Page 32 of Last Mile

“Jesus, Peterson, from the way you talk you want me standing beside them in the urinals.”

“I would totally be down for that,” Peterson replied with a wink.

“I’ll try my best, but you can forget me being anywhere near germ- infested urinals.”

Gavin glanced between us. “While that sounds great in theory, just how do we get Sam on the back of Bishop’s bike? I mean, do I suddenly have a malfunction with the bitch seat on mine?”

I shook my head. “As a hang- around, you won’t be taking your bike.”

“Huh?” Gavin asked.

Leaning forward in my seat, I replied, “Prospects and hang-arounds don’t get to ride their bikes on a run. Because they haven’t earned full privileges yet, they end up driving a truck or car, which inevitably makes them stand out even more.”

At both Gavin’s and Peterson’s surprised looks, I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t read up on that part?”

“I’m sure I read it— I just forgot it,” Gavin mumbled.

“Do you mean to tell me the Mighty McTavish actually forgot something?” I teased. He responded by maturely throwing a wadded-up napkin at me.

“So if Gavin is driving or riding with Joe, we just need a way to get you onto that bike,” Peterson said.

“No need to worry about it. I’ll get on that bike.”

“How?” Gavin asked.

“I don’t know exactly at the moment, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think this fly-by- the- seat-of- your- pants attitude is good. We need a plan.”

“The plan is simple. I use my assets and our newfound friendship. It needs to happen in the moment. Anything too rehearsed will look suspicious.”

“I guess you’re right.”

I grinned. “Oh, I know I’m right.” I turned to Peterson. “Now how about the bureau footing the bill for some waffles? Being a femme fatale has made me work up quite an appetite.”

Peterson chuckled before turning to Gavin. “When it comes to Vargas, I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

“Damn straight,” I muttered.

CHAPTER SIX: BISHOP

There were a lot of things that brought me pleasure in life— sex, boxing, time with my family— but none of them quite compared to the feeling of taking my bike out on the open road. The sheer exhilaration of the wind rippling your clothes, the way the world melted into a blur of colors, and the freeing isolation of it being nothing but you and the road. Those were the reasons that called to all types of men from the weekend warrior with his nine-to-five office job to the upstart desperate to stick it to the man. Preacher Man had called it a balm for his soul, and I couldn’t have agreed with him more.

I didn’t have to glance at my watch to know we were making good time. Since we made the trek yearly, I knew the route to the Virginia headquarters of the Raiders by heart. Each of the Southeast chapters as summoned to meet once a year to take care of necessary club business. While the actual meeting lasted an hour at best, the better part of the weekend was spent hanging out, getting drunk, and catching up with our other brothers. And fucking. Lots of fucking fresh ass.

But this year’s trip had a different feel than usual. It was because of what our chapter planned to discuss at the meeting, which was our deal with the Rodrigues Cartel. For the most part, what we were doing was unchartered territory, so we weren’t sure how our other brothers were going to take it. If they didn’t go for it, they could take our patches, which would fucking suck.

There was certainly a tense feeling in the air as we had packed up this morning. The blinding glare of gleaming chrome filled the Raiders parking lot when I stepped out of the clubhouse. Raiders from all over north Georgia had come out for the run. I spoke to a few of the out-of-town guys as I made my way to the bike.

Since I was a less-is-more kind of guy when it came to packing, I finished with my rucksack earlier than the others. Leaning back against the seat of my bike, I watched as my brothers, old ladies, girlfriends, and sweet butts scurried around.

Across from me, Deacon had squatted down to address a pouting Willow. “Do you really have to go, Daddy?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, but I do.” He cupped her chin. “But don’t be sad. You’ll barely have time to miss me, since I’ll be back at the end of the weekend.”

“Promise?”

Deacon smiled as he pulled Willow into his arms. “I promise.”