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One

Tires and Jack

Blade

T he night went on later than it should have. Mom wanted to play games like we did when Jaci and I were kids. We indulge her, and honestly, it’s still a hoot. Jaci sucks at charades, but she’s hysterical because she tries so hard, and we can’t make heads or tails of what she’s trying to get across.

It’s pitch-black on the old road I take back into town. It’s a shortcut, and I need to get some sleep before church tomorrow. Church is our word for a club meeting, and tomorrow’s a big one. Until now, I haven’t been allowed into the meetings. All information was relayed to me mostly through Demon.

I started off working alongside Demon when I first came to the club.

Demon’s amazing. Everyone thinks that he’s a superstar because of his detailing designs and his skill at restoring vintage cars, but he’s so much more than that.

He’s also a rock star who made a comeback after living through his own nightmare.

Demon has his own record label and promotes artists, including Maddie from the Smoking Guns, who just happens to be the wife of another Pride brother, War.

I am in awe of these men. Self-made artists, businessmen, and brothers, they’ve got it all together.

When Guard approached me to become a prospect, I considered myself the luckiest man on earth.

I worked in their garage and hung out with them, but never did I imagine being part of their crew.

But Guard has a way of knowing what’s going on deep inside a man, and I was no different.

Everything was good in my life, but I kept feeling like something was missing.

I made excellent money at the garage. The club pays their staff well, and I had no complaints.

I had a nice apartment in town, even though I live at the compound now.

I decided to keep my place for days when I wanted to be alone.

One day, Guard asked if I could ride a motorcycle.

I have two of my own but never rode them into work.

I didn’t want the Pride brothers to feel obligated to invite me to ride with them.

That first ride together changed the course of my life.

It was just me and Guard. We rode for hours until he pulled off the main road and onto a rugged path that led to a beautiful lake surrounded by trees.

You’d never know the lake is there. I still remember the feeling of serenity that came over me.

Guard and I spoke for hours about everything and anything.

Then he said, “It’s not how others see you that matters. It’s how you see yourself.”

He knew that I felt “less than,” and I didn’t even understand why.

My parents are great and continue to support me in most of my decisions.

Yet, Guard’s right: I felt like I wasn’t quite enough.

Guard was wise and read me right down to my soul.

“You’re measuring yourself by physical accomplishments.

You’re more than a great mechanic, and I think you need to be around men who have been at the same crossroads before you.

I’ll only ask once, and if you feel this is for you, then you come into my office and tell me so.

If not, no harm done. I’m inviting you to join the Pride. ”

Guard told me to think on this overnight, but I already knew my answer.

Of course, I agreed. Since the day I decided to prospect, the men have shared their stories, and I discovered I’m not the only one with demons to conquer.

That’s the beauty of the Pride: we’re never alone.

A brother will always be there to lean on.

Focused on the road, I see ahead of me a car pulled over to the side. As I get closer, a woman opens the trunk and rifles through it. It’s late, and a woman shouldn’t be stuck out in the middle of the road on her own. Then again, I might scare the shit out of her if I stop too close.

I allow some space between us when I stop my motorcycle and take off my helmet. She hasn’t even heard me pull up.

“Ma’am!” I call out to her. Nothing. Yet she’s swearing under her breath, tugging on what looks to be a spare tire, trying to get it out of the trunk.

I climb off my bike and approach her slowly.

“Yo, miss, do you need a hand with that?” Still nothing.

Then I notice she has her EarPods in. I tap her shoulder, and she lets out a screech.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she pants. She clutches her chest, takes the earbuds out, and pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. She’s fucking adorable with her heart-shaped face and perfect bow lips.

I chuckle. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Actually, I called out to you several times.” I look down at her tire to see the flat. “I can help you with that, if you like.”

“You’re not some psycho mass murderer, are you?” she asks, squinting and reaching for the tire iron.

I lift my hands. “I just want to help. You can keep holding the tire iron if it makes you feel better while I get the spare on for you.” I can’t help but smile at her stern expression, furrowed brow, and the way she clutches the rod tightly in her hand.

I can disarm her in seconds, but there’s no need to tell her that.

She bites her lower lip and steps to the side. “I think it’s stuck,” she says, pointing to the partially uncovered tire. The rest of her trunk is packed with boxes, cameras, and equipment. I can see that she’s attempting to move things out of the way to get to the spare.

“My name’s Blade, by the way,” I tell her. I lift one of the bigger boxes out of the car and set it on the gravel.

“I’m Emryn,” she replies quietly.

I turn my head to look at her. “Nice to meet ya, Emryn.” Lo and behold, I get my first smile out of Emryn.

