Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

“I’d rather rinse my ears out with bleach than hear you sing,” Ryder muttered from his seat.

Quake slid him a glance, noting that he had his hand under the table at his hip. His fingers were caressing the head of his axe with smooth, rhythmic strokes. He loved his weapon a little too much. Ryder never went anywhere without it. Quake was sure that the Viking slept with it under his pillow or at least within easy reach. It was almost as if it was an extension of himself he couldn’t bear to be without.

Roxy reappeared with their drinks. Placing her tray on the table, she used the bottle opener she carried in the pocket of her apron to open them one by one, each lid making a telltale pop.

“Thanks,” Quake smiled, wrapping his fingers around the chilled glass bottle.

“Your appetizers will be out shortly. Your food shouldn’t be too long,” she told him, giving him a wink.

“So what now?” Inferno questioned once she’d left. “So far we’ve found nothing. No hint or sign of where Phantom might have taken Magenta.”

Stone took a swig from his beer and scanned the crowd before turning back to the table. “Asking around is taking too long. We need to take different measures.”

Quake caught his gaze. “Like?”

Roxy appeared, preventing any more conversation. She deftly unloaded her tray, placing the big baskets of nachos and wings on the surface in front of them. Adding a stack of small melamine plates, she plunked down four poly soufflé cups of condiments and identified them. “Ranch dip, buffalo, honey barbeque, and firestarter. Can I get you fellas anything else?”

Stone shook his head. “More firestarter and our food when it’s ready. Thanks.”

Ryder growled to see her ass jiggle, watching her strut back to the bar. “I think she’d take us,” he murmured. “She seems to want it.”

“She’s human,” Inferno pointed out. “There’s no way she could handle you, let alone the four of us. You’d break her.”

“What do you have in mind?” Quake asked their leader, reaching over to grab a wing and dip it in the hottest sauce to achieve perfection.

Stone didn’t speak for a moment. Finishing his beer, he helped himself to a loaded nacho chip. “Grey Smoke.”

Quake frowned. “The Indian who poses for pictures and sells trinkets to tourists? Not to mention the hocus pocus he dabbles in.”

“Show some respect,” Stone scolded. “He’s a veteran. A warrior and a shaman.”

“A two-bit actor and a source for magic mushrooms, you mean.”

“Trust me, Grey Smoke is far more than what he seems. He’s powerful. A pure spirit and a clear channel. Seeking his guidance could set us on the right path. Ryder? You take that last wing, and you’ll be on my shit list.”

Hearing the warning in Stone’s voice, the Viking froze with his hand over the basket before retracting it. He looked at the pile of bones on his plate. “We could order more.”

“Yeah,” Inferno snickered. “And it’s always the same. You have no control and end up eating them all.”

They finished the appetizers and were ready for their main courses when Roxy appeared with them. Everyone grabbed for the poppers. Living with the other gargoyles for so long, Quake knew to get in fast or risk missing out.

Stone reminded them that they still had things to do and he wanted them to hurry and finish. The four of them focused on eating, devouring their food, and downing their beers.

“So . . . ,” Quake drawled, “we’re headed for Grey Smoke next?”

Stone shook his head. “You don’t ask a shaman for help without bringing a gift. It’s an energy exchange. A show of respect. There’s a truck stop about five miles from here. They should have everything we need.”

The four of them pissed at the edge of the parking lot rather than use the facilities inside. Mounting their bikes, they headed out, following Stone’s lead. They topped off their tanks at the truck stop and washed their hands while their President was inside the gift shop. He came out with a large sack and a smaller one that he stuffed in his saddlebags.

“You ready?” he asked them.

The three of them nodded.

“Let’s ride.”

Quake hated that they headed south, backtracking to where Grey Smoke lived. His underground house was dug into the side of a hill. The windmill that pumped water for his horses was the landmark everyone looked for to find him. The strikingly handsome Indian was essentially a hermit, preferring the company of animals to people and being surrounded by nature to concrete and steel. But he was a Ute holy man—as well as a source for magic mushrooms. He didn’t sell to just anyone, though. If you didn’t pass the test, he’d throw you off the bridge quicker than a coconut-laden swallow.

He was sitting in the dark, wrapped in a blanket in a rocking chair when they pulled in. “Maiku!” he greeted Stone warmly. “Mother Earth heard the rumble of your machines, but the wind had already whispered you were coming. The sweat lodge is nearly ready. You have questions. Let us seek the answers together.”

Following Grey Smoke’s lead, the men stripped down outside the sweat lodge and ducked into it, sitting their naked asses on towels that they spread on the ground. The shaman had built a fire in the center that had heated it like a sauna.

Ryder beamed, feeling right at home.

“Empty your minds,” Grey Smoke instructed. “Still your bodies and quiet your thoughts. Open yourselves to the messages that come, but remember, dreams and visions are not always what they seem. Hold onto them. Keep them with you. Once we are done, we will share what we have seen and seek to understand.”

Quake did as he was told, trying to emulate the empty-mind meditation that Stone practiced. Their President could put himself in an altered state in a heartbeat given the right circumstances, and tonight certainly qualified. The