Tread: Biker Romance (Ronin MC Series Book 1) by Justin Morrow, Brandace Morrow

physically with Kit when I found her. Those drunken fucktards were batting a thousand for fuck ups lately.
    I made the turn down Kit’s row. It was a small neighborhood with plenty room between houses. If suburbs didn’t make me sick, I wouldn’t mind living out here. It was upscale but not yuppie-scale. Kit’s place was in the back corner.
    I pulled into her driveway, only seeing one bike, and it didn’t belong to Benny or Kale. Heads were going to roll back at the clubhouse. Kit’s truck wasn’t there and the door hung wide open. I killed the motor and coasted the rest of the way up the drive. I stopped the car and popped out as quiet as I could. Drawing my gun, the barrel trained on the open door, I stole peeks into the windows but all was dark inside. I rotated around the doorway bit by bit, trying to see the intruder without entering the front door. Nothing.
    Pressing onward, I used my non-shooting hand to push the door slightly. Stepping in, I swiveled around the doorway to the right as smooth and fast as I could. The dining room was clear, so I made my way into the kitchen, trying to systematically clear the house in a counterclockwise pattern.
    Kitchen was clear. As I looked around the wall of the kitchen, I acquired a target. He was sitting on the couch with his hat on backwards. I edged a little closer. It was Royal. Come to think of it, I should have just looked closer at the damn bike outside. I eased behind him and saw he held a piece of paper.
    “Hey, bro, what’re you doin’ here alone?”
    Dude didn’t even jump. I walked around the side to see Royal had a serious expression, coupled with a blank stare.
    “You all right?”
    “She’s gone,” he finally replied.
    “Who, Kit? Where did she go? What does the note say?”
    “She got a job. Packed her shit and split.”
    “Where are Benny and Kale?”
    “Dunno.”
    “Those fuckin’ guys, man. What’s the damn note say, already?”
    “She got a goddamned job, just like I said.”
    “So she had this planned? How come Harvey didn’t say anything?”
    “I don’t think he knows, bro.”
    “Oh, man, he’s gonna kill the ’spects. We gotta get back to the clubhouse. What are we gonna tell Harvey?”
    “The truth. Let’s go.”
    Royal followed me through the kitchen. I turned when I heard him open a drawer. He pulled out a key and continued on. We left the house and Royal locked up. I let him peel off in front of me and wondered how this was all going to go down.
    We arrived at the rear of the saloon and saw Tatum smoking a cigarette. She lunged for me before I stopped rolling, but I cut her off before she could open her mouth.
    “Where’s Harvey, Tatum?” I asked.
    “Clubhouse.”
    I spun the ’Vette around and pulled into my clubhouse parking spot. Royal pulled up next to me.

 
     
     
     
     
    I HUMMED A SONG THAT was stuck in my head since the day before as I straightened the coffee mugs and wiped the bar as I tried to stay invisible. Something was going on. Everyone was piling out as soon as Harvey showed up. It was none of my business, but I had a feeling Kit was involved, and since I slept in her bed last night, I was pretty sure I was going to be pulled into it sooner or later.
    The front door slammed open, making me jump. My already sore muscles protested and I rolled a shoulder stiffly. Tatum stomped to the bar and threw down her purse. “Give me some coffee,” she grumbled.
    I stared at her until she looked up from her phone and raised her eyebrow. I put a hand on my hip. “I don’t know how Kit ran this thing, but you’re gonna have to give me a little more than an order if you want service.”
    Tatum let out a surprised laugh then studied me up and down. “Well, well. Looks like you got up on the feisty side of the bed this mornin’. Whose bed was that again?”
    I was learning not to underestimate any of these women. They were all far from stupid, and just as hardened as the men. If I didn’t want to be a doormat,