Hallow's Eve (Royal Bastards MC: Nashville, TN Book 1) by Morgan Jane Mitchell

Author:Morgan Jane Mitchell [Mitchell, Morgan Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-14T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Hallow

When Buzzard chose Eve as a suspect, I knew I had to take her to Kingpin myself to clear her name. After all, the stinky bastard whispered to me in the breakroom that he thought she was Fighting Cocks daughter.

“Who’s that?” I asked him.

“Arkansas God.” That was all he had to say.

There wasn’t anyone in the club that didn’t know about our feud with the Asphalt Gods’ MC or that the Tennessee Gods strung our Enforcer’s sister up a telephone pole. They fucking crucified her, nailed her to the damned thing. Fucking gruesome shit. Leviathan wasn’t our Enforcer back then, and I’d just joined the Charleston Chapter of the Royal Bastards MC as probate and missed all the action. So, I only heard tale of how Kingpin ran them out of the Volunteer state. Many of those bikers he ran out ended up in their Arkansas chapter. And Fighting Cock, I’d never heard of him but just being one of the Asphalt Gods put his daughter in danger.

The whole time Riff questioned Eve, I couldn’t worry about her anger at finding out I was a biker. My mind raced, searching for a solution to our real problem. If Leviathan found out about her, he would no doubt kill her. Riff our Road Captain was one of the meanest sons of bitches I’d ever met who could also keep his cool. I thought being in Music City, with his long hair, the name Riff would have something to do with guitars, but I’d been wrong. Riff, short for Riffratt was born bad, he claimed. Yes, it’s Riffratt not riff-raff, because he was a biker brat, or rather a biker rat, like they liked to call their boys. His late father had been Vice President of Smokey Rollers MC over in Sevierville back in the seventies. To Riff, being an outlaw was not just an occupation but a legacy. The man was serious about moving up the ladder. Kingpin kept him close because we all knew Riff wanted to rule.

My roommate Thorn was the biggest of the bunch. Kingpin, knowing my past, that I’m mistaken as my partner, the police officer who senselessly killed an innocent black man, thought sticking me with one of our few black members would be hilarious. Being ex-military though he didn’t like to talk about it, Thorn and I got along well. He’d killed more innocent black and brown people than a white boy like me while he was overseas, he liked to joke. We also got along when it came to tidiness. His bed was always made before I woke up. Not a tattoo on him other than his backpack, he got up early to run before he hit the gym. Like me, he didn’t touch the illegal drugs floating around the club and preferred to get drunk to party. We both took care of our demons by working out or beating someone to a pulp. Unlike me, he was all country, wearing a cowboy hat most of the time.

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