pair of jeans and a T-shirt, a holey pair of socks and his sneakers he’d gotten from the lost and found. He was pretty sure they weren’t really lost but placed there for him since his counselor was the one who’d given them to him. The whole beggars can’t be choosers thing was his motto back then. Now, he gave to the weak and donated to the less fortunate. He wasn’t a boy scout, far from it. Nobody would look at him and call him a knight or even a modern-day Robin Hood. What he had was morals, and a set of rules. They might be fucked up on all kinds of levels, but they were his.
He hit the highway, taking to the open road. With his leathers on to protect his body, and his skull cap in place on his head, which he’d been told was hard as hell. He headed East, riding until he couldn’t ride any longer. The next day he did the same, the monotony a welcome routine. It gave him time to work through what his plan would be. A sign for a rest stop loomed, reminding him he needed to call Koyn, the Royal Bastards president of the Tulsa Chapter. On the big brown sign, he saw the words Wi-Fi and other standard amenities. He pulled his Harley in on the truckers’ side. Families tended to get all skittish when he roared in next to their minivans. Like he was going to shank their asses and steal their virgin daughters. He’d had a couple virgins in his life and didn’t see any reason to do so again at his age.
Several nods from a few truckers came in his direction as he made his way into the building with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He returned their greetings with a lift of his chin, no need to get all friendly and shit, not when he had a sinking feeling he’d be killing some piece of shits in the one-horse town he’d barely survived growing up in.
He took care of business, washed his hands while taking stock of himself in the warped looking mirror the men’s room provided. The good folks of Lionsville would have a hard time recognizing the man in the mirror to the scrawny kid who had left there. Keys flipped himself off, then exited out the opposite side.
The rest area had a welcome area with pamphlets for people to take, but he skirted past them, taking the doors that led out the other side. On a small bench near his motorcycle, he got his phone out, opened the app with his security cameras that surrounded his home in California. He’d told Cosmo and the woman he’d brought home with him they could stay there while he was gone. He trusted all his brothers in his MC, but Moana and Maui, they were his babies. Fur babies for sure, but he still felt compelled to check on them to make sure they liked Cosmo and the woman.
A grin split his cheeks at the image of King on the floor of his garage with Moana’s head in his lap, her pups gathered at her belly eating while the big fucker that was Maui paced back and forth. Back and forth. Snarl, turn and then lick one of the pups before he’d start all over again with the pacing. His garage was pristine with the floor being a slick grey that had only ever had his bike on it and his babies. He had another set of garages on the other side of the place that he kept his cage rig in for when he needed one, but mostly he rode his Harley.
King’s hand rose, waiting and then his bad-ass dog strutted over, nudged King’s hand, allowing him to pet him. Yeah, he’d be eating out of King’s palm before Keys returned. He shut the app down, sent off a text to King and Duke. ‘Checking in, motherfuckers. All is good on my end. Take care of my babies and don’t feed them too many snacks. They need to be let out to run and exercise FYI. And stop letting Maui run your ass like he’s your damn alpha, pussy.’
He got an immediate response from Duke of the middle finger. King’s came a minute later, the double flip off, making him snort. However, it was the pic of him and Maui walking the property that made his chest ache. His traitorous dog was looking