The Road Devils Motorcycle Club - Trax

Chapter 12

TRAX

Jacob Gentry.

That was Limp Dick's name. I had Code run a check on him and even though I didn't know his last name Code is just that good with computer shit. He gave me the profile he came up with him an hour ago and I already had it memorized.

I was sitting at the bar in the clubhouse slowly nursing my second beer of the night. Normally, I'd be well on my way to being lit, but not tonight. Sophie was going out on that date with Gentry tonight and something just wasn't sitting right with me.

And that was beside the whole fact that she was seeing someone other than me. That pissed me off a whole hell of a fucking lot, but that wasn't it. His past had quite a few sketchy parts to it that didn't add up. He grew up in Denton which was a few towns over. His old man died when Jacob was twelve in a fall down the stairs. Seems the kid was the only witness stating that his father tripped on the way down.

As I said sketchy.

He and his mom bounced around for a few years with him going three separate high schools. After he got his accounting degree at some no-name college he worked at no less than four accounting firms all over Georgia. This asshole moved around a lot and while that ain't any crime, it just struck me as suspicious.

I knew what moving around a lot meant. Hell, I did it myself. Usually, you're running from something or it's because of money. The guy had a halfway decent job so that's had me wondering why. He moved to Angel Valley two years ago with his mother and they rented a house out in Rt. 68. Why does a dude his age live with his mother?

Code couldn't find any job history for her in the last year and before that she always had at least two menial jobs. Yet, everything with the house was in her name. It was rented in her name, the power and water were in her name, and so was the phone. Something wasn't adding up for me. It could have been my jealousy that he was out with my girl, but even Code said something didn't feel right.

I just didn't know what to do so I did nothing...for now. Mace walked up next to me and ordered a beer and a shot from Dutch. "Hey bro," he said looking at me. "Wanna shot too?"

"Naw, I'm good. Taking it easy tonight." Mace was a good guy and our Road Captain. Even though I could be a grouchy son-of-a-bitch a lot, these guys put up with my shit. Mace was built like a tank and always wore his hair in a short military-style crew cut. His whole body was covered in tats except on his face which was covered in a full beard that any woodman would envy. I always figured he loved pain as he had more piercings than anyone I ever knew. They were all over him in his ears, lip, tongue, nose, eyebrow, nipples, and even his dick. He even pulled it out one day to show us saying that the women loved the feel of it. The dude had a bar going through the damn head and something called an Apadravya. I swear it made me queasy just to look at it.

He could make you laugh as easily as he could stick a knife in your gut. He fit right in with the club right from the start.

"That new seat you ordered came in this afternoon. Drop by the shop anytime and we'll put it on for you." Any club member got free repair work at the shop. If they were looking to customize their bike more than an easy change out like Mace's seat, either we charged them or they did it themselves.

Sounds good," he said. "I'll be by Monday sometime. Wanna play a game of pool with us?"

I was about to say sure when I felt a text come in on my phone. "Let me check this and I'll be back there."

Most of the club was here tonight so I had no idea who would be texting me. I pulled the phone out of my cut and was surprised to see that it as Brick. I knew he and Cage, one of the new prospects, did a delivery tonight. I immediately thought something had gone wrong, but if it did why was he texting me?