Rider: Fallen Reapers MC by Savannah Rylan

Author:Savannah Rylan [Rylan, Savannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pink Empire Publishing
Published: 2019-09-29T18:30:00+00:00

9

Rider

I walked into Milo's and started scanning for Carver. I didn't see him at first, so I got myself a table and ordered a beer. My mind was racing with all the things they could ask of me. Questions Doc might have and stories I might have to tell him. He might quiz me on my knowledge of combat or ask for war stories to prove I would be an asset to their club.

I was dreading that part of the conversation if it came to fruition.

"Rider!" Carver said as he slapped my back. "Didn't think you'd beat us here."

"Everyone beats us here when you're involved, Carver," Doc said.

I grinned as I turned towards the man and shook his head.

"Rider. Nice to see you again," Doc said.

"You too, sir."

"Don't do that 'sir' shit. You're not in the military anymore. Doc's just fine," he said.

"Told you he'd try to be polite about this shit," Carver said.

"Blame it on my military training," I said with a grin.

"I see you got yourself a beer already. Hope you came hungry. I'm starving," Doc said.

I eyed Carver, and he grinned at me before Doc started firing off some questions.

"Carver here tells me you're good at some things."

"Sure am. Again, blame it on the military," I said.

"Can you fight?" Doc asked.

"Yep."

"You know your guns?"

"Sure do."

"Carver here tells me you've got this fun little knack for reading people."

I eyed Carver carefully as the conversation took a turn.

"Been awhile since I've put it to use, but yes," I said.

"Take your shot with me," Doc said.

"With you."

"Yep. Tell me what you can gather just from looking at me," he said.

It had been a few years since I'd had to employ this tactic and I knew I'd be rusty. My eyes scanned Doc's body… or at least what I could of him. I figured my fighting skills and my ability to shoot with deadly accuracy would be more useful than something like this. But if that was what Doc wanted to see, then it was better than recounting shitty war stories.

I took a few seconds to look him up and down before I cleared my throat.

"You've had a rough morning," I said.

"With Carver, it's always rough," Doc said.

"Not what I meant. You didn't get much sleep last night, and you ran into something this morning. The scuff on your jeans as well as your slight limp tells me that. You live in your own home and do your own yard work, judging by the mud and the grass seeds caked onto her boots. It's probably therapeutic for you, though you don't want to admit that because who the fuck admits they like gardening?"

A chuckle rose from Carver as Doc's eyes held my stare.

"You don't actually like the beer at this place, but you tolerate it because they give it to you for free. I can tell by the way you drink it. You bite back a grimace, and it takes you longer to swallow it sometimes. That usually indicates a nice person.

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