“Only completely terrified,” I say with a rueful laugh, trying my best to sound light but by the furrow in his brow I can tell I’m not convincing him. The asshole laughs as he pulls me tight and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“You’ll do great Babydoll. Want a rundown before we head in?” I nod, my eyes going wide with nerves and apprehension. He laughs again and tucks me into his side, slinging my arm around my shoulders as we walk toward the massive ironbound double doors of the compound.
“Alright, Basics. King is the top dog, the President, and Axel is his VP. Roxy, King’s Ol’ Lady, runs the roost. She’s really the one in charge, but never tell that to King,” he says with a chuckle. “Most of the Brothers have a worse bark than their bite. One thing to remember, no matter what happens, you are safe here with me. No one would dare mess with you. You are here with me and that commands respect. Flip side of that though, what you do reflects on me too. So, if you want to get sloshed, find me first,” he winks, and I can’t help but laugh. “When we get in there, I need to make the rounds, but I’ll set you up with Roxy and the girls before I take off.”
“Okay, so... scary assholes won’t bite me, bow down before Roxy, and try my best not to make a complete ass of myself. Got it,” he nods his approval and laughs at my succinct assessment.
“Perfect. Ready?” he asks, tilting his head toward the doors. I settle my shoulders and give one curt nod.
Now or never, bite the bullet girl.
Sawyer pushes through the massive doors and we enter the renovated roundhouse that is the home of the Forsaken Sons. Though clubhouse is so not the right word for this place, It’s a goddamn fortress. A solid brick wall runs along the perimeter of the grounds and the massive iron gate guards the entrance to the lot. The building itself is two stories tall with no windows facing the street, offering nothing but a blank brick facade to anyone passing by, with the massive double doors facing the lot breaking up the otherwise unexceptional design. Compound really is the perfect word for this place. The reassuring warmth of Sawyer’s palm ushers me through the doors into this whole new world.
I let him guide me through the doors and into a wide entry hall opening into a massive common space. You’d think a space this large would feel cavernous, but the room feels homey and warm. Straight ahead, I see the beginning of the row of massive garage style doors that once upon a time opened for the trains serviced by the roundhouse and form the inner curve of the half crescent shape the building follows.
As we enter the main room, a long bar running the entire length of the left wall and several tables scattered between the bar and a set of pool tables. An insanely large TV takes up most of the far wall and is surrounded by a couple leather couches and chairs. The floors throughout the whole space are a warm knotty pine and the walls are painted a deep red. Well, I think they are painted red, every available inch of wall space is covered with signs, license plates, posters, bike parts, and framed pictures. Covering the wall to the right and along the hallway are rows of mugshots and a brass sign that says “Hall of Fame” hanging above them.
Before we make it even ten feet into the room, one of the Brothers comes barreling toward us with a wide smile and his arms thrown open for a hug. It’s Goldilocks again but this time I get a much clearer view of him. He’s sporting a mass of wavy, sandy-brown hair, a thick mountain man beard, and the most shockingly blue eyes I have ever seen. He’s wearing what I am coming to recognize as the “Northern Biker Uniform” of faded jeans, biker boots, skintight Henley, and his cut. He rushes Sawyer and bear hugs him, knocking him back and almost off his feet. I can’t contain the laugh that bubbles up at the spectacle, the new man penguin walking around in a circle as he continues to hug the life out of Sawyer as he tries to stay on his feet.
Alrighty then. Safe to say this was the absolute last thing I was expecting to see from a group of badass bikers. Maybe this is the best bromance ever…
“Gage. Fuck. Get off me you fat fuck,” Sawyer growls, trying to shove the other man who is apparently named Gage off him. I think I prefer Goldilocks though between the bearish nature and his unfairly perfect hair.
“Ah me wee lad has brought himself a lass home to meet the family!” Gage crows in such a thick Irish accent I can hardly understand him.
Sawyer shoves Gage off with a jab to the ribs that sends Gage stumbling back, clutching his side and laughing. “Put the accent away ya damned leprechaun.”
“Yer a fecking eejit Sawyer. I’m delightful,” Gage says with a cheesy bright grin, clearly leaning into the accent just to annoy Sawyer.
Rolling his eyes and turning back to me, Sawyer waves his hand dismissively at the other man and says, “Tessa, this man-bear-child is Gage. Don’t listen to a word he says, he’s a dirty scheming Irishman who can’t be trusted,” he gives me a teasing wink as Gage takes a dramatic bow, looking entirely too pleased with Sawyers introduction.
“Sawyer me lad, ye flatter me. Nice to meet ye Tessa,” Gage says, his accent dialing back a few notches. He steps forward and inserts himself in front of Sawyer and offers me his arm. “Now come with me love. I’ll give ye the run down and show ye around while me boyo here does his thing. Ye’ll run for the hills if ye have to put up with this sad sack all night,” he says with a bright smile. I can’t help being utterly charmed by him and his antics. Returning his smile, I loop my arm into his and spare a glance over my shoulder for Sawyer as I’m whisked down the hall by the massive Irish biker.
The words “hipster bare-knuckle boxer” come to mind when looking at Gage. His long hair is left to its own devices and swept to one side, but he could easily pull off the whole top knot man bun thing. His beard is full but looks touchably soft and well groomed. He smells of beard oil, leather, and a heady cologne. There is colorful ink peeking out from the neckline of his shirt and onto the backs of his hands so I’m assuming he is just as covered as Sawyer. Unlike Sawyer’s ink though, Gage’s seems to be a riot of rich colors. Something about the colorful ink strikes me as fitting for the insanely bright and colorful personality of this man.
“Now, Tessa my dear. Let’s go over the basics…”
Guess I’m just diving right in. Alrighty then!
Chapter 14
Sawyer
That fucking Leprechaun.
I really shouldn’t be surprised. Gage is insane and since naming himself my “Leprechaun Godfather,” I really should have expected him to latch onto Tessa. He has her by the arm and is waving around the room like a goddamn theme park tour guide. On the bright side, if she can survive him, she can survive anything in this madhouse. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m more amused or afraid of him taking her off to god knows where. With Tessa off on her whirlwind tour with my psychotic best friend, I grab a drink and make the expected rounds.
Respect. Without it, we have nothing. It’s a cornerstone of the Club; you show respect, you get respect.
Kiki is already popping the cap off a beer when I pull up to the bar and she shoots me a sly smile, sliding the bottle my way. “Hey Sawyer, been a while.”
“Hey Keek. I’ve been busy…” I answer lamely, taking a long pull from the bottle, hoping to avoid the entire topic of our last encounter.