Page 3 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)
THOR
The desert sun blazes overhead, scorching my skin as the wind whips through my hair. Sweat trails down my back, but I barely notice. Freedom has a price, and right now, it’s worth every drop. Raze, our club president, gave me a purpose, and that’s what keeps me pushing forward toward Vegas.
I joined the Heaven’s Rejects' mother chapter at a turning point, when the club needed someone grounded and unshakable. They became my family. That clubhouse was home until it went up in flames, literally. The explosion rocked all our chapters. Vegas, among others, tried to fill the void Upland left behind. But the once-solid bond between Raze and Ace, the Vegas president, had fractured over the last year while our chapter rebuilt. Too many missed calls. Too much silence. So now, I’m heading their way.
Truth is, I’ve felt unmoored for months. With the dust settled and Raze chasing peace, I’ve been struggling to find my place. Calm doesn’t suit men like me—or clubs like ours. That’s probably why I’m out here roasting on his bike while he stays behind in Upland.
As the Vegas skyline looms on the horizon, the sun dips low. The air cools, but something inside me heats up—a simmering anticipation as neon begins to flicker in the distance.
I roll up to the Vegas clubhouse just after dusk. The gate’s hanging open. Unusual. Most clubs keep their perimeters locked down tight. I hesitate, but curiosity wins out. I ride in.
The place is quiet—too quiet. A few bikes are parked outside, and the building looks like any other patched-up hangout. A large banner draped across the front bears the Vegas chapter's emblem, bold and proud. But no music. No chatter. Just silence.
I approach the front door, senses on high alert. Just as I reach for the handle, it swings open with a heavy creak. A hand clamps down on my shoulder, hard and sudden.
I spin, fists ready, only to find myself eye to eye with Ace.
The Vegas president stands tall, shoulders broad, eyes sharp as razors. Suspicion darkens his features.
“Who the hell are you?” he growls, scanning me like he’s looking for a threat.
“Thor. Mother chapter.”
“So, Raze couldn’t be bothered to come himself? Sends some grunt instead. You even an officer?”
I lift my chin and point to the patch stitched on my cut—the symbol of my rank within the chapter.
The proof he needs along with a subtle warning.
“Road captain, eh?”
Raze warned me Ace would test me at every turn. He’d been Vegas’ president since it was formed. Cracking him wouldn’t be easy.
“Might as well come in,” he says gruffly, leading me into the clubhouse.
The inside is dimly lit, the only light coming from the small lamps on the tables and the neon signs on the wall. A few chapter members are scattered around the room, nursing beers and eyeing me warily as I enter.
“Get him a drink,” Ace barks at one of the club girls, who scurries off to the bar. Ace motions for me to follow him to a small table in the corner of the room. We sit across from each other, and he leans in.
“You just making a pit stop, boy?”
“You know why I’m here,” I say, trying to cut through the tension in the air.
“Don’t believe I do,” he shrugs. “We have rules about drop-ins, and your club president knows that. If you’re here on official business, we should have been notified.”
“That's the problem, Ace. We've been trying to notify you for weeks.” I lean forward, matching his intensity. “Calls are not getting answered. Messages ignored. You know how Raze feels about that kind of disrespect.”
The club girl places a whiskey in front of me. I don't touch it. Rule number one when dealing with a chapter that's gone dark: don't drink what you haven't seen poured.
Ace's weathered face cracks into something between a smirk and a snarl. “Disrespect? That’s what you call it?” He takes a long pull from his beer. “Maybe we've been busy handling our own shit. Vegas doesn't run on Upland's schedule.”
The room has grown quieter, I notice. The scattered members have shifted positions, forming a loose circle around us. Not yet threatening, but a message, nonetheless.
“Territory disputes don't pause for courtesy calls,” I counter, watching his reaction carefully. It's a shot in the dark but Raze suspects the Vegas chapter might be pushing boundaries with neighboring clubs and making deals that go against his new vision for the club.
“You're making assumptions, Thor. Dangerous thing to do in another man's house.”
“Then set me straight.” I spread my hands on the table. “What's so important that the mother chapter gets ghosted for months? What's happening in Vegas that Raze shouldn't know about?”
Ace's jaw tightens, a muscle working beneath his weathered skin. The room feels like it's closing in, the air thick with tension and cigarette smoke.
“You got some balls on you, kid.” He leans back, sizing me up like I'm a hand he's not sure how to play. “Maybe that's why Raze sent you instead of coming himself. Always did like to use other people to do his dirty work.”
I keep my face neutral despite the insult to our president. This isn't about defending Raze's honor. It's about figuring out what's rotting in Vegas.
“The way I see it. We're all Heaven's Rejects. One club. Different chapters, same colors.” I tap my cut where our emblem sits. “That means we share information. That means we don't go dark on each other.”
One of Ace's men steps closer, a bull-necked enforcer with knuckles that look like they've seen more faces than a barber. “Watch your mouth, road captain. You ain't in Upland anymore.”
Ace raises a hand, silencing him without looking away from me. “Striker, give us some space.”
The enforcer backs off, but not before giving me a look that promises we're not done.
“You want straight talk? How about we just get to the point? You’re here to see if we’re planning a hostile takeover of your chapter,” Ace says bluntly. “Well, I’ll save you the trouble. We’re not.”
“Then what’s going on here?” I ask, leaning forward. “Why the radio silence from you guys?”
Ace hesitates, then leans back in his chair. “Raze’s decision to go straight. Can’t say I agree with turning our back on the club’s history to play happy family. It might work for your chapter, but the rest of us have deals in places we have to honor.”
“What kind of deals?”
“None that concern you or your chapter, pup.” He takes a drag off his beer. “I think it’s best if you and your club president walk away. We wouldn’t want to soil that new, squeaky clean reputation that prospect of yours bought you, now would we?”
