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An emergency session of church was called for the following day.
I checked in with Flats. He was in the yard circling a tow truck that looked as old as Keystone. I thumbed off my Sportster and said, "What the hell is that?"
Flats looked at me like I was daffy. "71 Ford tow truck. What else does it look like?"
"Does it work?"
He grunted. "Needs a bit of work, but not much. Leaks oil like a busted supertanker."
"Cheap?"
His face lit up. "Seven fifty."
"Is that good?"
He cackled.
I sat at my desk. It was another metal thing that looked like what the club used. I checked messages: only one voicemail, an inquiry about a part we couldn't possibly have yet.
Flats leaned in the doorway and wiped his hands on a rag.
I said, "When are your cutting tools and torches supposed to be here?"
He shrugged. "A week, maybe. Can't do much until then. I'm going to run this over to the clubhouse and see if the guys in the shop will fix her up."
I nodded. There was little point to being here if there was no work to be done yet. I phoned the caller back and informed him the business hadn't opened yet, but to keep us in mind the next month.
I looked into the bay. Flats had managed some spare shelves and bits and pieces of product and supplies were on them. Then I took a walk over to the building at the side and back. It was a goodly sized warehouse with broken windows at the top in four places. I wasn't sure if we could use all of the steel shelving. Much of it looked like it was made for tires.
I returned to my desk and plugged in my laptop. I scanned a couple of sites for used auto parts and made a list of the things we would want to chop from a vehicle. I jotted the same list on another piece and went and taped it to the shelving in the bay. Flats would see it and understand.
I checked my schedule: alarms and lights going in tomorrow. With nothing else to be accomplished, I mounted up and rode out. I kept an eye out for Surenos, but I didn't expect them to be back for a while. The last time we had roughed them up, it had been a couple months before we saw them again. Although I felt we had another reprieve, I didn't think they were going to take the hint – not with having gone so far as to take Firehose and send their own message.
I stopped in at the Daily Dollar. No Harleys were out front. My watch showed just a little past open. I walked in.
Tequila grinned from behind the bar. "I thought I heard your limp."
"My what?" I was incensed.
"Really."
"Is it that bad?" I tried not to limp.
She rolled her eyes with a playful smile. "It could only be worse if you had a peg-leg."
I made a goofy face at her and gave my best pirate imitation. "Arr..."
She laughed.
"So where's Gripper?"
She shifted her head to the side as if the answer didn't matter. "Some closed-door meetings going on amongst the officers. He'll be here later." She looked at the door. "Why don't you come on over to this side? I don't think anyone will be here anytime soon."
I gave her a suspicious look.
"Stand by me."
I went behind the bar and leaned my back against it. "What do you want?" I drew it out sarcastically, but my smile told her I didn't mean it.
She gripped my jeans and rubbed. "I don't know. I don't have a bouncer to check you out. What are you packing in here? Something fun?"
I chuckled. "I better never find Gripper in your position."
She laughed, short and sharp. Her fingers worked at my zipper then slid inside.
I wondered if I should stop her, but the graze of her fingers across my dick felt fun.
"Oh... no underwear, huh?"
"I don't like the way it bunches up and pinches when I ride."
"Most don't." She got her hand in and gripped me. She tugged slowly, drawing it out of my jeans. She was smiling up at me, her heavy mascara accentuating her gothic sexiness.
"So how did you get your name, anyway? I imagine it's not Tequila?"
She giggled. "Nope. Ramona. Ramona Knox. Dean kept telling me—"
"Dean? Big Pizza?"
She nodded. "He kept telling me not to ask for tequila when I started hanging around with him at the clubhouse. I guess the guys in the Iron Crows don't like it. But that was my favorite drink. So I asked, and kept asking. I figured, why not?"
"Oh? Did you finally get some?"
She made a regretful face at me. "Sure wish I hadn't. They finally handed me off a drink one night and said it was tequila. It was, but mixed with vodka. I puked so bad I thought my stomach came out." Her hand had me hard and was stroking slowly, tugging on me in a wonderful way.
My cock was fully stretched and straining, flexing in her hand. I leaned back a little more and felt the sweet tension in my thighs complimenting her hand motions. I sighed happily.
She murmured, "You sure have a nice one. I'll have to kiss Kristy for this."
"Huh?"
"Remember, she told me I could be with you whenever..."
I scrunched my lips to the side. "I don't know; we had a talk last night."
She moved her hand faster, pulling at my shaft and my excitement. "Oh?"
"I think she regrets all the extra-curriculars."
Her hand stopped instantly. "Aw..." Her hand moved again. "Then I guess I'll have to apologize to her instead."
I closed my eyes. Her hand felt fantastic. Each pull drew on my desire and my shaft responded with throbs. I might not have ever thought getting a handjob behind a bar was anything to add to my mental wish list, but what was happening right here held me as surely as chains. I arched my back a little more, feeling the tension increase.
"You're liking this?"
"Mm yep." After I said it, I began to pant. My shaft felt so swollen and full. Each pull yanked on me in a way I felt all the way down to my feet. I began groaning.
She moved and I opened my eyes. She had grabbed a small towel. "Come on, Stiff. Give it to me." Her eyes had that smoky look to them and I could tell she was turned on, too.
Cum? In a bar? The door's open. Her tugs yanked away my fears. She was going to make me cum no matter what I thought. And sure enough, I felt the tickle down in my feet. Tingles and tension raced up my legs and back. My cock swelled in her hand and tightened. My mouth opened and I growled that final tipping point of release.
Her other hand held the towel to the helmet of my shaft and she milked my orgasm into the cloth.
I trembled, jerking, and felt the burn in my thighs of the muscles being taut too long. I sagged against the bar as my knees buckled.
A rumble outside alerted us.
She smiled wickedly at me. "Just in time, I guess." She squeezed me off and put the towel in the sink. "You better put that away."
I moved quickly for the bathroom with my dick sticking straight out. But I made it in plenty of time. I washed my face and hands and then stuffed my cock back inside my jeans.
I came out, wiping my wet hands on my pants.
Gripper was out there, hands on the bar and leaning. He looked over at me. "Dealer's got something special for you and me."
"Oh?"
"We're going to be taking a run into the city tomorrow."
"Don't we have church—"
"We'll be back by then, hopefully. It all revolves around what we find out."
I stuck my elbow on the bar and looked at the big man. "What's he going to have us do?"
"Ask for a meet with the Surenos."
I stood, stunned. "A... meet?"
He grunted. "Some shit, huh? But I'm betting it's not what you think."
"What do you think it is?"
He grinned at me and his arms flexed. "Our opportunity to strike at their leader."
I nodded. "Cut them off at the head?"
"Yeah, it might work. Depends how organized they are. By all accounts from the Bandidos, not very."
I asked, "Are we big enough to handle this?"
Gripper nodded, very slow, very slight.