Biker's Virgin

I sat down and nodded my thanks. “I need your help,” I said bluntly.

The sheriff regarded me coolly for a minute. Then, he leaned back in his seat. “What is your name?”

“Zack Robinson,” I replied.

“Any relation to John Robinson?”

“He was my father.”

“I see,” the sheriff nodded. “That would make you… the Fallen Angels’ leader.”

“President,” I corrected. “And yes.”

“I didn’t realize Motorcycle clubs worked like a dynasty.”

“They don’t,” I said. “I was elected.”

“You must have done something to impress the men.”

I was growing impatient. I had come here for a specific reason, and the sheriff seemed more interested in prying into my personal business. I knew that I had to be polite and patient, however, if I was going to get their help.

“I did,” I nodded.

The sheriff cocked his head to the side as though he were trying to figure me out with one look. “Your kind don’t usually walk into the station like this.”

“My kind?” I asked, with raised eyebrows.

“The outlaws and rule breakers,” the sheriff replied. “The gangs.”

“We’re not a gang,” I said. “We’re a club.”

“Is there a difference?”

I knew he didn’t like me, and my instinct was to mistrust him too. But I had to stay focused and convince him to give me what I had come here for.

“Someone has been abducted,” I said, ignoring his previous question.

“We decided a long time ago that we were not going to involve ourselves in the affairs of the gangs in this town. You want to work by your own rules, fine, but then you don’t fall under our protection. One of you get shot, it’s not our business. One of you get killed, it’s not our business. One of you get abducted, it’s not our fucking business.”

“Then why are so many of your men in bed with the Knights?” I demanded, as my anger surged to the surface.

The she

riff sat forward. “That’s hearsay.”

“Bullshit,” I shot at him. “It’s true. If it hadn’t been then I wouldn’t have needed to get involved in protecting Mila.”

That got his attention.

“Mila Mikalson,” I said. “She is a civilian… she was under your protection. When this fucker, Walter Black, tried to strangle her to death, she drugged him, got the hell out of his apartment, and came straight here to report the assault. She was questioned by one of your men; she was kept waiting for hours only to be told that Walter Black had disappeared, and nothing could be done about it.

“She was terrified for her life, and because she was desperate she called her brother. She wasn’t even close to him, but he was part of my gang, as you call us, and she felt that if the cops couldn’t help her, then maybe we would.”

The sheriff stared at me for a second. “Who was the cop that spoke to her?”

“Officer Stallone,” I replied.

The sheriff nodded. “How long has the girl been missing?”