Christ! She’s a beauty. She looks like an angel, if you ignore the tire iron in her hand, which she’s already dropped to her side.

I turn on my phone flashlight and take a look at her spare.

The tire is bald and won’t get her very far.

It’s ridiculous to even waste time putting it on.

“Babe, you can’t use this tire. It’s bald. You’re going to end up in a ditch.”

Emryn peers around me, and I show her the extent of the problem. “That’s just great,” she huffs. “I can’t leave my stuff out here. This equipment is my bread and butter.”

I lean my ass on the edge of the open trunk. “What do you do?”

“I’m a photographer. It’s taken me years to afford the best cameras,” she answers, taking out her phone. “You wouldn’t happen to know a reputable tow truck driver, would you?”

“I’m a mechanic in town. I can get it towed to the shop and put a new tire on it tomorrow. Give me a sec and I’ll get our tow truck driver over here to pick it up.”

“That’s great! I’d appreciate it.” This earns me another smile. I make the call, and Clutch picks up.

“Yo, bro, this better be good,” Clutch says sleepily.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We have a lady in distress.”

“Huh?” Obviously, he’s still in a haze.

I give him our location. “Emryn needs her car towed to the shop. I’ll fix it tomorrow,” I tell him.

“Right. On my way.” He’s groggy and grumpy, but I know my Pride brother will be here soon.

“He’s on his way,” I say, looking at Emryn.

“Do you think he can drop me off at my place? I’m not far from the shop. Just two blocks over.” Then she quickly says, “Oh, never mind, I can just walk it.”

The thought of Emryn walking in the middle of the night down the dark street causes a pang in my gut.

“No way, babe. I’ll take you home.” I trust Clutch with my life, but there’s no chance I’m going to let him take Emryn home.

Emryn shivers. It’s late October, and all she has on over her shirt is a thin blue cardigan.

“Get in the car and stay warm. It won’t take long for Clutch to get here. ”

While we wait, I put the box back into her trunk and shut it, then walk back to my bike. I always keep an extra sweater in my tail bag. I bring it over to her.

“It’ll keep you warm,” I tell her.

“You’re being very sweet,” she says.

“That’s me! I’m sweet,” I tease.

Just then, Clutch pulls up beside me and glances between me and Emryn. “Brother, you’re a lucky guy,” he says, shaking his head before putting the tow truck in place and hooking up her car. Emryn stands by the driver’s side of the truck, waiting. I hand Clutch the keys to my bike.

“Make sure it gets back to the compound safe,” I tell him.

He raises his brows and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’ve never let anyone ride your hog before.” He glances at Emryn. “Unbelievable.”

“Treat my bike with respect, bro,” I warn him. He’s correct; I’ve never let anyone on my ride, but if it means a few extra minutes with Emryn, I’ll risk it. He snatches the keys out of my hand.

“See ya back at the club.” Clutch moves fast, probably worried that I’ll change my mind about letting him ride my newly restored Harley that cost me a small fortune, but I’m too busy opening the door and helping Emryn into the warm truck.

It’s not a long drive into town, and with Emryn’s directions, I decide to drop her off at her house first. “Do you need anything from the trunk?” I ask as I pull up to her small cottage.

She shakes her head. “Not for tomorrow, but I have some photo shoots next week. Do you think I can get my car on Monday?” Seeing that it’s late Saturday night, correction, early Sunday morning, when I look down at my watch, I’m also thinking the best I can manage is Monday.

I already know the bay is full of cars that need my attention, but I nod anyway. “You’ll have it Monday afternoon.” I’ll go in Sunday and get the wheel changed for her and give her car a once-over. I don’t want her driving around in an unsafe vehicle.

“Thanks, Blade,” she says shyly, and her cheeks tinge pink. “I have a confession to make.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been terrified of running into a biker. I know your club is cool and all. Everyone in town says nothing but good things, but I also know there are bikers who terrorize people. I’m glad it was you who stopped to help me tonight.”

Emryn’s smart to be cautious. There is good and bad in every walk of life, and bikers tend to be notorious for their illegal activities.

The Pride isn’t about that. Guard’s vision was to create a brotherhood where we’re all working together to better our place in life, including our community.

It hasn’t always been easy, and we’ve had some nasty situations come up, but we’re still standing tall.

“Once you get to know us, babe, you’ll see we don’t bite. Unless you ask us to, that is,” I tease.

She giggles, then hops out of the truck. “See you Monday,” she says, waving goodbye.

“Thank God for flat tires and rusty jacks,” I mumble under my breath.