Brick: Motorcycle Club Romance (Dragon Runners Book 5) Read online

  “Hear Walrus an’ Scottie got into it last week over the run. Said Ratchet took too many chances on the Tail, playing chicken with the tourists, riding crazy, and catching the sheriff’s eye a little too close.”

  Brick peeled the paper from a plastic straw and stuck it into his milkshake. Beer drinking would come later at the clubhouse. Last week, Ratchet made a run into Tennessee carrying two saddlebags of cocaine. Brick calculated that load would have a street value of close to forty thousand, and if Ratchet expected to keep making money from that run, he needed to tone it down. As a prospect, Brick was on probation pending his first run, and he was nervous about it. He got a sick feeling in his gut whenever Isaac or one of the other Runners loaded up and left. Jesse said he would get used to it. Brick wasn’t so sure.

  “Ratchet’s a dumb fuck. Jesse’s thinkin’ ’bout pullin’ him from the Tail and puttin’ him on the Moonshiner 28. Longer route to Georgia, but fewer people to worry ’bout.”

  “You’d think he’d figure out that shit after what happened last summer to Roman.”

  Brick grunted and slurped up some frothy whipped cream. Walrus’s only son took one chance too many on the Tail and lost. Big-time. Roman had been showing off for a girl he had on the back of his bike, not on a run for the club, when it happened. He crossed over the line in a screaming hairpin curve right into the grill of a semi. Neither lived. Walrus had no choice but to have his son cremated as the body was in too many pieces to put back together.

  Roman wasn’t the first Runner to lose his life on the Tail, and he wouldn’t be the last. Brick hated that part of the club life. Being a Dragon Runner was all he ever dreamed about growing up, but the risks were high in making that choice. Still, he wondered from time to time if there was another way to ride free without risking it all.

  Taz took a big bite of the burger in front of him and shoved the mass to his cheek while he spoke. “Jesse talked about setting up the runs with two bikes for safety. One Runner and one prospect. Blackjack is arguing that’s too visible. Two or more colors running means a higher chance of getting stopped.”

  Brick took another big sip of his shake and scratched under his chin. Graduation meant no dress code, and he could grow the mustache and beard he’d always wanted. “Blackjack argues over anything these days. Don’t matter what it is, if Jesse says blue, he says red.”

  “I’m making my first run next week ridin’ with Bear. I’m kinda nervous ’bout it, but I need the money.”

  Brick blinked at his friend’s thoughtful face. “What’s goin’ on?”

  Taz looked up from his food. “Tambre’s pregnant, an’ Bear wants me to do right by her.”

  Brick huffed a laugh and stole a french fry from Taz’s plate. “Hell, man, Bear will kill you before the Tail does for knockin’ up his girl.”

  Taz and Tambre had been together since middle school, so it wasn’t a surprise that they would stay together after graduation.

  “I told Bear I’m patchin’ her as soon as I’m a full member. I think he’s trying to patch me quicker so’s I get a member’s share an’ can afford to put a ring on her finger too.”

  Brick huffed again and stole another fry. Old ladies were like wives in the club, but there were members who still opted for an official marriage in addition to putting a patch on their women. Brick didn’t see the point, as once you were committed, it was supposed to stick for a lifetime, but he respected his brothers for their choices. There was only one woman he would consider patch-worthy, and she’d had little or nothing to do with him for years. His virginity became history a year or so ago at the hands of an older club bunny. His father hadn’t said much about it other than to toss a line of condoms at him and tell him to “wrap it up first.” He had sampled several other women who came to the clubhouse for that purpose but hadn’t indulged since he found out a woman he’d brought to his bed had also been with Deuce. He supposed that shouldn’t bother him, but it did.

  Somebody upstairs must have heard Brick’s thoughts and decided to play a prank. The door to the diner suddenly ripped open and Deuce walked in. He raised his hands in the air and shouted, “Hey, you graduated sons of bitches! Welcome to the rest of your suck-ass lives.”

