Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi by Karen Renee (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

They mounted their bikes and rode across town to the run-down apartment complex where the Miscreants were known to hang. Twilight was setting in, which meant it would be hit-or-miss if anyone would be out. However, if they had a beef with the Riot MC, the sound of their pipes would draw someone out for sure.

As they rounded the corner onto the dead end street, Har saw blue lights flash against the building before the chirp of a police siren.

The four of them pulled over and looking over his shoulder, he noticed two cruisers were behind them.

“Ain’t this some shit,” Cynic muttered.

The officers asked for licenses and registrations then retreated to their vehicles. Har kept an eye on the road in front of them. The Miscreants hung out at the dead end and while he wanted to blame this on them he couldn’t. It happened too fast for the Miscreants to set them up.

“May I ask what prompted you to pull us over?” Block asked one of the officers when he came back with their paperwork.

The officer cleared his throat. “Had a report of four motorcycles disturbing the peace and not riding quietly.”

It rankled with Har that a cop could make such a bald-faced lie. They hadn’t been speeding, and they’d have to idle outside someone’s door for fifteen minutes or more to disturb the peace.

The officers took their time examining their bikes and insisted they submit to field sobriety tests. Nearly an hour later, the officers allowed them to leave. Har led them down the street to where a few men were perched on the stoop to an apartment.

The burliest man stood and lumbered to the sidewalk in front of where Har stopped. He had a scar running from his temple down his cheek to his chin. Rumor had it, his father had given him the scar when he was sixteen. In retaliation he waited until his father passed out drunk, and beat the man to within an inch of his life, which led to his street name of Inch.

“What’s a white boy doin’ at the end of my street?”

“Curious if you made any money on the product you took from my men today.”

He squinted one eye making his scar move like a snake. “The fuck you talkin’ about?”

Har’s brows arched up. “So none of your men jumped Massive and Wreck?”

Inch frowned. “That the big man and the pock-marked dude who always hang together?”

Har lifted his chin.

Inch shook his head. “Fuck no. We ain’t got time. You motherfuckers push weed and we’ve moved on from that shit. You start cookin’ meth, we might stop you from sellin’ that.”

Yet another reason Har didn’t want to graduate to other drugs.

He nodded at Inch. “Then I’m sorry to bother you, man.”

He held up a hand. “Hold up, now. Those assholes sayin’ we did shit?”

Har bit his lip. “Yeah, but my gut told me to verify with the source.”

Inch shifted his head to give Har a side eye. “You a strange motherfucker, you know that?”

“Not the first to tell me that, but thanks.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

Har grinned. “Take it as one anyway.”

He circled his bike around and his brothers followed suit. They rode to the clubhouse without any further incident.

After he dismounted his bike, he took off his helmet and walked over to where Brute and Block were waiting on Cynic. Once Cynic ambled over, Har spoke.

“I don’t know about you three, but I believe every word Inch said. There’s no reason for them to jump those two. Even if their saddlebags were full, there’s a shit-ton more money in meth and coke. Not to mention Massive should’ve been able to take on two men at once.”

Cynic widened his eyes. “He has let himself go, brother.”

Har shook his head. “Maybe so, but if the Miscreants didn’t do it, then that leaves those two fighting each other and lying. That shit is not on.”

“Hell no, it isn’t,” Block declared.

“Noticed Layla’s car’s here,” Brute said, tipping his head toward the vehicle.

Har grinned. “For once, that might be a good thing. Let’s see who’s here. I want an emergency session of church. They aren’t back inside, they’ll have to figure out a way to get here.”

Chapter 14 Run of the Mill

Stephanie

I RODE INTO HAR’S GARAGE and frowned. His bike wasn’t there. After his parting comment about the scarf, I really expected him to be here. Inside the kitchen, I put my phone and keys on the counter, trying not to feel disappointed. My stomach rumbled, and I peeked into the freezer. A container of chicken tetrazzini caught my eye, but I wasn’t sure if Har would want to eat that. I closed the door and I sent a quick text to him.

Feel like chicken or should I order a pizza?

I went to my bedroom to change my clothes, semi-surprised to see a new window in my room already.

He did not mess around.

Knowing how much he didn’t like my well-worn pajamas, I opted for a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. I piled my hair on top of my head in a messy bun and went back to the kitchen.

No text back from him. I pulled a beer from the fridge and put in an order for a pizza to be delivered.

Never mind the text. Made an executive decision and ordered pizza.

I inserted a beer mug emoji and sent him the text. Half-way through my drink, the pizza arrived. Still no response from Har, so I plated up my food and ate in front of the TV.

While I rinsed my plate, my phone chimed with a text.

Sorry. At the clubhouse. Leaving in an hour.

I put the plate in the dishwasher and turned off the TV. In my room, I saw Har’s t-shirt that I wore that morning. I decided to sleep in it tonight and took it in the bathroom. After my shower, I curled up with a book on my futon. Part of me thought about