Blood on the Asphalt bikers

closed since I was twelve. The building's red brick had faded to the color of dried blood, and the sign out

elt like

s open, and I'd thrown myself into work, trying to lose myself in the familiar comfort of engines and grease. Old man Patterson's

ind. The only thing that made sense in a

ore immigrating to the States, and he'd taught me everything he knew. How to listen to an engine's heartbeat. How

me was how to deal w

r had commissioned an entire fleet of custom choppers for the club's twentieth anniversary. Dad had poured everything into tha

spread word throughout the biker community that Chen Wei was unreliable, that his work

ing. I found him in his garage, slumped over a parti

through community college, when I became

dn't need to look up to know who it was. That particular d

ron W

their chrome gleaming in the noon sun. Dax Steele rode at the front, his Harley customized with detai

ather vest over a black t-shirt, his club patches prominently displayed, Vice President.

the club's enforcer, built like his namesake. Reaper, the road captain, covered in tatt

t wasn't a greeting. It

" I replied. "This i

rning." Dax pulled off his gloves. "He's a s

my chest. "You

d closer, and I forced myself not to retreat. "We

need yo

and dollars

ure somet

what, sixty hours now? Face it, Mia. You're screwed. Snake doesn't forgive debts,

ew what Snake had done. The

n make your problem disappear. All of it. Th

tended. "Why would you help me? Your club des

." He pulled out a cigarette, then seemed to think better of it and put it away. "But what i

you're

it was art." Dax's voice dropped lower. "My old man didn't refuse to pay b

ed to tilt sli

y. They had dirt on Dutch, on the club. They gave him a choice, bankrupt Chen Wei and d

believe it. "That's convenient

. Text messages between my father and the Death Dealers'

me. "If you have proof, why hav

t what he did. Because the Death Dealers are still out there, still powerful, still dangerous." Dax

tably. There was a story there, someth

have to do with my de

er on yours. They knew Ghost Rider was you, Mia. They've known for weeks." Dax stepped closer still, close enough that I could smell leather

age fo

een investigating. They know I'm close to having enough proof to

nse. Why would you ca

my brother's life once. Because Dutch's actions got a good man killed. Because I'm trying to fix the mistakes my family made,

me for

ll be there, including the Death Dealers." Dax pulled a folded paper from his vest pocket and held it out. "I want you to race for the Iron Wolves. You win, an

it. "You want me to join your club?

le who actually destroyed your father,"

st you? Just believe that eve

o my clubhouse tonight. Look at the evidence yourself. Talk to peop

f I sa

ifty grand or disappear." His voice was matter-of-fa

the hood of Patterson's Ford

He paused. "Why now? Why wait

nd for just a moment, I saw somethin

id to your father was justified somehow, that the club came first." He swung his leg over his Harley. "Then I learned the tru

a. Iron Wolves clubhouse on Route Forty-Seven. Come a

n an empty parking lot with grease-stained

per Dax had left b

ng beside a teenage boy in a hospital bed. The boy's leg was in a cas

fixed my bike after my crash and refused payment. Said fam

o'd died two years ago in a motorcycle ac

as I tucked the phot

ele was telli

ust another lie in

w I'd be at that