Page 9 of Snarl (Primal Howlers MC #9)

Lennon

S NARL WRAPPED AN arm around me, pulling me onto the bed. I curled myself around him and kissed his chest. “The other night, at Granny’s when you found out I was a biker, I asked if you rode, and you said you weren’t a fan.”

I nodded. “I remember.”

“Did you mean you weren’t a fan of bikes or bikers, because I’m kind of getting some mixed messages here.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “Meeting you has sort of thrown me for a loop. A pretty big one, actually. I didn’t know you when I said that, and I wouldn’t have said it if I did.”

“Fair enough, but what did you mean at the time?”

“My best friend in the world. Waverly. We were roommates while undergrads at the University of Colorado. And one night, during our sophomore year, we went to what we thought was going to be a frat party. We’d been to a couple of them before.

The guys were always nice, and we never felt unsafe, but this one was different from the very beginning.

First of all, it was further off campus than most other parties, and when we got there, we barely recognized any of the people there.

This didn’t seem to be a college party as much as it was a party with some college students in attendance.

Waverly and I almost left five minutes after arriving and would have if we hadn’t run into Julie Keplinger.

Julie was a mutual friend of ours who insisted we’d be safe that night.

She assured us that her boyfriend Aaron was the guy who was throwing the party and that he’d hired some local bikers to act as security for the night.

No one got in without their approval and they’d break up any kind of trouble right away. ”

Snarl groaned. “Shit.”

I nodded. “We trusted Julie and stayed, and at first things were going pretty well. We danced, had a few drinks, and eventually struck up a conversation with Nathan Fields, a guy I knew from Ecology class. Waverly said she was going into the kitchen to get another drink while I carried on my conversation with Nathan. Eventually, I realized that a half an hour had passed since I’d last seen Waverly, so I headed to the kitchen, but couldn’t find her anywhere.

After searching the house, I went outside to the backyard, and that’s where I found her.

Passed out, half naked, by a woodshed at the back of the property. ”

“Christ,” Snarl whispered.

“Apparently, no one thought to have someone keep an eye on the so-called security guards, because while Nathan and I were talking, two of them managed to roofie Waverly’s drink, get her outside alone, and rape her.”

“Bikers did that to her?”

I nodded.

“I’m so sorry. It’s no wonder I rattled you. Is your friend, okay?”

“Waverly only remembers a few fragments from that night. I can’t help but feel like that’s some sort of blessing, but the whole event messed her up pretty good.

She’s doing well now. Moved to Portland, she’s an amazing physical therapist, and has a positive outlook on life, despite what happened to her.

She’s one hell of a fighter but she still has a hard time sometimes, you know? ”

“Did they catch the guys who assaulted her?” Snarl asked.

“The cops had one of them in custody within thirty-six hours. They were both known felons who rode with the Supreme Riders.”

“The Aryan club?” He scowled. “The guy who threw the party hired Nazi bikers as bouncers for a kegger?”

“It turns out Aaron Short, Julie’s boyfriend, had been dealing drugs for the Supreme Riders for a year and owed them money for a batch he swears was stolen. The party was just a way to make some of that money back while also letting the Supreme Riders victimize whoever they wanted. ”

“Fuckin’ assholes. Did they do time? Did Aaron?”

“Not really. Aaron Short’s parents are loaded, and their lawyer got him off the hook faster than it takes to play eighteen holes of golf with a judge,” I said.

“They didn’t have enough physical evidence on one of them, and the other one, Delbert Fisk, aka: Boneyard, was sentenced to fifteen years in prison, but was released due to overcrowding after serving only three years. ”

“I shouldn’t have left you outside the Saddle Rack all alone, I’m sorry.”

“I’m a big girl, ya know? I can be in public all by myself.”

“Of course you can, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you were my date, and I should have taken better care of you.”

“You know, for a nomad, you sure seem to care a lot about the well-being of virtual strangers.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first there was Granny and now me. You haven’t known Granny for very long and yet you’re there any time she needs you, even if it’s to provide her with a little company. And now, you’re fighting off drunk assholes in the street to defend my honor.”

He chuckled. “You make me sound like a knight.”

“You’re the closest thing to a knight I’ve ever seen, that’s for damn sure.”

“Yeah, well my days on the battlefield are over.”

