Raptor
WHEN WE ARRIVED back at the clubhouse, Slammer was sitting at the bar talking to someone I didn’t recognize.
“Who’s that?” I said to Tank, noticing the familiar patches. “Talking to your old man?”
“Jesus. I think that’s Bastard.”
“He doesn’t look too happy.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Bastard had founded the Gold Vipers and was still running the Mother Chapter in Sacramento. I’d never met him but had heard that he was a pretty fair guy.
Tank and I walked over and introduced ourselves.
“So, you’re Raptor,” said Bastard, shaking my hand. “s**t’s been piling up for you lately, hasn’t it?”
I shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“That’s what I’ve also heard. Doesn’t hurt to have a man like The Judge watching your back, either.”
“I don’t know if he’s watching my back, but he’s certainl
