Born to Ride_A Clubhouse Collection

chapter 14 ~ Ryder

“Hey, man,” I croaked. Hammer gripped my arm and his heavy body bounced against mine as he hugged me in a fierce bear like grip.

“Hey, brother,” he growled, a grin splitting his face. I’d known Joe, aka Hammer, since I first came to the Scorpio Stinger MC. In my book, he was as close to a real brother as a man could get.

I’d come to meet my boys from the club to catch up and make a few arrangements. We met at a park which was only two minutes from the house we were renting. It was just safer here and quicker for me to get back to Mia and the kids.

Ratbag patted me on the back and repeated the greeting. F*ck, I’d missed these guys. They were practically my shadow at the club, and not seeing them for a couple of weeks was something I wasn’t used to.

“So what’ve you f*ckers been up to? Causing shit?”

They shook with laughter. “It’s no fun when you’re not part of it, man.” Hammer was still grinning—he hadn’t replaced the tooth he lost in the showdown. Guess he was keeping a low profile, like the rest of us.

I rose an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you cunts missed me? F*ck, you’ll make me cry.”

Ratbag looked at me as if I was crazy. “What makes you think that, bro?” He drawled in his heavy Australian accent.

Yeah, I’d never admit I missed the f*ckers. Or the way Ratbag called the brothers “bro”, as they did in the Land Down Under. He never failed to amuse me with his stories about his homeland and their strange way of speaking.

Since I’d found Ratbag on the streets one night five years ago, pissed out of his f*cking skull, he’d pretty much latched on to me as his mentor. Yeah, like I could ever be someone’s hero.

He’d been robbed of his passport and all his cash by one of our rival gang members and had nowhere to go. Since he was in the country illegally at the time, there wasn’t much he could do, other than live on the streets. Yet somehow, because of his crazy accent, somebody always gave him money or food.

The food he’d guzzle down, because usually he’d have skipped a few meals by then. Ratbag was always hungry—he could eat and drink any man under the table. He had an appetite that never quit, yet he was as skinny as he was tall. Even though I was six foot two, I still had to look up to him. And he was fast—he could outrun anyone. Hammer joked that he’d seen Ratbag dodge a bullet once, Matrix style.

The cash he’d collected over the days, he strapped to his body and when he had enough saved up, he’d go on a binge. He’d buy a ‘slab of piss’, as they called a carton of beer in Australia, and treat everybody to a beer or two. For a night, he’d be OK, accepted into the fold of the homeless, and have a few friends.

It was his generosity that impressed me. Even though he had virtually nothing but the clothes on his back, he’d share whatever he had the good fortune of coming his way. I wasn’t an easy man to impress, and I’d never actually tell the f*cker that, ‘cause I couldn’t afford him getting a big head about it. But I trusted him with my life. He had a good heart underneath all that f*cked up boozing shit. It was a good day when I found Bruce Williams, our Ratbag, the boy from Australia.

“Hey, I need you guys to come to the house to look after Mia and the kids. I need to go to the hospital to see Cobra. Brother isn’t doing too well and I need to discuss business with him. You cool for nine pm?”

“Yep. We’ll be there.”

“You can’t come into the house. Young Jamie is having nightmares about everything that’s happened. I’ll tell Mia you’re outside while I am gone, so she’ll feel safe. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone for, we have a lot of shit to talk about.”

“Take your time, we won’t be in a rush to leave.” Ratbag patted my back. He knew it was going to be hard for me to see Cobra in a hospital bed, shot to f*cking pieces, tied to machines to keep him alive.

“You can’t come with the bikes. Wrong for the neighborhood. Leave your bikes at the shopping center and catch a cab to the house. And make sure nobody is following you.”

“Sure, boss.”

“Don’t call me that. Cobra is still f*cking breathing. As long as he’s alive, he’s the boss. Got it?”

Ratbag nodded.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah. Razor said there was a f*cking cop looking for you. Asked for you by name. Special anti-terrorist team.” I heard the concern in Ratbag’s voice.

“They got wind of the arms deal that went bad. They’re sniffing around the compound. Razor said to stay away from there. Meet at shopping centers or parks whenever necessary.”

F*ck. I knew that shit would come back to haunt me. Cobra and I needed a plan. I couldn’t stay away from the f*cking compound forever. I’d go crazy. Suburbia was too quiet for me, the silence at night freaked the f*ck out of me. Ever since I was a kid, I couldn’t sleep unless there was noise around me.

“Who’s the cop? Do we know him?” I grunted. I didn’t need more shit in my life. Dealing with our rival MC club, The LA Demon Skulls, was enough.

Ratbag pulled a face. “Mean looking f*cker with a vendetta against bikers. Big as a house. If he wasn’t on the copper’s team, he’d be a good brother. He has so much anger, it f*cking pours out of him.”

Just what I needed—an angry cop with revenge issues. F*ck. “Do you have a name?”

Hammer worried his lip for a moment. “Ahh, it has something to do with the weather. Winter, Summer—”

“Get me all the info on him. Should I be kicking your f*cking ass that you haven’t done that already?” I growled.

I shook my head. Was I the only one who could think logically? With both Cobra and me away and just Razor to run the show, I was starting to worry about what was going on at the club. I’d better sort this shit out, fast.

“Hammer,” I barked, “don’t let me down man, I want everything on the motherf*cker. Are we clear?”

Hammer was our IT guy. He could hack into any computer and get whatever info we needed. He could also forge a document so that nobody could tell the difference. And even though he’d made Ratbag a new Australian and US passport, Ratbag wasn’t leaving his newly adopted country any time soon.

I’d known Hammer since I was a kid. He’d helped me find Max with his genius hacking skills after we were split up. As soon as I got out of that hellhole of a detention center, I came to the compound with the Malone boys and called it home ever since. Yet I needed to know what’d happened to my little brother. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if he’d survived Tiny’s brutal attack.

Hammer found Maxwell. He was still living with the band, waiting for Marianne to come back. I’d convinced Max that she was never returning, and he came to the Scorpio Stinger MC compound with me for a few years. But Maxwell didn’t fit in. He was too smart. He wanted to read and study, not play pool and darts and drink till he fell down. He refused to get involved in dirty business, and kept telling me I was too smart to live like this for the rest of my life. What he didn’t understand, was that these boys were now my brothers. I owed them my life and my allegiance.

In all that time, the only person Max had connected with, was Hammer, because he was really smart and they could talk shit for hours. Hammer had taught Max how to ride a motorcycle and Max tried his best to be a badass, for my sake. But my brother had grand ambitions—he wanted to change the f*cking world. Do something good and worthwhile. Good luck to him.