The Biker's Cherry (Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV 8)

Chapter Four

“Corner pocket,” I tell JB as I line up my shot.

“You never told me what happened with that bitch you picked up last time you were here.”

“Fuck if I know,” I lie. I play it like I was too drunk to remember, but I’m not about to tell him I rubbed one out thinking about Kimber after sending that chick home without touching her. My cell vibrates from my back pocket. “Fuck. I better take this.” It could be the club. I get calls at all fuckin’ hours for stupid shit, but I know better than to ignore any brother of the club’s call.

I look at the screen and see Kimber’s name pop up. What the hell is she calling me on a Friday night for? I hesitate to answer. Wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t Link trying to put me through some type of loyalty test the bastard that he is. Loves to give me hell.

I slide my thumb across the screen. “Yo.”

“Nav,” Kimber whispers with a tone in her voice I don’t like.

I motion to JB to let him know I’m stepping out so I can hear better.

“Nav,” she repeats again, and it sounds as though she’s crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know who else to call. Do you think you can pick me up?”

Fuck. I look up at the full moon. “Are you in trouble or something? I can call Link.”

“No, please don’t call anyone. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have called you. I’ll figure it out.”

Damn she must be in a jam if she’s calling me over her uncle or her mom for that matter. Shit. “Text me the address. I’m on my way.” I’ll deal with whatever is going on with her when I get there and tell Link about it once I know what the hell is going on.

I go back inside Wild Ace’s and a text comes through with her location.

“Let me guess. You gotta ride out?” JB gives me a shake of his head.

“Club business, man. I’ll catch you later. Get another round or two on me.” I slap a twenty in his palm.

“Yeah later, fucker.” He grins.

I pause to text Kimber that I’m on my way.

She’s at a house about twenty minutes away from here in some fancy subdivision where the houses costs more than I’ll earn in my lifetime. Bet she’s with that little rich fucker she’s been dating. Borax or whatever the fuck his name is.

Traffic is light this time of night, so it doesn’t take me the full twenty to pull up to a damn mansion that rivals the White House.

As soon as I park Kimber darts out the front door making a run toward my truck. I unlock the passenger door. She climbs in and jerks the seat belt across her lap.

“You good or do I need to go in there and kick some punk’s ass.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

She bobs her head up and down. “Yup.”

I pull out and start back down the street.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Not really.”

“Kimber?”

“What?” She looks at me with her green eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Where am I taking you?”