REAPER'S KISS(4)

Sid called it a meeting and everyone split up to do their own thing.

As I shuffled out the door toward the bar to grab a bite I noticed Sid was right on my ass. That was never a good sign. One on ones with the Prez meant something was going down.

Fuck, I just wanted something to eat.

I sat down and ordered a beer and a burger. That was how I did breakfast after a long night of f*cking. Plus, it was already the afternoon.

“I need to talk to you,” Sid said as he sat down and waved two fingers, signaling for a shot.

“I can see that,” I said. “I don’t like our talks, Prez. Not when we’re alone.”

“I need you to check a place. On your own.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“We never roll alone,” I said.

“This time you do. I can’t have a bunch of you rolling up on a store.”

“A store?”

“The last f*cking corner shop in Bishop.”

“That shit hole down on Barker?” I asked.

“That’s the one. Chief wouldn’t get into details but he casually hinted about it. A lot of foot traffic. Back door foot traffic. Doesn’t make sense that a place like that stays open either.”

“So you want to… what? Go in and buy a soda and some potato chips?”

“Whatever you need to do to get a feel for it. Check for cameras. Tell me who’s working there. Just get the general vibe and see how you’re treated.”

“So if someone comes out of the back with a shotgun and blows my f*cking head off…”

“Then we’ll know not to send anyone else there.”

“Thanks, Prez,” I said.

Sid laughed and slapped my back.

My beer and his shot came. He held his glass out and I held mine out.

“You’ll do this?” he asked.

“Of course I will,” I said. “Anything for the MC.”

“Good man. Enjoy your food.”

I ate my burger, drank my beer, and then left the clubhouse. I walked to my motorcycle and climbed on. When I started up the steel beast, I looked around. I always took stock of what I had and what I knew.

I learned a long time ago that you never knew when shit was going to hit the fan.

Or when shit was going to crush your heart.





chapter four


(jace)



THEN



I was just a rider with a black leather cut. I was cruising along the riverbed, taking the turns too fast, testing the limits of my motorcycle. My hair was long and kicked out the back of my helmet. I used to not wear a helmet but Sid told me if I ever wanted to get patched in I’d need all the brains I could muster.

We had come off a great score and I was given the thumbs up to be the getaway driver. It was a huge step forward into becoming a real patched in member. Shit, riding with those guys from the Bitter Aces MC made life worth living. It took all the wild bad shit and tossed it aside.

I had no choice but to bolt from home when I was sixteen. I hung around here and there, battling my way into finding something that made sense. That was working on cars and motorcycles. The pay was shit, most of my bosses were dicks, and I couldn’t hold a job for more than two weeks. Most of the time it was my fault. The last job I had I f*cked the boss’s wife. Too be fair, we were drunk, she was lonely, and she all but begged for it.

I took a wrench to the jaw for that one, but I did get my final paycheck.

But that was months ago.

I met Sid at a bar, gave him some advice on his motorcycle, and then he told me to meet him at the clubhouse for a chat. That chat ended up with me getting beat up by the patched in members of the MC and offered a chance to be a prospect. I told Sid I would only do it for a month or two. I was made to ride outlaw. With a full cut. With my brothers around me.

He agreed.

I cut around the next bend, throttling my ride. I felt my back tire bounce a little and I thought I was going to lose it.

“Fuck!” I screamed and hurried to save the motorcycle.

I pulled off a f*cking miracle and slammed on the brakes. I brought my motorcycle to a complete stop and threw my arms in the air, like a f*cking champion. I cheered to the birds and squirrels.

My life was starting to finally come together and make f*cking sense.

There was only one little problem.

The rumble of my motorcycle didn’t let me hear the SUV as it came up on me.

I felt a presence and managed to turn my head just in time to see the barreling vehicle smash into the back of my motorcycle.





chapter five


(ava)



NOW



I worked the register on another slow day. The only people that consistently came into the store were the regular older people who enjoyed the small town feel of a store. They’d stand at the counter and recount every memory they had of Bishop. All the places that were opened and closed. The way the town changed. Who owned what building. And then of course the fresh round of people who had died in the last week.

It was early afternoon when Dad came rushing from the back of the store. He rushed around the register and punched it open. He took all the twenties, tens, and fives. He held them in his hand as it shook furiously.

“Ava, don’t move,” he whispered to me. “You stay put. If I scream, you run.”