  Deuce strode in like he owned the place, his black motorcycle boots clomping loudly as he barreled through the crowd of people who’d once been his schoolmates. They scurried to get out of his way. Most of them made it; however, one person ended up colliding with him.

  Betsey bobbled the full tray of dirty dishes, trying to balance the heavy load. Brick frowned as he watched Deuce grin and knock his elbow upward just enough to send the tray crashing to the floor. They had been enemies since middle school, Deuce relentlessly teasing Betsey about her large breasts, ass, hair, secondhand clothes, and whatever else he could think of. She ignored him mostly, but once in a while she let loose. Brick recalled the time in the ninth grade when Deuce chased Betsey around the cafeteria with a red Solo cup, shouting, “Milk, milk.” That was one of the few times she fought back, picking up a carton of the liquid from a random table and throwing it at him. Both were suspended for a day, and when they came back to school, Brick punched his friend in the nose and earned his own suspension.

  Betsey squatted to pick up the broken plates and cups and load them on the round tray. Her short skirt made her position awkward as it stretched tight over her generous behind. She said nothing, but she wore a thunderous expression.

  Deuce laughed. “Oops, better be more careful. No tips for you, sweetheart.”

  Taz said something, but Brick was miles away, his attention on Betsey. She had graduated tonight as well, but instead of celebrating the milestone in her life, she’d traded in her cap and gown for her pink waitress uniform and was serving her fellow graduates. She had worked at Moses’s Diner for several years now and had served Brick and his buddies more than once. Brick couldn’t recall seeing her family at the graduation ceremony. The times he had tried to talk to her during their middle and high school years, she had run away, tongue-tied and red-faced. He had debated on whether this was because of his association with the motorcycle club, she didn't like him, or she was just plain shy. The interactions they'd had were few, but he had learned a lot from his observations. She was the oldest child and spent most of her free time either working or watching her younger siblings after school. Her father ruled the household with an iron fist, and Betsey had little social life during their school years. No parties, no movies, no football games, no dances, nothing a normal teenage girl would do during her time in school. Brick’s bullshit barometer rose high when he got a rare glimpse of the whole family out and about in the town. At one time he thought he should just give up on ever knowing Betsey as he watched the cute girl grow up, but the crush he had on her was just as strong now as the first time she walked into his middle school classroom.

  “Yo, Brick? You listening?”

  Brick’s eyes came back to Taz.

  “My bike is running rough, and the alignment is off. If I gotta keep up with Bear, I need some work done, but I ain’t got no money right now. Can you help me out?”

  Brick forced his thoughts from the girl who was lifting and hauling the heavy tray to the back. “Yeah. Come by the garage tomorrow morning and we’ll get it done.”

  “My brothers.” Deuce slid into the booth alongside Taz and slammed both hands on the Formica top. “Waitress! Get me a cheeseburger and fries. Pronto!” He turned to the two other occupants. “Losin’ your cherry next week, Taz. Be lucky if Bear doesn’t smear your ass all over the Tail on account of Tambre’s bun.”

  “Keep your voice down, moron.” Brick glowered at the loud man. “In fact, don’t talk club business at all.”

  Deuce’s manner changed from jovial to menacing. “Careful, prospect. Don’t forget, you’re talking to a full-fledged member.”

  Brick didn’t back down. “As a full-fledged member, you ought to know better than to come into a public diner spoutin’ shit about the club that a
nyone can hear. It’s a good way to put our brothers in danger, an’ that ain’t what it’s about.”

  “Like you’re some fuckin’ expert. You ain’t nothin’ special just because your daddy is in charge for now.”

  The sneer on Deuce’s face sparked something in Brick’s thoughts. “What do you mean ‘for now’? Jesse was voted in as president, and Blackjack agreed to it. Ain’t no one said nothing ’bout voting him out.”

  Deuce leaned back and grinned. “No one’s sayin’ nothing. Old Jesse is a fine president.” He drew fine out in a long drawl.