“You were a medic in the army, right? ”

“That’s right,” Snarl replied softly.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I said, sensing sadness in his voice.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind you asking. Especially after everything you just shared with me. Besides, you’re so easy to talk to, I feel like I can tell you anything.”

“So, you’re not this friendly with everyone, huh?”

“Friendly, yes. Like this,” he said, motioning to our entwined naked bodies, “No.”

“You’re right, you know?” I said. “You can tell me anything. I spend most of my time observing animals and wondering what they’re thinking. It’ll be nice to hear what’s on the mind of the hairy beast currently before me for a change. ”

Snarl laughed. “You sure you want to hear about my life?”

I leaned in and kissed his chest. “Positive.”

He cleared his throat. “Alright, then. I was in the Army for almost seven years. Ten weeks in basic training, another eighteen training as a medic. Three, fifteen-month tours of active duty in Afghanistan, and eleven months in the brig.”

“The brig? Like prison?”

Snarl nodded. “For almost a year, I was a guest of the United States Disciplinary Barracks, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, for violating Article 90 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Willfully disobeying a superior commissioned officer in a time of war.”

“You disobeyed orders? ”

“Goddamned right I did. And five soldiers are alive today because I did. It should have been seven. All seven would be alive if I had acted faster.”

“I don’t understand.” I settled my chin on my hand resting on his chest and met his eyes. “If American military lives were saved because of your actions, why were you sent to prison?”

“Because they were only saved because I directly disobeyed my superior officer, Lt. Snodgrass. He gave specific orders for our unit to sweep and clear a sector I believed to be perfect for an enemy ambush. I tried to explain my position to the lieutenant, but he ordered me to shut my mouth and do as I was told. He said, ‘Solders don’t take orders from nurses,’ and to sweep the assigned area as ordered.

Corporal Chavez was on point with Private Dixon just behind him.

I was ten paces behind Dixon, leading the majority of the team through the sector.

Sure enough, as soon as Chavez and Dixon came into range, they were cut to shreds by enemy sniper fire.

I didn’t hesitate to turn and lead the rest of the team to a retreat back to the rally point.

Lt. Snodgrass was furious. Accusing me of insubordination and dereliction of duty.

He was screaming that Chavez and Dixon were dead because I’d failed to back them up properly, and that he’d personally see to it that I faced charges. ”

I gasped. “I can’t believe you went to jail for protecting your team. ”

“I was sentenced to fifteen months, the maximum sentence for insubordination, but was released early due to the corroborating testimony of my team. All charges were eventually thrown out and Lt. Snodgrass was persuaded to retire early.”

“That doesn’t seem like justice,” I said.

“Oh, it wasn’t,” Snarl said. “But after the military case was closed, I sued the shit out of the Army in civil court for wrongful imprisonment and was awarded four million dollars.”

“You have four million dollars?” I asked, just about choking.

Snarl smiled and shook his head. “I gave most of it to Chavez and Dixon’s families. But I kept a nice nest egg for myself. I work jobs here and there as I travel to make enough money to live on and pay my club dues.”

“Club dues?”

“Every member of an MC has to pay dues. Some clubs pay them monthly. Some do it quarterly, or whatever. Each member pays dues to help pay for the clubhouse, beer and food, guns, protection, whatever it is the club needs to survive and operate as a functioning MC. In return, the club hustles in order for its members to get paid.”

“You mean commits crimes,” I said.

“No, not necessarily. Every club is different. Most own or have stake in legitimate businesses. Auto shops, pizza places, titty bars, the usual. And some deal meth and run whores. Every club has a different way of hustling, but every club hustles. Every real club that is.”

“What do you mean by ‘real’ club?”

Snarl shifted. “It’s like this. There are two types of MCs.

Some are like the Howlers, whose membership is made up of lifers.

Guys who are bikers twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five.

Some are strictly social clubs filled with guys who just wanna talk about and ride motorcycles.

Clubs for veterans, clubs for guys who race.

Hell, they got clubs for Jesus freaks. Dudes who spread the word of God from the seat of a Harley. ”

“I could see Jesus as a biker,” I said.

“He had the look, and he was no stranger to sleeping rough, that’s for sure. ”

I nodded. “If you think about it, the disciples were basically Jesus’s crew. They were the first MC minus the bikes.”

Snarl laughed. “Holy shit, I think you’re on to something.”