It's closing on midnight when we finally get to the Clubhouse. The iron rooted gates open and all the brothers file in, stopping in their parking spaces. I'm last to get in, Falon nice and snug to my back.
I park my V-Rod next to Killer’s red Dyna just as the man jogs down the porch steps.
The cold creeps in on my back when Falon gets off and rushes past Killer without a word.
Most probably to go lay down.
Her stomach has been cramping since the morning. And my guilt of not being able to help her has played on my mind since we got on my bike this morning.
I tried talking to my woman before we left the Inn and again when we stopped for gas but she shut me out.
I didn't understand it. My first thought was maybe someone said something about my trip with a certain girl last night.
But I know my family.
Still didn't explain why she barely spoke ten words to me in the past 16 hours.
“What took you motherfuckers so long.” Killer hits my back and moves on to the others.