Let It Ride (Hell's Tribe MC Series) [Book 3]

Chapter 1: I Stole Your Love

Song for this chapter: I Stole Your Love by Kiss

~Mick~

June 5th, 1989

The diner was crowded as I walked in, full of annoying high school kids who had just been let out from their last day. That meant everywhere around town was bound to be packed with these shit heads from now till the end of August and I was not looking forward to it.

I dropped out in junior year for a reason—so I didn't have to deal with these idiots and here they were taking up nearly every booth in the god damn place—but not mine, that shit was claimed property.

I could see the town's star quarterback—Dean something or other, sitting there with his little friends, but as far as I was concerned, that shit was reserved at all times—something he surely knew.

I approached the table and let out a laugh as I looked down at them. They just stared at me with fear and confusion. Dean surely remembered me from when he was a freshman and I was shoving his head down a toilet on initiation day, but he didn't mention that in front of his friends of course.

"This spot is reserved," I said, pointing to the spot on the edge of the table that had my name engraved into the wood.

One of the QB's little friends decided to get brave and let out a scoff. "We were here first, asshole."

I let out a laugh and nodded my head. "That's right," I agreed, kneeling down to his level. I grabbed the collar of his letterman jacket and jerked him forward. "But I'm here now."

The kid only rolled his eyes, which really pissed me off, because he was about 97 pounds and I could crush him with my pinky finger.

I loosened my grip on his collar but didn't break my gaze. "You play wide receiver, right?" I asked the stupid little weasel.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" he fired back.

I smirked, grabbing hold on his right hand. He looked up at me confused at first, until the moment I twisted it and his face turned bright red. "Can you catch without your hand?" I asked, not letting my grip falter for even a second.

"Whoa!" The QB yelled, holding his hands up. "Take a chill pill, Mcpherson."

"Tell your boy to get his ass out of my booth," I demanded.

"Okay! Okay!" he yelped in pain, trying to pull away from my grip.

I let go, and let out a pleased laugh. "Beat it noobs."

The three of them were out of there before I could even say it again and I took my rightful spot as I waited for Bear.

I felt a looming presence standing over the table and when I looked up, it was the manager, Shelia, with a very unhappy look on her face.

"Hey Sheils, looking good," I winked, but she just crossed her hands over her chest. Maybe it was the fact that I was only twenty and she wasn't into becoming a cougar, or maybe it was just that she was a miserable hag, but she didn't even crack a smile.

"How many times have I told you that you don't own the booth, Mcpherson?"

My eyes narrowed as I pointed to my name engraved into the wood of the table. "This seems to say otherwise," I teased.

Sheila placed her hand on her hip. "Only because you carved it in with the butter knife, you damn hooligan."

"Oh don't have a fucking cow, Sheila. I didn't hurt nobody," I defended.

She rolled her eyes. "You're just lucky those boys are too scared and stupid to go to the Sherrif."

I let out a laugh. "For what? It's all just fun and games. Besides, the Sherrif loves me anyway."