One thing becomes very fucking clear. I’m not living life the way I should be. It’s been years of too much fucking booze. Too many damn risks. Far too much free pussy on display which I indulged in far more than I would like my mama to know about.
She’s probably seen more than she ever wanted to since Jackal, our former Prez and my dad, and mom, Vera, are regular fixtures around the clubhouse. They have a house on club property and Mom is still there to help Opal with anything the club needs.
It was the right decision to hire Opal, a club brat and the sister of my VP, Snake, to take care of everything clubhouse related. She keeps things going and she has no personal interest beyond us being family. She’s not an Old Lady.
Fuck.
I scream the curse in my head when it looks like I’m about to lay my bike down. The tinkling sound of my gremlin bells, the ones Jingle gave me because he’s a man with his own penance, hits me and I almost scoff. Fat lot of good they did me today.
All it took was an asshole with a car which is clearly too much for them. And timing.
It’s always the timing that gets you.
Just when I’m about to give up, I right myself and wobble a little as I rebalance. Honestly, I have no idea how I kept my bike upright.
Fuck, it was far too fucking close.
It’s not the first time I’ve had a close call, but it’s been a while and something about my life as it played through my head like a movie reel doesn’t sit right with me.
Looking ahead of me, the Corvette is long fucking gone, like they almost didn’t take me the fuck out. It would have fucking hurt hitting the pavement.
I’m not sure I’d be able to handle the road rash I’d be dealing with.
Talk about a fucking bitch. It’s painful as hell and the way your flesh is tender is not a feeling I’d like to repeat. The last time wasn’t even that bad. This time? I would have been begging to be put into a fucking coma while my body healed. I’m not even a little bit ashamed to admit that shit either.
“Are you good, Prez?” Sidewinder’s voice comes through the coms in my helmet.
I swallow hard and try to ignore the way my hands are shaking. Getting lost in what almost happened isn’t going to do a damn bit of good right now.
“Yeah,” I croak, my voice shaky before I clear my throat and get my shit together. I sound surer when I add, “I’m good.”
The sun shining down on me feels even hotter, or maybe it’s the last of the adrenaline filtering through my blood stream. I’m fucking sweating, and if I weren’t so damn close to the clubhouse, I’d pull over right now and take a moment.
As it is, all I want to do is get home.
It would be a shit idea for me to leave the transport exposed too. Which is why I grit my teeth and focus on the road.
But I can’t help keeping one eye on my mirror. While I don’t think that Corvette will show up again, I’m nowhere near ready to trust anyone on the road. Not today. Not after such a close call.
I can still feel the panic. It’s squeezing my chest, a constant reminder of how close I came.
While there were a lot of good moments with my brothers and my family, there was something missing. Something integral. The only thing I can do is push away anything beyond the road in front of me.
It’s not long before we’re pulling up to the large fence and gate which protects my club, my family, from anyone who might be a threat. We’ve had plenty over the years, including local law enforcement. Sheriff Lyons would love to find something that would stick when it comes to the club. He’s always breathing down our necks.
Which is why security is a top priority when it comes to the club.
Enemies might be close, and the ones you know about you can keep an eye on, but then there are those who hate you without you even knowing it. They plot in the shadows, and you don’t necessarily see them coming until it’s too late.
Which is why I’m always paying attention.
Some people might call it paranoia. I call it being protective of what’s mine. The entire club and everyone on our land is my responsibility and I take it very fucking seriously.
My heart is still pounding when I pull up in front of the clubhouse and park in my spot. I nod toward the rest of the guys who were riding with me, some of them pulling into spots while the rest lead the transport around to the other side of the building.
The old warehouse and manufacturing plant in front of me was converted into the clubhouse years ago. There’s plenty of room for everyone to have a place to live. And party.
We don’t get the chance to use the old loading docks very often, but they’ll come in handy today. Since we haven’t renovated the entire building, including storage spaces, there’s room for the club to expand one day.