Too Wild To Ride (Steel Veins MC Romance, #1) by Adair Rymer Page B

deliberate man who only took calculated risks. With him I'd have the best shot of getting Star to safety.
    He began to speak when the doors were kicked open. All the officers were here, who'd dare just come in without knocking? I didn't bother turning around, I wanted to see Bones' reaction to the intrusion, to see how in control of the club he was. That was a mistake.
    A cane struck the back of my knees, which followed with my swift face plant on the table from a boney old hand wrapped around my neck. I turned my head to the side in time to not shatter my nose but I came hard down on that mahogany.
    I heard Star gasp and the last thing I saw before my vision blanked out was her hands covering her pretty face. All things considered, having her be the last thing I ever saw wasn't a bad way to go.
    “Any of you pencil-dick fucks wanna tell me why the fuck this Steel Vein is still fuckin' breathing?”
    “Been a long time, Roughneck. We were just hearing him out.” Flaco, a short, thin man like his namesake, offered hesitantly.
    No shit . John “Roughneck” Mitchim. The founder of Los Lobos was apparently still alive and well. He'd stepped down almost a decade ago due to health problems then fell off the map. I'd written him off as dead. Men in this line of work didn't tend to live as long as Roughneck had. He was short tempered and had a chip on his shoulder after being kicked out of the Steel Veins back in the seventies.
    John created Los Lobos with the Mexicans because they weren't allowed to join up either. There was a time where all the clubs were pretty racist but a lot has changed since then. Now it's mostly  about being vouched for rather than skin color. Otherwise, my buddy Tee never would've been allowed in. The Aryans were still old world believers though. Fucking tiny-dick, skin heads have always been on the wrong side of history.
    “Let him up. He's our guest. For now.” It was good to see Bones had some balls. “He wants protection in exchange for helping us take down the Steel Veins.”
    “Only good fuckin' Steel Veins a dead fuckin' Steel Vein. We kill em then we rip em out! I don't give two pulls of my withered pecker fer what he says he's gonna do fer us!” Looks like Roughneck survived long enough to completely lose his goddamned mind. Maybe the health problems that forced him to step down were actual insanity.
    “I'm sorry, Bones, I thought you were El Presidente de Los Lobos? Else I wouldn't have come to Santa Fe. I'm sure the Angels wouldn't have minded if I swung by for a visit.” I hoped some prodding would bolster Bones' position. They hated the Angels almost as much as the Veins.
    “John.” Bones' tone finally carried the weight of his position. Calling Roughneck by his birth name like that was a show of dominance.
    “...Fine” Roughneck let me go. I could've stood up anytime I wanted but this was a delicate matter. I needed to be let up. He was old and crooked to one side. His wore his long, straggly hair beneath a worn bandana and let his frayed beard remain wild and unkempt. Hate and habit were the only things that kept Roughneck vertical.
    The room was eggshells. The officers didn't know how to act around Roughneck so they kept their mouths shut and deferred to Bones. I rose and spit out a thick wad of blood and phlegm onto the floor.
    “But he don't need the fuckin' whore fer his jaws to flap.” John's gnarled fingers grabbed Star's hair, jerking her down to his bent level. Star screamed at the abruptness.
    “She's part of the deal.” My words raced his knife, barely halting him from slicing her throat then and there. I looked directly at Bones, no one else. I would only deal with him, further limiting Roughneck's authority.
    Bones held up a hand as his cell rang. He answered. The conversation was brief, then he addressed the room. “Rio's dead. Looks like Poet's telling the truth. Roughneck's right, though. What can she offer us?”
    Roughneck laughed, tugging at the bow that