Chapter One
In some ways, Reese chose this life, but in other ways, he wasn’t only born into it, he was destined for it. Anyone can sit around a table outside in the late spring heat and talk about having a sense of freedom while chowing on a greasy piece of pizza, but to actually enact that freedom, earn it, fight for it, defend it, and honor it was a whole other thing.
These kinds of words constantly floated through Reese’s mind, and lately it had been worse. Charters across the state and country were being harassed for what the club’s now main President calledsmall dick swinging bullshit.Close friends were in jail, waiting on charges, trials, and verdicts. Others were scattered, taking their rides, their cuts, taking that freedom for what it was worth, willing to fight right up until their last breath to prove to the patch that they weren’t going to give up or give in. Some were going to end up running with thelost men, meaning they’d have to take their own patches off their cuts and burn them. A shot to the club, but if that was the only way to survive, then that’s what you would do. And if any of those brothers came strolling into Watersald, Reese already knew that he would vote to patch them back in.
Sitting to the left of Levi, wearing the VP patch was maybe just part of beingborn into destiny, but Reese took it seriously, considering all he had to give up to get there. Carefully navigating the club through these tough waters, while keeping old deals alive, and finding new ones.
As he sat on his ride, finishing what he knew could always be his last smoke, he took a big drag, dropped the smoke, and stepped on it. He exhaled and looked off to the distance. Mountains bled into the hazy horizon as the midday sun pounded down on him. His all-black attire and black leather cut that readBack Down Devil MCacross the back with the signature skull wasn’t always comfortable in moments like these, but it was a rite of passage to wear the cut. And the only way he would be caught without his cut was if he were dead.
“You ready, brother?”
Reese turned and took off his sunglasses.
Ellis was walking toward him, a keyring hooked around his pinky finger. He was the money guy of the club, making sure dues were paid and the clubhouse was stocked with food, beer, booze, and women. He had short black hair, slicked back, always looking wet. His lip forever curled up, looking pissed off, ready to attack.
“Give me that,” Reese ordered and put his right hand up.
A warm breeze kicked up and threw some of his hair across his face. It wasn’t exactly long, but long enough. Ellis tossed the key and Reese caught it without looking.
“You sure we weren’t followed?” Reese asked.
“Best I can tell,” Ellis said. “Who are you worried about?”
“I’ll give you three guesses,” Reese said as he approached the old door to the old storage unit. “But the first one doesn’t count.”
“Funny,” Ellis said. “DRMand therunnersaren’t going to bother us up here. And if they wanted to start a fucking fight right now, I’m equipped.”
“Meaning what?” Reese asked as he tried to turn the key, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Check this out,” Ellis said.
He slid a small, dirty leather bag off his back and opened it to reveal that it was almost empty, but had only a few items in the bottom that caught Reese’s attention.
“Jesus,” Reese said. “Is that…”
“Grenades, brother.”
“What the hell are you doing with that shit? You getting ready for a war?”
Ellis raised an eyebrow.
Reese turned his head away.
We are in a war. I get it, bro. I get it. Fuck.
“One of those stupid pricks even sniff around here, I’ll pull the pin and blow their assholes all the way up to Huma,” Ellis said.
“Let’s not draw any attention to this charter,” Reese said. “We’re one of the few left standing right now. Holding our ground. Don’t give them ammo to come after us.”
“A couple of fucking grenades compared to what we deal with?” Ellis asked and laughed.
“Yeah, right,” Reese said.
Shit had been weighing on his shoulders for weeks now. Trying to figure out how to seal up a couple of deals and then convince Levi to use the cash for something else. Even just for a little bit. There had to be a way to put some money into real estate or land development that would give the club a sense of legitimacy, and allow them to breathe through the bullshit sweeping across the state and country.
Yet, here was Reese, messing with an old key in an old lock on an old storage unit that hadn’t been open in probably close to ten years. Not since…
The lock finally popped.