Read Old Man's Ride: Dust Bowl Devils MC for Free Online

once we’re in the area. I think I’ll want to keep you in sight, though.”
    I was no stranger to fights and rivalries and violence, but this was a bit much, and definitely more than I bargained for when I started this trip. “I should have taken the bus.”
     
    ---
     
    We didn’t ride further into town as I’d expected, but back onto the highway and off the next exit. The strip club sat at the end of a long gravel road, lit up with white and red lights. The billboard read “XXX Eagle’s Starlets” Another MC owned joint. This didn’t belong to the Dust Bowl Devils, though, it belonged to one of their rivals, the Northern Eagles. Oh, God. Whatever this was about, it would probably end in violence.
    Nomad parked the bike and I off in the woods before we even reached the parking lot. “Just stay here,” he said, “And be silent.”
    “ What’s going on?”
    He hesitated. He actually seemed to want to tell me. That alone was a surprise - normally I just expected to be kept in the dark. “Do you remember Whitney?” he asked.
    I nodded. She was older than me - I remember being a freshman in high school and seeing her around, jealous of her popularity and beauty. She’d been put in the same position as me, and had taken the same option - she left. That was four or five years ago, now. It was a much bigger scandal at the time, since her father was a full member of the club. I didn’t matter as much.
    “ We’re here to bring her home.”
    “ Oh.” I looked behind him at the billboard again. Even if she’d been given the boot, the club wouldn’t be happy with her working for their rivals.
    “ So, be careful.” He hopped on the back of Anchor’s bike, and they sped into the parking lot, spitting gravel and revving the engine and just making as much noise as they could.
    The fact that he’d left me with his bike said a lot. He trusts me. Whatever strange relationship was blooming between us, whether it would be short-lived, or if it was over already, he’d decided he trusted me. That was a lot, coming from a former MC president.
    The parking lot wasn’t full, but there were cars parked in maybe half the spaces. Anchor and Nomad rode in a doughnut circle in the middle of the space. Finally, his engine cut off, and I heard voices. I couldn’t see the front door, couldn’t see who they were talking to. I wanted to sneak closer but I was afraid to leave the bike. If Nomad came back to find me alone and the bike missing, he’d likely wring my neck.
    A woman screamed. Shit. I knew from past experience, a woman screaming didn’t necessarily mean the fight would end badly or even that there’d be a fight at all. But it wasn’t a good sign, either. I rested my hand on the key. He left the key! Maybe he didn’t trust me - maybe he’d simply lost his mind.
    I wish I could hear what they're saying. I definitely heard raised voices, now. Trouble.
    BANG. I jumped. That was a fucking gun . I moved quickly. This wouldn't be my first gunfight. It was another lesson from my youth - violently tamp down your panic. I turned the key, clipped my helmet back on, revved the engine, kicked up the stand, and burst through the branches in front of me. I should have been more worried about the guns, but all I was thinking was "Don't scratch the bike."
    If there were more shots, I couldn't hear them. A big man with a long black beard stood just a few feet from the front door. A woman crouched at his feet. Whitney . He fired his gun into the parking lot, at the cars.
    A second man, this one bald, stood off to the side behind another row of cars firing as well. I couldn't see Anchor or Nomad anywhere. Ducking behind the cars. Unharmed, I hope .
    My heart was racing. I could hear the blood rushing in my head, feel my lungs taking big, shaky gulps of air, but I bottled up those feelings and thought quickly and clearly. I didn't want to risk Whitney's safety, so I turned towards the bald guy and accelerated. As he turned and aimed