Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,15
somebody’s for certain, or maybe, hopefully, general club property. I won’t know until I see the patch on the back of her cut.
Let’s face it, the whole set up is strange, and I really don’t know what to make of it.
I turn back to the prospect. “What’s your name?”
For a second, I don’t think he’s going to answer, then with a shrug, he offers, “Gears.”
“You’ve already got a road name?” Ours aren’t usually given until a man’s been brought to the table. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, I’m also an exception. I joined the Satan’s Devils with mine, having been nicknamed Roadrunner as I was so fucking fast on my bike. Not fast enough, I grimace slightly, remembering. If I’d increased my lead by just half a second, I’d have been out of that asshole’s way.
Gears looks like he’s going to keep his mouth shut, but again, he surprises me. “Got my road name once I passed my initial probation.”
Deciding I might lure him into a false sense of security if I appear friendly, I place a smile on my face as I make the one-word a query, “Gears?”
“When I was learning to ride, I’d forget to change them. The brothers kept shouting at me, ‘gears’ to remind me.”
My brow creases. The implication is, he learned to ride here. Men wanting to join an MC usually already come equipped with the ability to ride a Harley, and with said bike as I know only too well.
“You the only prospect?” If I’m held against my will, it will be useful to know what I’m up against for any escape attempt to have a chance of succeeding. I saw eleven men in that meeting room, so how much other manpower have they got? I’m obviously discounting the woman.
“No.” But he doesn’t elaborate. Not even when I press him, leaving me in ignorance of just how many prospects they’ve got.
“So, Gears. How long have you been prospecting?”
Trying to get him to open up, I offer some information of my own. “I got my patch two years ago now.” I force a chuckle, though I’m not really in the mood. “Prospecting is hard. I remember it well. Man it was tough being run ragged all the time, and not able to touch the club girls. That the same here?”
But he’s clammed up. Gone stoic.
Having mentioned club girls reminds me of what I’ve left behind. Pussy, and Paige and Diva of course. Allie, now with Truck, is rightly not available anymore. But I’d double-teamed with Marvel a time or two before with one of the others. I wonder again whether the woman in the meeting doubles as a sweet butt. I might not have had much chance to examine her, but she had a pretty enough face, short dark hair and dark brown eyes. As my mind conjures up a vision of her, I realise it’s best to put her out of my mind. In the event she is club property, I’m unlikely to get a chance to put her through her paces as I’ll either be dead, or, and my preferred, but probably optimistic option, I’ll be on my way back home and handing this conundrum over to Drummer.
But my thoughts keep circling back to her. Even her voice had been sexy, her accent reminiscent of Sophie, the VP’s old lady back in Tucson. The thought sends a pang of homesickness through me. When I left on Drummer’s errand, it had seemed simple. Now I admit, there’s a chance I won’t make it back.
I’d walked into a chapter of the Satan’s Devils expecting to receive a warm welcome. Instead, the men who should be my brothers as we wear the same patch are probably discussing how to dispose of me right now.
One thing I know is that you do not lie to the president of the mother chapter, nor hide the truth from him. It seems that they’ve been stringing Drummer along for quite a while, but for the life of me I can’t understand why. Nor why Snatcher is not the prez. He looks the part, and while Drummer had concerns, I’m sure there were none about the man himself. He even told me he thought Snatcher was straight as an arrow.
Pip, now, he would look out of place sitting with Drummer, Lost, Demon and Red. Could it be as simple as Snatcher’s face is a better fit, so he sends his VP instead? Surely not, and if so, why all the secrecy,