whiskey and a box of cigars,” Jamison snapped the reply along with a laugh.
“Only if I get to help you consume them.”
“I look forward to it. Take care of yourself and call me if you need to.” He could hear his friend’s concern.
“I give you my word.”
Jamison sighed, “Good. Very good. We’ll talk soon.”
“Until then.” He disconnected and dropped the phone onto his chest. He’d soak up the warmth a bit more and then head back to Hollister. It would be good to see Gen again. Other than their infrequent calls and texts, they hadn’t talked much since their grandfather’s funeral.
The distinct rumble of a motorcycle pulled him into a sitting position. A Harley made its way down the trail. The rider, an older gentleman by the looks of the gray handlebar mustache and beard, came to a stop by his bike. The man glanced around until he saw Jeremiah. A wide smile exposed a mouth full of silver teeth, almost like the character out of one of the Bond movies. Jeremiah couldn’t see the man’s cut, but he was flying some motorcycle club colors for sure.
“Howdy,” the man said as soon as he turned off his bike.
“Great day for a ride, isn’t it?” Jeremiah asked as he slid down the face of the boulder and landed on his feet in front of the man.
“Damn straight. Any day on my bike is a good day. Had to get away from the shop for a bit.”
Remi nodded. “I know that feeling.”
“You own a cut?”
He shook his head. “Independent and determined to stay that way.” He glanced at the guy’s cut. The word ‘Prez’ was embroidered across his left chest and the crest for the Hill’s Hell Hounds was below it. He’d worked with gang members before. Treading in club territory if they thought you were the enemy was a surefire way to get dead.
“Little early for the rally.” The guy pulled off his aviators. Those eyes were dark and watched him like a hawk, although he spent a few seconds admiring Jeremiah’s bike.
“Rally?” Jeremiah frowned for a minute. “Oh, Sturgis? I doubt I’ll still be in the area, but if I am, I may drop by.”
The man stared at him and lifted an eyebrow. “You look like club material, but you don’t talk much like it.”
Jeremiah tossed back his head and laughed. “Do you allow psychiatrists in your club?”
The guy stared at him for a moment before a smile pulled at his lips. “Have a medic, but no doctor. Do you know how to patch up people?”
“Dude, you wouldn’t want a shrink to work on your body. I’ve forgotten all that shit they crammed down my throat in med school.” He made his way to his bike and picked up his helmet and looked at the other rider. “Name’s Jeremiah.”
“Tank.” The other rider nodded. The name suited him; he was built like one. The biker nodded to Jeremiah’s ride. “You going north or south?”
“North, heading back to see family. You?”
“I have a custom bike shop in Rapid. Just came out here to feel the quiet.” Tank nodded at Jeremiah’s ride. “That is quality work. That paint job must have cost a fortune. Get it done around here?”
“Nah, man, a small shop outside Santa Maria, California. Yours is outrageous.” The metallic flames faded into a skull when you moved from one side to the other.
“My kid did that. He’s the best around here.” Tank reached in his pocket and handed Jeremiah a card. “We don’t mind independents. Ever get the itch to ride with the group or you need something for that bike, here’s the address.”
“I’ll pass on the ride, but I’ll take you up on the maintenance. Hard to find people who would take care of this baby like I would.” Jeremiah put on his helmet and stepped over his bike after securing the business card along with his cell phone.
Tank reached out a fist and bumped Jeremiah’s. “Stop by, I’ll show you some of my kid’s work.”
“I’d like that.” He cranked his bike and gave Tank a salute before he pulled a U-turn and retraced his route back to Hollister.
Chapter 6
Jeremiah rode his bike into the small town and was shocked when several people on the street lifted a hand in greeting. He couldn’t remember the last time someone he didn’t know had acknowledged him. Small towns had charm that way.
Instead of turning right and pulling behind the clinic, he veered left and drove to the back of the cafe.