Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,78

to his feet.

I grin. “The old clubhouse.”

Once again that deer in the headlights look appears on Road’s face, but he asks no verbal questions, just hoists his cut more comfortably on his shoulders and joins the rest of us as we leave the premises.

It’s just a mile ride to the clubhouse that Road will find more to his liking, or at least, somewhat more familiar. Leaving the new one under the eye of Gears in the comms room and our civilian caretaker for the night, we leave and travel back to the old warehouse on the outskirts of town.

It’s a rundown building hunched behind the large sign that denotes it as the Satan’s Devils Utah clubhouse, far different from the slip of card used to identify our new one, and which can be switched out to denote any business we want to be taken for at any time.

When we draw up and park in a line out front, Road is again wearing that expression that I see most on his face. He cocks an eyebrow as if to ask, really? But he backs his bike into its parking spot, switches off the engine and carefully dismounts.

“Your leg okay after yesterday?”

“I’ve strapped it up,” he replies, dismissively.

“This him?” Grinch stubs out a cigarette, grinding it into the ground with his boot. He eyes Road carefully, his expression unreadable. But I reckon they’ll get on like a house on fire, Road’s more old school than the rest of us.

I do the introductions. “Road, meet Grinch. Grinch, Road, Roadrunner.”

Road eyes the worn leather which rests on the older man’s shoulders. “Patched member?” He looks puzzled again and taps at his chin. “Pip mentioned your name, I assumed you were no longer with the MC. You weren’t in church.”

Grinch grins. “Nah, can’t be bothered with that shit, not unless it directly concerns us. We’ll attend if we’re needed.”

“Grinch, Goofy and Mystic keep up the pretence of the club,” I tell Road. “They’re fuckin’ good mechanics, but don’t get involved in our main business. They live here to maintain a presence. This is what the citizens see, and we deliver exactly what they expect of an MC.”

A look of enlightenment crosses Road’s face as if I’ve answered one of his questions.

“And what’s your trade?” Grinch queries.

“He rides bikes. Fast,” I answer for Road.

“Enduro racing,” Road explains.

Grinch’s eyes light up. “That Roadrunner?” When Road gives a self-deprecating shrug, Grinch holds out his hand and shake’s Road’s vigorously. “Fuckin’ impressive riding man. Shame you were taken out before lifting that trophy.” He raises his chin by means of salute. “Pleased as fuck to meet you. Hey, I might just fuckin’ have something right up your alley.” He nods my way. “Got a sweet deal the other day. Man wanted to swap it out for a tricked-up Harley.”

“Ah, yes,” I say, remembering. “The Kawasaki ZX14R.” The previous owner had scared himself on it and wanted something that didn’t have so much power.

“Yeah?” Road’s eyes light up.

“Yours if you need speed,” Grinch offers. “Take it for a spin sometime if you want.”

“Oh, I want,” Road tells him, his eyes sparkling. “One of the fastest fuckin’ bikes on the road. Riding position would suit a man of my size.”

I get the impression if I leave them together they’d be out here for hours. “Come on.” I nod toward the doorway. “I want a beer.”

Those seem to be magic words as Road raises his chin to Grinch, then wastes no time following me inside. Again he comes to a dead halt, pausing to take it all in.

As an MC clubhouse this place screams it’s the real deal. Christ knows when it last had a makeover. The interior is dark and dingy, not helped at all by the nicotine-stained ceiling and walls. Rock music is playing at a tolerable background level. Those who arrived before us, or who had not tarried outside, are already standing with beers in their hands, or queuing at the bar, shouting at Igor to get a fucking move on.

I frown as a group of giggling girls, regulars in from the city, immediately look over to see who’s entered, and their eyes, ignoring me, focus on Road, recognising him as fresh meat. One pushes past her companions and if I’m not mistaken, is already making a beeline directly toward him.

Forcing myself not to watch her progress, I work hard to suppress my irrational jealous instinct. Road will probably end up fucking one of them tonight, and he’s a