Breaking Control (Riders of Silence MC 1)

2: Back at It

Hunter

I stepped away from the bike throwing the wrench I had been using into the tool box beside me. I'd been working on Hamlet's bike all day, the fucking idiot tried to outrace a dam train and nearly got himself killed along with crashing his bike... Fucking adrenaline junkie.

I don't care that he got himself in a sling for the past week because it's his bike that shouldn't have been forced to get roughed up. Fucking Hamlet, genius with club work but a fucking idiot for an adrenaline rush.

"Brother, you still at it? I thought I had to stay late tonight but dam." Tatt said walking up to me. "Fuck, I had heard about Hamlet's bike but seeing it is another thing, fucking adrenaline junkie."

Tatt was a tall fucker with mid blond hair and muscular build that was just covered in ink. He owns his own tattoo parlor that is partnered with the club to get money in legally. Which can cause problems since he obsesses over choosing anyone to start working in the shop and takes them apart just to see if they will fuck up his parlor. So right now, it is just him working constantly barley making time between the tattoos and club work.

Which he really needs handle since like all the brothers here must put some time into the club business of security and getting rid of anyone who tries to fuck with us so when he is constantly overworking at the parlor he may start to slip. Don't need him burning out and getting himself hurt.

"Yeah, would break my heart if I had one. You know what church is about tonight?" I asked wiping the grease off my hands walking away from Hamlet's bike and pulling my cut over me. The weight of the leather feeling like home.

"Probably security details coming in, revenue checks and prospects check-ups but I am also assuming we will be going into those rumbles of an upcoming sex trafficker who wants to start pimping. A fucker came into the shop today asking what a pimp tattoo would look like for me to put on him. Nearly shot him right then and there, broke his wrist instead. Now let's fucking go before Prez puts a bullet in us."

I followed Tatt out of the garage towards to our bikes to head to the club house. The garage and parlor are in the middle of the town and were next to each other. As the club didn't want to many civilians coming in out compound we have business away from the clubhouse. civilians can come for parties and that's it.

Our MC, The Riders of Silence, had gone legit about 20 years ago after the Prez had lost his wife and had to parent his two kids by himself. Now the club full operates legally with a garage, tattoo parlor, private security for hire and my favorite basic fighting rings. I'm only allowed in the rings every once in a while, since I fuck everyone up I fight against; not my fault they should train harder. After all there is no better way to handle shit then by breaking someone's bones. Just because we are legit doesn't mean we are perfectly nice, I fight in the ring and that's where I belong; not skipping and holding hands with the elderly to cross the roads. Though we may yell at a prospect to do that.

Twenty minutes later we both pull through the gates up to the club's compound, the lot full with the Harleys of the brothers. We were a good size MC with a large number of brothers; we had fun, fuck shit up and didn't worry about ATF or other federal fuckers coming down on us, at least not anymore. As we walked in people cleared out, as I said I was pulled from the rings so let's just say brothers know to keep clear of me if I am annoyed... and they never know if I am.

We may give Hamlet a lot of shit for being an adrenaline junkie but we all are. I can't sit to long without a fight, too long and I'll snap your hand just to stop the questions and thoughts in my head. And I know there are other brothers that are the same way.