Free Highway to Heaven by Harley McRide Page A

eyes. With their walls now covered in
blood and brains, she was a little more excited about the temporary
move. Of course, the guys had been called to do a thorough clean up
and made the bodies disappear before the cops came out to
investigate the overheard gunshots, but left empty handed.
    With the clubhouse overflowing and the
outside cabins at max capacity, there were enough members around to
keep their security airtight. “Not even the cockroaches that climb
out of their disgusting pockets can get close now. My ol’ lady has
enough firepower stashed around to take on the Army. Chev went
shopping over at Jacks. You know the shit he smuggles in.” Chief
grinned, still boasting over the shot Chevy had made when the
fuckers broke in their house. “She’ll split wigs and spit on their
bodies.”
    Zeus, the big brawny bastard, who had a bald
head, broad shoulders, and enough tats to fund the local tattoo
artist with a new house, laughed. The scar that ran up the side of
his head he’d gotten from a hatchet in a bad brawl only added to
his lethal appearance. He was as rough and tough looking as they
came, but underneath had a sense of humor and was as soft as the
center of a tootsie pop. When it came to the girls, he’d plow over
the priest to keep them safe. The few hours they’d been at the
club, he’d been on them like flies on shit. He knew where each of
the girls were at all times and had literally been kicked out of
the bathroom more than once. His response, “I don’t care if you are
popping a squat to take a leak or droppin’ a deuce. Ain’t no one
gonna catch you with your pants down on my watch.” Sweet, but a bit
over the top. The girls took it with a grain of salt and laughed,
giving their appreciation with a giggle.
    The Ops had offered some of their other
chapters as assistance while the group was gone to Mexico. With
Nomads from both clubs all housed in the area until Reyes was taken
out, there wasn’t much even a mob of Diablos could do now. “Give me
that baby. You need to go take a hot bath and relax, mamacita .” Charro, one of the Nomads for the Savages who
obviously was of Mexican heritage, but only half, with his mother
being a full blooded Cherokee Indian, cooed. Charro wore a black
Stetson cowboy hat and big shiny belt buckle with his jeans and
boots instead of the norm rocker look. Many had made the mistake of
misjudging him and fell prey to the hatchet through their skull. He
might have the name, but he embraced his inner Indian. He’d been
caught with a few negative comments since the Diablos had walked in
the picture, but they hadn’t walked away.
    Rose looked at him in shock and shook her
head. He reeked of danger…and despite the sweet offer of wanting
her to entrust her daughter in his care? No way. “That’s very
sweet, but I—”
    “You are going to take a bath. I have six
brothers and sisters, and all but one is older than me. I’ve
changed diapers and made bottles most of my life. Now, get your ass
upstairs. You look like hell.” Charro didn’t wait for an answer. He
reached over and took Harley out of her arms, his face suddenly
softening the moment he looked at her. “Hey, beautiful,” he hummed.
That deep voice had become soothing and calming. Harley watched him
carefully, her little bright eyes intoxicated with him. Rose stood
in awe. She watched them, transfixed until he turned back to
her.
    “Mommy needs to go get her ass in the tub
before I call Prez and tell him to punish her when he gets home,”
he said in an uncharacteristically sweet coo. If not for the
intensity in his eyes, she’d have laughed it off. With a huff, she
turned and walked off, still in shock. Well, there was no doubts
left about Harley being looked after properly. She smiled all the
way up the stairs at the thought.

Chapter Eight
     
     
    Gage stormed to his bike, relieved to get the
hell away for some time to think. They’d found an abandon building
not two blocks away from where the