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Remembering my order, the old biker pried the cap off a Modelo Negra and slid it to me. I chugged the ice-cold beer, knowing I needed the hydration more than anything, but the dark brew was too rich to quench my thirst.
Popping his knuckles, Static joined us at the bar, taking the stool beside me. He asked Merc for a beer. The old man produced a Budweiser. I observed our drinks, noting the irony. You would think it would be the other way around. Merc called Static, ese, after all. I looked like I rode out of a Budweiser commercial on a Clydesdale. The aging biker spoke of the whore house our Charleston chapter of the Royal Bastards MC had just opened with quite the enthusiasm.
“If you want to see a pussy, Merc, just look in the mirror,” I said, keeping up with their conversation.
Merc shot back, “Just have to take a look at you, Levi.”
Static seemed more than surprised Murder, the President in West Virginia had opened a brothel. He was downright shocked. The old biker was right. His boy, Static, didn’t have a clue. I was out bad and even knew about the Bunny Ranch.
“Murder thinks he’s Hugh Hefner,” I joked, finishing my Modelo in one long chug.
With Static focused on the news, wanting to know about a member of the Royal Harlots MC working there, I felt certain the biker hadn’t been searching for me after all.
Like me, he was after a woman. And not only a woman, a lady biker.
“Rosie?” he asked, uttering her name like the rumor that she was whoring herself about killed him.
“Sounds about right,” I said, knowing her myself. I decided to take my leave before he found out about my time with that whore. Rosie could suck the chrome off a tailpipe.
As I mounted my Harley, I knew I had a dangerous mission ahead of me. Biker bitch or not, I could best Maren, no problem. I would take her back to Royal Road and get my life back, maybe. The danger lied deeper. The woman had not only awakened the monster within causing me to want her like no other. She touched my deep, dark heart. She captured it, only to drive a stake in it. Seeing her again would be hard.
When I found her, it would be real hard not to kill her.
Chapter 3
Leviathan
That night I mounted my Harley-Davidson CVO Road Glide Ultra, admiring the heirloom red fade paint glistening in the moonlight. Having sank my savings into her a couple of years prior, I admired the limited edition anytime I could. Buying such a luxurious motorcycle, I was more than pleased with the extra power and weight of the machine, but I’d been showing off my status in my club. Serving Kingpin and Royal Road had lined my pockets and then some.
Though, the motorcycle that packed a serious punch when it came to power and performance was perfect for a man my size. One who had taken to living not at his clubhouse but on the road. Moreover, it kept another fifty grand out of my estranged wife’s hands.
Pushing my true love, my Harley, to her limits, I rode into Galveston, Texas, on a mission to find Maren, or as she was now known, Treasure. The woman who had once been my lover who betrayed me. She was now the President of the Asphalt Gods MC, a rival club to my own, the Royal Bastards MC in Nashville, Tennessee. What used to be my club anyhow and could be again if I brought the traitor in.
As I rumbled through the sandy streets of Galveston, sticky humidity clung to me like a second skin. That didn’t bother me. My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t help but feel ominous. Finding Maren would be an effortless task, as it was now. I knew where she would be. But I had to deal with the consequences of her actions. That was not something I was prepared to do exactly.
My club expected me to take her back to Tennessee to her death. Kicking and screaming if I had to. Not only for my sake, and for the sake of my brothers’ pride, but for the welfare of my children. Don’t be mistaken, most of me wanted her dead. But a small part of me needed answers. That part of me couldn’t believe Maren could be so cruel. That part of me had wished her disloyalty hadn’t been true.
The small part was a tear in my resolve that only grew. I fought the urge to seek answers off like a hungry dog. There was no use hearing anything Maren had to say.
Once a liar, always a liar.
Slipping into the Salty Pelican, I immediately noticed the rowdy bikers occupying the back corner of the bar. The Asphalt Gods were here. Of course they were. This was just where Merc’s file said they would be on a Thursday night. God awful beach bar had just as many tourists as bikers. Southern Rock sounded throughout, but there wasn’t any smoke hanging in the air. A no smoking sign flashed over the bar. The smell of saltwater mingled with stale beer and seafood.
A restaurant and bar, this place wasn’t their MC clubhouse. Merc’s intel said Treasure’s chapter didn’t have one yet. Instead, they toured the local bars and hangouts, making their presence known. It was smart. Had I known I was looking for the Asphalt Gods MC, I would’ve found her already. When I didn’t find Maren in Arkansas with her Gods there, I had developed a false hope that she hadn’t gone back to them.
I lost all hope now.
Casually, my eyes scanned the group, looking for her. Not a blonde amongst them, I counted them. There being only five of them, three men and two women, I took a seat at the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, feeling more than safe. As I sipped, I kept a watchful eye on the door. Watched for Treasure, as she called herself now. Like I had called her my Treasure. Her road name was a slap in the goddamn face.
When she walked in the next moment, it was like someone shot me. I couldn’t believe it. I would recognize her anywhere dressed as a biker bitch or not. Maren carried herself with effortless grace. Her fluid movements drew the eye whether she took the stage or not.
Having been here sitting in this very bar, looking so many times before, I couldn’t believe my luck. Maren had mentioned this place to me, and said she found her daughter’s adopted mother working here before. Therefore, I had a hunch she would be here, and I was fucking right. My timing had simply been all wrong. Before meeting up with Merc, I had convinced myself Maren would never be somewhere she had told me about.
That would be stupid of her. The girl wasn’t dumb.
Did my Treasure want me to find her?
With her blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun, to show it off, she wore a leather vest with the Asphalt Gods MC emblem on the back. She looked as beautiful as ever, but the sight of her wearing their colors made me see red. The evil club had killed my sweet, innocent sister. I couldn’t close my eyes at night without seeing Leia’s mangled, lifeless body strung up on a pole.
