Page 3 of Holley Jolly Biker

Merlin became the tech guru.

Kettle became the enforcer.

And I became the Icer.

Nuke spoke then, “I want to add another rule. We will vote on everythin’ going forward, and this is no different. We don’t allow anyone to prospect with the club unless they are like-minded with us.”

I jerked up my chin in agreement, followed by Grey, Kettle, and Merlin.

And over the next five years, thanks to a security guard who used to be a member of a motorcycle club on our side. Any time a guy came through, and he appeared to be like us and society had failed him, he would give them our card and then send them our way.

That was how we allowed Xander to prospect, and then later, he became our treasurer.

Jury, he prospected, and then he became our road captain.

Then came Jasper. He was a real whiz when it came to paperwork; therefore, naturally, he became our secretary.

Unlike most of us, Jasper had already figured out a device that kept his beast caged. He did woodwork.

And over the past five years, thanks to everyone helping, we were able to get the rundown motel into decent fucking shape, if I do say so myself.

Now, in that once make-shift room, we had dubbed church.

And in the center of that room was a long wooden table with the Soulless Outlaws logo carved into the slab of wood by none other than Jasper. Our logo was something simple, but yet, still fucking fitting. It was a skull over a pile of bones.

No longer did we have those rusted-out folding chairs.

We had nice leather office chairs.

We converted the kitchen into something industrial.

And since none of us could cook, Merlin’s sister, Agatha, took over that duty.

Not only did she cook, but she also cleaned.

And by clean, I mean clean.

Everyone square inch of that place was so clean you could fucking eat off it.

I had just stepped out of my room on the third floor when I felt my phone ring.

Pulling it out, seeing Nuke’s name, I flipped it open and brought it to my ear, “Yeah.”

He said one word, “Cellar.”

That meant that Jasper and Jury had gone out and found the two little motherfuckers.

I grinned, hung up, pocketed my phone, and cracked my knuckles.

It was time to get to work.

Nuke

My arms were crossed over my chest as I watched Saint go to work.

When I first approached him five years ago, I had reservations about going to Saint when I decided to start a motorcycle club. However, over the years, those reservations have fled.

Saint was the one man you didn’t want to wind up in a closed off room with. Cause chances were you wouldn’t be leaving that room still breathing.