Saint:
The drive had been long, but at least it was over. My buddy’s bike was loaded onto the back of my truck, and as we cruised back to the bar, we blasted music, trying to shake off the exhaustion. I wasn't in the mood to deal with anything more, but the night was young, and the bar was still open.
When we finally pulled up to the MC bar, he offered me a beer, and I took it without hesitation. My bar. My damn rules. I was halfway inside when Mac practically stormed out the door, his face pale as a ghost.
"Where the hell is your phone?!" he barked at me before I could take a sip.
I shrugged, running a hand through my hair. "It fell in the truck when I was driving."
Mac wasn’t having it. His eyes were wide, panic flickering across his face.
"Spit it out, Mac!"
He grabbed my arm,
