Page 92 of Devil’s Disciples

“You’ll vomit if I eat them?”

“I will.” He glared at the bag. “Can’t even stand to look at the damned things.”

“Okay. Well.” I looked around the store. A display of Chex Mix caught my eye. “What about that?”

“Fine with me. Doritos are my only no-no.”

“Superstition?” I asked.

“Actually, it is.”

I grabbed a bag of nacho cheese flavored goodness. “I’ll get the Chex Mix, then.”

He grabbed a Moon Pie and a Mountain Dew. On the way back to the car, I made a comment about the selection.

“That doesn’t seem to fit you.”

“Highway food is different than any other food. When I was a kid, my aunt and I would take a vacation every summer. She thought they’d settle me down, but they never did. I’d always get a Moon Pie and a Mountain Dew.”

I paused. “What about your uncle? Did he go?”

“She never married,” he said.

“Oh.”

It was a small piece of his life’s puzzle that I was able to snap into place. Piece by piece, I was sure that one day I’d get all the answers I needed.

“We were talking about loyalty and trust earlier,” he said. “Keep in mind, with bikers, there’s nothing more important than that. Respect is the only thing that comes to mind.”

“I know I’m a laugh a minute, but I’ll be my best around them. And, when we’re not around them.” I devoured a handful of snacks and then set the bag aside. “When I decided to do this, I realized that I’d have to be as devoted to this club as you are. So, I decided that’s where I stand. It’s the only way I could make it work in my head. I Googled a bunch of stuff before I came over with those signs. I’m pretty savvy about outlaw clubs.”

He looked at me and grinned. “Oh, really?”

“Uh huh. Respect. Give it and get it. Don’t talk about club business. Don’t ask questions. Don’t ever be seen around a cop. I’m pretty legit.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Sounds like it.”

“All joking aside. I’m not going to embarrass you.”

He glanced at me. “I never thought you would.”

I went back to eating my snacks, wondering when the day would come where I could get to know his brothers. It fascinated me that they’d been friends for a lifetime. Forty-five minutes later, we pulled into a place marked Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca. I read the sign and then looked at him side-eyed. “We’re at a race track?”

“We are.”

I wasn’t dressed for the occasion, and neither was he. I wasn’t thrilled in the least. “We’re going to watch a car race?”

“No. We’re going to race a car.”

As much as I didn’t want to be excited, I was. “We’re going to race?”

“We are.”

My eyes went wide. “Holy crap. Really?”

“Really.”

An hour later, even though he said I didn’t have to be, I was fitted with an awesome leather suit, a helmet, and some cool boots. I didn’t care that my hair and makeup were a mess, I was excited to see what the car with an engine in the trunk was all about.