  Taz spoke up. “I ain’t heard nothin ’cept what my job is, an’ Brick’s right. Not the place to be talkin’ club business.”

  Deuce curled his lip again but wisely let it go. “Hey, waitress! Where’s my fuckin’ food?”

  Brick glanced around the diner. Betsey was nowhere to be seen. He assumed she was back in the kitchen tossing the broken plates and trying to make Deuce’s cheeseburger cook faster so he would leave sooner. “I’m going out for a smoke.”

  He slid out of the booth, ignoring the pleading look from Taz not to leave him alone with Deuce. His bulky frame made the red plastic squeak. There was only so much he could take of the obnoxious man. He walked outside and breathed deeply of still cool night air, its bite stinging his nostrils. He let out the breath on a stream of vapor and saw no one at the picnic tables in the lot next to the diner. Brick climbed up and sat on one while he pulled out his pack of Winstons and lit up. The orange tip glowed as he drew in a lungful and blew a cloud of smoke over his head. Taz’s run next week was on his mind. Dangerous stuff. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he worried for his friend. He realized Taz needed the money almost as much as he needed Bear’s approval, but if something happened to Taz, what would Tambre’s future look like? Would the Dragon Runners step in and help, or would she end up as a single mom struggling to put food on the table? What options did an eighteen-year-old girl have with no money, no real job skills, and a baby on the way? The club bunnies sometimes got money from the members, but that would put Tambre on a downhill slide with no net. Besides, Bear would never let that happen. Nor would he. There had to be something more. He had no vote as a prospect, but once he was a full member….

  The sounds of yelling caught his ear. He couldn’t make out the words, but he could hear anger in the male voice. He climbed off the picnic table carefully as to not get splinters in his ass and walked quietly toward the ruckus. The dim light at the back of the diner showed Betsey standing with her parents. Her father was shouting and gesturing wildly and pointing at her. Betsey’s mom was standing meekly beside him, wearing a shapeless dress with her hands folded in front of her body. Betsey stood tall, her arms rigid at her sides and her fists clenched in tight knots. Brick watched as she handed a wad of cash to him and said something. The man’s arm lashed out and cracked across her face, making the girl stagger, but she didn’t fall. She straightened back up and reassumed her stiff stance.

  Brick’s gut flared with anger, and he ran at them. “Hey! What the fuck?”

  Betsey’s father had reared back to take another swing at the defiant girl but changed his mind after Brick’s yell. He straightened his Sunday jacket and pushed his glasses up his nose as Brick came up to the trio.

  “You okay?” he addressed Betsey, ignoring the other two for the moment. Her cheek was bright red with a clear handprint. She stayed silent but nodded and bit her lip. Brick could see her eyes were watering; she was fighting to hold back the tears. He admired the girl’s strength.

  He turned to the reverend. “I repeat. What. The. Fuck?”

  The man squirmed in his suit. “This is none of your concern, boy. This is family business between me and my… my daughter.”

  Brick’s eyes narrowed. He tapped the insignia on the front of his leather cut. “You know who I am an’ what this means?”

  “I know all about your gang.” The tang of alcohol wafted to Brick’s nose. Fuck, the good reverend was drunk.

  “The Dragon Runners ain’t a gang. We’re a club. We ride free an’ easy, watchin’ out for each other no matter what. They got my back, and I got theirs. I can call out and have a band of brothers here in two seconds flat. You wanna see? Lay your hand on this girl again an’ I’ll give you a bird's-eye view.”

  The man shrank into himself, and the woman at his side disappeared entirely. Brick heard Betsey’s indrawn breath, but his eyes locked on the weaving man in front of him.

  The reverend dropped his head and muttered, “Family business,” again. He stumbled as he moved off. His wife glanced fearfully at the retreating back and quickly handed an envelope to Betsey. She nodded once before scurrying after her husband.

  Brick turned to the waitress he’d had a crush on for years. “You sure you’re okay? That was a pretty hard blow to take. You’ll be sore tomorrow.”

