Gypsy's Sin [Wind Riders MC]

Chapter Fourteen

Gypsy was on his porch when Cyn's motor raced down the road to her drive. Less than ten minutes later, her motor raced back toward town.

"A clearing," he mused.

Close to three-thirty he was ready to go check out one clearing in particular. It wasn't far, maybe little more than a mile North. Maybe he would pull the thumper out of the garage and take it for a little spin. It was time to take it out anyway. And maybe he was feeling a little reminiscent.

But his plans were interrupted by the sound of three Harley engines coming up the road, but slowing down as they came up to his access road. He watched them from his rocker as they came closer, and recognized them as soon as they were into the yard area. Rick Walker, Randy Thorn, and Boston, which now that Gypsy thought about it, was the only name he had for Boston  .

Rick, a wiry, leather skinned man, whose muscles were well defined and worked hard nearly every day of his life, ran a hand through his light brown hair and looked up at the sun, before climbing the steps to Gypsy's porch and coming through screen door.

Rick was one of Knight's trusted, and trusted enough to be already on the list of men who were going to help in a couple of weeks, with the heist of a great deal of cocaine. Though Rick wasn't aware of this yet.

"Rick," Gypsy said as he came across the threshold.

Rick wasn't expecting him on the porch and his easy manner turned feral in an instant, but just as quickly turned easy again. "Gypsy. Good day to be outside."

"There's beer in the fridge if you want one," Gypsy offered.

"Don't mind if I do, want one for yourself?"

Gypsy lifted his and gave it a shake, "Yeah, I guess so, if you don't mind."

"I'll be there getting your beer for myself and two others. I guess I don't mind getting one of your own for you."

Gypsy nodded to the well-worn humor, and watched Boston come up the steps. Boston was at least 300 pounds. A lot of weight, most of it fat. A good humored man most of the time, and a man you could normally count on to be thoughtful and slow to act. Boston, as it happened, was looking thoughtful now.

"Boston," Gypsy greeted him.

Boston nodded his head and looked around.

"Rick's in the house, getting beers."

"Nice. Thanks."

"No worries."

Last in, as would be custom for prospects, letting the members enter a place first, was Randy. Randy Thorn. Brown straight hair that always seemed just barely on the dry side of damp. He had a smooth, strong James Dean kind of look to him, maybe thinner in the cheeks though. Loose talk suggested he bedded pussy as fast as it was thrown to him, and had little scruples about it; older, younger, spoken for, if it gave him a wink, he didn't care about any of the rest. He was taller than the other two, but not as tall as Gypsy, and had solid bar-bell gym muscles across his chest and shoulders, and in his thighs.

Gypsy once asked Cyn's opinion of Randy's looks, and she gave him an approving nod, "Yeah, he's good looking, well, until James Rath comes through the door. Then you remember what good looking really means."

Gypsy took pride in his powers of observation. As Rick came out with four beers, and passed them around, he tuned his mind into figuring this visit out. All three of them were up at the club a little while ago. Knight got the statement. All three of them were in attendance last night, so one or all were probably briefed right away.