Chapter 10
Colt
It did not take long after the call to Austin for me to convince Zane we should visit the club and meet Tric’s father. All I had to do was explain to Zane what Tric’s last wishes were and even though he didn’t agree, he was in. Thankfully, the town wasn’t too far and we were able to leave right away. I was happy to be gone. I needed to get away from my hometown as soon as I could.
Despite my dad or Zane’s warnings, I did go look at where the old maple tree had stood. The space around it looked like devastation and heartbreak. Not even the old bench sat there anymore. The area was uncared for, ignored, almost as if anyone who tried to enjoy it or fix it up would be cursed as unlucky-in-love. Lyric’s pain was evident in the stump that was left behind. My mind conjured up images of her face twisted in pain, dark hair flying around her while she hacked into the bark that told our story. The one symbol that played a part in our best moments. So yes, I ran again, from the memories and the hurt I had caused. All I wanted to focus on was meeting with Tric’s father, so my friend could finally rest in peace.
“What do you think this club does for business?” Zane asks. He doesn’t turn to look at me, but his eyes are carefully watching every business building and house we pass on our way into town. I have never been to Braham before, with it being almost four hours from my hometown. The first time Tric mentioned it was when we realized we came from the same state.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrug. Zane finally turns to me and watches me carefully. If he’s aware of how messed up I feel inside after being home, he hasn’t made a single comment. We stay solely focused on what we’re about to do.
“I can’t see it being that bad if Tric wanted to come back when he was done with his enlistment. I mean he turned down a second signing bonus to return here.” Zane motions out the window.
The town is bigger than our own hometown, but still manages to have that smaller city feel. There are brick buildings and a few bars that line the main drag, along with a couple churches. At the end of the main road, it splits to the left and then right. My eyebrow rises slightly at the two very different billboards directing traffic.
“So, left is Braham Valley homes, where your family home awaits,” I say in a singsong voice.
“And to the right is Diamond in the Rough Casino and Royal Flesh Gentlemen’s Club.” Zane scoffs and shakes his head.
We turn right and follow the road a few miles, noticing that for the most part it's pretty secluded. There are no family homes in this area or shopping malls and coffee shops. I drive past the casino, which is, in fact, nestled right next to the strip club and another bar. Two more miles down the road, I finally see our turn.
“Raven’s Ridge,” I mutter to myself, and Zane looks at the map on his cell phone, nodding. The dirt road leads us to a chainfence and we’re stopped by two guys wearing leather cuts. The wordprospectis stitched over the Undead patch.
“How can we help you, boys? Lost?” the one man jokes, his hand tapping the hood of my truck with his knuckles. I glance over him and grit my teeth. He’s a young punk, at least ten years younger than me.
“We’re here to see your VP. We’re friends of Tric’s,” I respond, attempting to keep my voice calm, even as my hand is lowered in case I need to grab my concealed gun under my seat.
The smirk falls off the man’s face and it's instantly replaced with a grim expression. “You knew him?”
I nod my head. The guy takes a deep breath and offers me a tight smile. “We were close growing up. He watched out for my brother and me back in the days.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say the same pointless words that have been thrown my way since Tric’s body was brought back. The two men share a head nod between them and soon the gate starts to open.
“Be careful with our vice prez,” he says, stopping us from moving forward. “Tric was his pride and joy. The man hasn't been the same since we got the news.”
My throat tightens, imagining the man’s pain. Tric was my friend and as close to a brother as Zane is. Despite the turmoil that happened with him and his father, I knew Tric had forgiven the man, and still thought highly of him. It never mattered to him that his blood was linked to a motorcycle club or the stigma that followed such a tie. Tric believed they were good people, worth defending, and worth coming home to.
They let us pass and we continue on up the short drive. Rows of bikes are parked outside a building that looks more like a fortress. There are zero windows in the front and only one main door. Brick surrounds the sides, creating yet another barrier. A separate building, similar in size and shape to a pole barn, is offto the side and a few people walk in and out from there to the main building. When the door opens, chatter and music leak out.
“Let’s get this over with so we can head home.” I gesture to the door. Zane nods his head and we both open our doors and get out.
He follows me inside the door where, once again, we’re stopped. This time by an older gentleman with a cane and graying hair that peeks out under his black bandana. His leather cut looks weathered and well-worn, like it’s seen years of use on the road. His name patch reads Randy.
“Newcomers don’t get a free pass around here, son. What’s your business?” he asks.
Before we can answer, Austin makes an appearance next to him. “They’re here to see Jester, Mark.”
“Mark?” Zane questions and nods toward the patch. “How did you get Randy from Mark?”
The old man shares a smirk with Austin. “It's what the ladies used to call me back in the day. Randy Mark.”
Zane’s smile grows wider and he looks at the man like he’s his hero. My eyes meet Austin’s and he’s shaking his head. “Come with me.” He ushers us farther into the clubhouse.
The space is huge, way larger on the inside than it appears from the outside. The front looks deceptively like just a regular bar, complete with pool tables, darts, and seating areas. A haze hangs in the air, a mix of tobacco and marijuana.
“Have a drink. I’ll get Abel,” he says and directs us to the bar.
Zane sits and I follow after, keeping my back to the bar. After years of experience, I’ve learned to be vigilant in any situation.
