BREN
I had no plan. I just knew that when Jordan pulled up outside The Twister Sister, I needed to talk to my dad. Ignoring the entire row of Harleys backed up and parked in front of the door, I headed inside. A few bikers were at the door. I recognized the cut and emblem of the Red Demons. Two had the word ‘prospect’ across the back of their cut. All of them stopped, skimming me over, but I walked past.
They didn’t stop me, or Cross and Jordan.
One of the guys was pulling out a phone just as I stepped inside and waited for my eyes to adjust.
The inside was a stark contrast from the sunny outside.
The music in the background was at a soft lull. It wasn’t overbearing, and neither was the smoke. The smell of stale booze lined with a faint trace of sweat and dust. As my eyes adjusted, I
