The Wild Hunt

Part 2, Blood and Bone

 The next day started the same as most others, I woke up with the sunrise and headed out for a ride. I cleared away all the cobwebs that needed to and headed back towards town. Scout was waiting for me as he was most mornings and together we headed towards the Club house. On our way my phone rang, it was Michael.

"Listen, I need you and scout to watch the town borders, any stragglers come through you bring them to me, but if you see any large numbers I want you to haul ass back here. We gotta be ready should trouble come knocking."

Even if Michael wasn't my Alpha I still would have followed him, I hadn't know him very long, but I trusted he knew what was best for the pack. I told him we would do as he had asked and with Scout on my six o'clock we headed back out to the edges of town.

We headed up the 100, past Riverbank cemetery, waited there for a while then, turned around. After that it was up the 108 on the Mountain road but not before stopping off for gas. The Iron was a fun ride but the tank was small, I kept telling myself I should talk Michael into teaching me how to do a tank conversion, change it out for something larger, that or get myself a Fat boy or a Dyna. Though they were both better suited to club life than the sportster, I just couldn't bring myself to get rid of the Iron.

The day faded and quickly gave way to the evening as the sun set over the hills. As were were thinking about calling Michael and asking whether we should call it a day, Scout's ears caught the faint sound of an engine. Lucky for us it was just the one. We turned our bikes to block the road, Scout got off of his and made it look like it was messing with his engine. I kicked out the stand of mine and sat side saddle on the seat. The bike came to a stop a bout 15 feet away from us, its headlight obscuring the rider until it was turned off. The rider dismounted the bike which I could now see was a dark purple Dyna. Its bars had been raised but not so much that you could call them apes. The rider wore a full face helmet and took a few steps towards us before removing it. Crimson red curls fell around the riders shoulders revealing a beautiful woman, the way she moved confirmed that she was like us, but there was obviously no challenge in the way she approached. The closer she got the more I could make out. She wore skinny black jeans that hugged her body tight and an old school leather jacket that sipped at the side. She obviously wasn't wearing any make up but her lips were almost as dark as the red in her hair. As she reached us she smiled, and I blushed realizing I had just been caught staring.

"There a reason you boys are blocking my way?" she said in a soft southern accent.

My heart skipped several beats and before I could find words for a reply Scout stepped in.

"Who are you calling Boys?"

Scout was originally from south Boston before his folks moved them to Harlem and his accent was very thick and sometimes gave the impression that he wasn't too smart, which in my opinion was far from the truth. I held my hand up to tell him to hold his horses and stood up from my bike, my composure regained.

"So you the one in charge sugar?" she asked winking at scout and taking another step in my direction.

"No, I'm Marcus."

"Bonnie." She said holding a hand out in my direction with an air of confidence I had rarely seen in a lone wolf.

Trying to contain a grin I shook her hand.

"Michael is the one who calls the shots, mount up and follow us, we'll take you to him."

Bonnie did as asked, and we headed towards town.

It was around 7:45pm when we arrived at the Club house, most of the regulars were already drinking and there was a George straight song playing loudly. Scout was a sucker for some old school country and sang.