A few hundred feet ahead, the rest of the pack has pulled off the road.
Never leave a brother behind.
The instinct to stop with them is there, but Z and Rock had been clear when we met up earlier at the gas station outside of Catskill. If anything like this happened, we were to keep riding ahead.
So, that’s what we do.
Ahead of me, Remy slows and flips on his blinker. He and Vapor seamlessly move into the right lane. Griff and I follow.
After the tolls, Remy turns right and pulls off the road into a circle of gravel on the side.
“This was our exit anyway,” he shouts over the combined rumble of our engines.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, the rolling thunder of the rest of the club reaches us.
“They’re coming,” Serena says.
“Hope it’s all of them,” I mutter, firing up my engine again.
The four of us wait until everyone goes by, then wait another few minutes to make sure cops aren’t right behind them.
Remy pulls out first, Vapor second, then Griff and I. We ride along a country road deep in Union County. Can’t remember if I’d ever been this way before I went to prison. No old memories attached to the area. Somewhere new to discover.
Remy’s turn signal blinks and he slows his bike. There’s a small dirt turnoff in front of a high chain link fence to our left. The gate’s open so we ride through. Dust clouds around us. The rest of the two clubs are waiting in the parking lot. Most of the bikes already backed into spaces.
Behind us, two younger brothers rush to close and lock the gates. The metal clinks and screeches shut.
Z’s standing in front of a spot near the front door and he waves for me to take it. I shut the bike down and curl my hands a few times. Fifteen years of not riding really adds up after two hours.
“Ooo, my butt is numb.” Serena braces her hands on my shoulders and gets off the bike.
As I take my helmet off, she squeezes my bicep and leans in, kissing my cheek. “How’d that feel?”
“Good.” I turn and catch her lips for a more thorough kiss. “Best part was having you on the back.”
“I liked being there,” she whispers.
“Good.”
“Don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to.” She passes her hand over her stomach and peeks at me from under her lashes.
Shit, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have her ride today. “Are you okay?” I curl my arm around her waist, dragging her closer. She stumbles, her arms flailing for a second. “Easy. I got you.”
“Sorry, my legs are still wobbly.” Thin nervous laughter follows her words.
“Are you worried?” I ask in a low voice.
“Maybe a little.” An apologetic expression lifts her eyebrows.
“I’ll be with you as much as possible. But if I’m not, stick with Lilly and Hope.” Anyone at a Lost Kings MC party would be nuts to disrespect a president’s ol’ lady. Serena should be safe with one of them.
Z’s boots crunch over the pavement. “You coming or not, G?”
“Yeah. Gimmie a second.” I release Serena and get off my bike.
“Woo! That was a good one!” Sparky races over the pavement with his fist in the air and jumps on Stash’s back.
Shaking my head, I take Serena’s hand and walk over to Z, Teller, and Charlotte. “Everything go all right with the cops?”
“Yeah, they wanted to bust Steer’s balls,” Z answers. “Wrote him a few tickets.”
Steer walks up with the tickets clutched in his hands. “Fucking ridiculous.”
“I’ll handle them,” Charlotte offers, holding out her hand.
“She’ll give you the friends and family rate,” Teller adds.
Z moves in closer to me, while Steer joins the others. “How’d they do?”
“Remy? Fine. They ride well.” I cock my head. “You realize I’m a little rusty myself, so not exactly the best one to evaluate other riders.”
“Rusty, my ass.” Z slaps my shoulder. “Riding’s in your blood, Grumpy.”
Serena snort-laughs, then covers it with a cough.
I peer down at her. “Think that’s funny, huh?”
“Only because you’re so sweet to me.”
“Thank fuck he’s sweet to someone,” Z grumbles.
I glance at the building we’re standing in front of. “Add some glass front doors and little orange towers on the roof and it would look like one of those old chain hotels.” I can’t think of the name right now, it’s been so long.
“That’s what it used to be,” Z says. “Good eye.”
I grunt in response and follow him to the heavy wooden front doors. One of the prospects, Stitch, hurries to open it and Z nods at him as we pass.
Serena’s hand tightens around mine and her pace slows. I can only guess at the bad memories that might be coming back to her visiting this place again. I tug her closer and lean down, kissing her cheek. “Happy you’re with me, buttercup.”