Scars and Wolf left the clubhouse, barely glancing at their former brothers who were standing around, but their every sense, every nerve-ending, every fibre were all straining, prickling, alert and pumped to the max full of adrenalin. If they heard so much as a ‘click’ – even if it turned out to be a goddamn pen – they’d pull first and ask questions later.
Nothing happened, though, and they hit the parking lot without an issue. They got on their bikes without a word, peeled out and away. Scars knew that Wolf had plenty to say, though, and so he wasn’t surprised when Wolf pulled over at Dangerous Curves, killed the engine.
Scars parked next to his Prez, removed his helmet. “You need a beer, man?”
“Nah.” Wolf shook his head, flattened his hair. “Just wanted a second to talk to you before