  She sniffed and looked at the white square in her hand. “I’m okay. Ain’t nothing new ’cept he wanted my tips bad enough to come get ’em instead of waitin’ till I got home. Says I hafta pay rent now to live there since I graduated. I guess he's outta ’shine an' broke again. I hope he lets Mama drive him home. He ain't in no condition to be at the wheel.”

  She opened the card and read the Happy Graduation printed under a picture of bright balloons. The inside said The sky is the limit.

  Betsey chuffed at the words. “Wish I had a bottle o’ wine to go with this cheese.”

  Brick laughed and leaned against the wall of the building. He had the urge to pull out another cigarette but thought better of it in front of the girl. “It’s the thought that counts, right? You graduated, an’ that’s something. There’s plenty who didn’t.”

  She sniffed, folded the card, and put it in the wide front pocket of her uniform. “I guess so. Deuce didn’t even get to senior year.”

  “Deuce is a moron. He’s lucky he knows how to tie his shoes.”

  “He’s wearing motorcycle boots now.”

  “Still a moron.”

  She smiled at Brick’s assertion. “Yeah, he is.”

  Brick felt sucker-punched by the happy grin Betsey gifted to him. Underneath that subdued exterior was a warm and vibrant woman, ready to be freed. His attraction to her hadn’t dimmed over the years; it had gotten even stronger. She stood close enough to him that he could see subtle red highlights in her brown hair and smell her clean scent under the layer of diner grease. His groin tightened in response to having the woman he had wanted for so long within his reach. He didn’t stop to think about it as he cupped her unmarred cheek and pressed his lips to hers.

  If she had pulled back, he would have stopped and walked away. Instead, she jumped in surprise and froze. Brick molded her mouth to his, and she tentatively relaxed and let him inside. Sweeter than sugar, his brain said before all his blood rushed south into the biggest, hardest boner he’d ever had. He was careful to hold himself away from her, fighting the urge to grind into her softness. Her movements were awkward, and he wondered if this was her first kiss.

  He finally ended it, pulling back slowly. Her face was flushed and her breath was choppy. “I… I… I gotta get back to work. I… um….”

  She ran two steps before turning and slamming into him, kissing him back, hard and quick. Then she disappeared into the kitchen without another glance back.

  Brick stood stock-still, his cock still hard and the sweet taste of Betsey in his mouth. He wanted to run after her, to claim her as his and make the world a safe place for her. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not while he was still prospecting and earning his place in the club. Not while he had nothing real to offer her.

  One day, he vowed. One day.

  Betsey hurried into the cramped kitchen, hoping the heat from the flat grills and oil fryers would disguise the flush in her face. Hopefully the handprint would fade as well and not leave a bruise. Most of the time, her father left the bruises where no one would see. She supposed seeing constant black eyes or cut lips on the preac
her’s wife and daughter wouldn’t be tolerable to his flock of churchgoers, but as long as he hid the abuse, it was okay. He never touched the younger kids, just his wife and Betsey.

  Brick’s face flashed across her eyes and her stomach tightened up. When he spoke of his club, something resounded in her. “We ride free an’ easy, watchin’ out for each other no matter what. They got my back, and I got theirs. I can call out and have a band of brothers at my back in two seconds flat.”

  Riding free. Watching out for each other. Family and a sense of belonging were things Betsey craved more than air. Her mother barely acknowledged her existence, and her father ignored her completely these days until he needed her tip money. She reached a finger up to her lips where Brick had kissed her. She’d watched the russet-haired boy grow into a man and never thought she would see the day when he would ever have an interest in the preacher’s plain daughter. Over the years, she had spent many nights dreaming of what it would be like for the handsome biker to touch her, hold her, and kiss her. It was probably a fluke, but when Brick stood up and defended her to the reverend, a thrill zipped through her heart. A feeling so new it was scary. A feeling that someone cared. A feeling she wasn’t alone. A feeling she had a place in the world. A feeling she wanted to save and bottle so she could keep it forever.