“That so?”
Ace shakes his head, “We didn’t need your chapter before, and we don’t now.”
I lean back in my chair and rub my chin, deep in thought. “Raze feels differently about that.”
“He can take his opinions and shove them up his ass for all I care.”
I can see a flicker of something in Ace’s eye before he quickly masks it. He’s hiding something from me. Whether it’s a plan to take over the mother chapter or something else, I’m determined to find out.
“His opinions are worth more than that. You know it, and I know it.”
“Money is worth more than his word these days. We have things in the works here that can’t be stopped.”
“Like what?”
“Again, none of your concern, pretty boy.” He slides from his chair. The metal legs scrape against the wooden floor with a screech.
I stand too, my movements deliberate and controlled. The other members shift closer, their boots scuffing against the floor like wolves circling prey.
“Everything this chapter does is my concern. You wear our colors. You fly our banner. That makes it Raze's business, which makes it mine.”
Ace's laugh is harsh and bitter, “Your president's gotten soft, Thor. Peace and prosperity bullshit. But out here in the desert, we still remember what it means to be Heaven's Rejects.”
“And what's that supposed to mean?”
“It means we take what we want. We don't ask permission from some reformed biker playing house back in Upland. I think it’s time for you to leave, boy. Tell your president we don’t need his nose poking into our business.”
“I'm not going anywhere until I get answers.”
“You got your answers,” Ace snarls. “Now get the fuck out before we make you.”
Striker, Ace’s enforcer, cracks his knuckles with anticipation, a grin spreading across his face that tells me he's hoping I'll resist. Smart money says I should back down, ride out, and report to Raze. But smart money doesn't know shit about loyalty.
“You don't get it, do you?” Ace steps closer, his breath hot with whiskey and menace. “This isn't a negotiation. This isn't Church where you get a vote. This is me telling you to get the fuck out of my clubhouse before things get ugly.”
I take a slow breath, scanning the room.
Five, no, six members have formed a tight circle around us.
Each one towers over me, which says something considering I’m 6’4”.
Striker's hand drifts to his waistband, where the outline of something heavy disrupts the leather of his cut.
The odds aren't just bad—they're suicidal.
“I'll go. But this conversation isn't over.”
“Oh, I think it is.”
I back toward the door, careful to keep everyone in my line of sight. No sudden movements. No turning my back. The wooden floor creaks beneath my boots as I retreat, the sound impossibly loud in the tense silence.
“Smart choice,” Ace calls after me. “Tell Raze if he wants to know what's happening in Vegas, he can drag his ass out here himself.”
The night air hits me like a relief when I step outside. My bike sits where I left it, untouched but surrounded by their motorcycles. I swing my leg over the seat, the familiar leather offering little comfort as I kick the engine to life.
The rumble echoes off the clubhouse walls as I turn toward the gate. In my mirror, I catch Ace and his crew watching from the doorway, their silhouettes black against the yellow light.
Settling back on my bike, I pull away from the clubhouse and ride into the neon-soaked Vegas night.
The city lights blur past as I navigate through the streets, my mind racing faster than the engine beneath me.
Ace's words echo in my head— money is worth more than Raze's word .
Whatever the Vegas chapter is into, it's big enough to risk breaking away from the mother chapter.
The hotel V had booked for me looms in the distance. The streets are bustling with people. Their colorful clothes and elaborate costumes catch in the flickering lights as I approach my hotel.
I follow the signs until I find a motorcycle spot in the parking garage. Collecting my things, I head inside and check in before heading to my room.
The room, it turns out, is a suite. V apparently didn’t skimp on the accommodations.
A full kitchen sits just off the entrance, and a sitting room lies behind it.
The separate bedroom with an ornate gold king-size bed consumes the left side of the suite.
Depositing my saddlebag onto the bed, I retrieve my phone and call Raze. He answers on the second ring.
“Did you make contact?” I know that tone. It’s the one he uses when things are already halfway to hell.
“I did,” I say, exhaling as I sink into the armchair by the window. The Vegas skyline stretches out below, glittering and indifferent. “Went about as well as you figured. Not great.”
I can practically hear his grimace. The silence on the other end is thick before he speaks again.
“Yeah… I had a feeling,” he mutters. “Ace has never gone radio silent like this. Something’s wrong.”
“It’s more than wrong,” I drag a hand through my hair, tension prickling beneath my skin. “His crew’s neck-deep in something ugly. They’re not just ignoring us—they don’t want our interference at all.”
“You know who they’re in bed with?”
I stand up, restless energy driving me toward the small kitchen.
The refrigerator hums softly as I pull it open for a beer, its cool glass sweating in my grip, “Not yet,” I admit after taking a sip, the bitterness matching my mood.
“Ace was cagey—real tight-lipped about details. Whatever it is, it’s big money.
A deal worth cutting the mother chapter out completely.
“A deal?” Raze echoes.
“Yeah,” I continue, leaning against the counter while my mind sifts through potential players. “That’s all he would say about it.”
Raze is silent for a moment. “Okay, keep digging. See if you can learn more about this deal and who is involved with it. We need to know what we’re up against.”
“I will,” I say, taking a long swig of my beer. “But Raze, I don’t like the feel of this. They’re up to something, and I don’t think it will be good for us.”
“I know,” Raze says grimly. “Just be careful. Ace is a tricky son of a bitch. Watch your six.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promise, hanging up the phone and leaning against the kitchen counter. The Vegas chapter is up to something big, and I’m the only one who can find out what it is. It’s a daunting task, but I won’t back down. I sip my beer, steeling myself for what’s to come.
Whatever’s in store, I’m ready for it.