Ryder: MC Biker Romance (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club Book 8) by Jayne Blue Page B

I’d guess he was
only a few years older than me.
    He lead on his
bike as Ridge, and I followed him to the garage set up they were trying. I
thought the club and the garage ought to be in the same space. But one issue at
a time. I’d take that up later. They had a nice sized building, and it looked
like a lot of space to grow. I parked my bike while Cruz got us up to speed.
    “So I’ve got three
good mechanics, Brett, Polk, and Nero.”
    “Are they on board
with this deal?”
    “Yeah, Brett got
shot in the chest last year collecting payment on some oxy we were delivering.
Nearly bled to death while Nero plugged the hole with his fist. Yeah, these
three are very interested in finding cash and fewer sucking chest wounds.”
    “Shit. Lucky to be
alive.”
    “Hell yeah. What
these three don’t have is any fucking idea on how to run a damn business. And
if I’m busy running the security side of things.”
    “That’s why Ridge
is here. To help you like I’m helping your mechanics.”
    “How many places
you patrolling right now?” Ridge asked.
    “We have six,”
Cruz said.
    “We’re going to
double it. Maybe triple while we’re here.”
    “That would be
good for cash flow,” Cruz said.
    “On that, GW Grand
City MC has investment for you.” I handed him ten grand in an envelope.
    “Shit man.” Cruz
looked at the envelope.
    “We took it to the
table,” Ridge said.
    “It was unanimous.
Use it how you want but if I were you, I’d use some to make sure your guys have
money for their old ladies and kids.”
    “Yeah, this will
go a long way. Thank you. From my table to yours.”
    “Okay, I’ll head
to the garage, you two can get to work on security.” I didn’t need Cruz hanging
around. I needed him to be the Prez, and I needed to see if this Bret, Polk,
and Nero had what it took to get a business off the ground.
    “See you later
brother, let’s see what businesses need protecting around here,” Ridge said,
and the two of them drove off.
    I headed in to see
what I had to work with. I walked into a small reception area with a giant
receptionist. The hairy beast at the desk had a patch that let me know he was
Polk.
    “We’re not open yet,”
Polk said to me.
    “Yeah you are,” I
replied. He looked up to see my leather and patch.
    “Ah, you. I didn’t
know today was the day. I’m trying to fucking set up the God damn computer you
sent.”
    “It is the day.
And it’s easy. Why don’t you get the rest of the crew out here?”
    “Easy. Ugh.” Polk
gave a hard click to the mouse and then yelled. “Nero. Bret! Corporate’s here.”
    “Corporate?” I’d
never been called that before. I hoped this guy was a better mechanic than he
was a receptionist.
    Nero shuffled in first.
He wore a mechanic’s jumper and put out a hand. I remembered what Cruz had told
me. Nero was the kind of brother who would use his fist to stop the bleeding.
That was a good brother to have around. He was almost as big as Polk the
ill-tempered receptionist. His head was covered with a bandana, and his arms
were covered in tats. The guy seemed more welcoming than Polk though. He
extended an arm, and we shook.
    “We got six cars
in here right now. And one bike.”
    “Good start. And I
see your lovely receptionist is a snap with the booking computer.” Polk
growled. I knew the type. It wouldn’t be long, and he’d have it figured out. I
hoped.
    Nero led me back,
and I was impressed. The stations were laid out in a way that made sense. It
was a good sign. I still hadn’t met Bret.
    A pair of legs
under a 1987 Impala let me know that Bret was likely under there.
    “Bret’s not a fan
of talking to people. Meeting people. Well, people in general.”
    “I don’t really
give a shit. I’m here to make sure you make money.”
    “Hear that Bret.
Money.” Nero kicked Bret’s work boot.
    Slowly Bret rolled
out from under the Impala I realized this gunshot-survivor-crackerjack-mechanic
and all around surly Great Wolf mechanic