Ride or Die Motorcycle Club Romance M/M

Growing up in the deep countryside of southern Texas, Mason Briggs and his gang knew they were meant for something bigger. That was why they started a club at the young age of twelve, with Mason as the leader. They called it Play or Die. As they grew older, it evolved into Ride or Die.

Mason and Jesse’s parents were rich, but always busy. Their mother was a socialite who drank heavily and eventually paid for it with liver failure and an early grave. Their father died of a heart attack, the result of an obsession with never sleeping and living off cheeseburgers—a deadly combination for the heart, they learned.

Mason was only twenty-one when he inherited the family fortune and found himself raising his sixteen-year-old brother. Jesse was devastated, even if their parents had never shown them the kind of love and affection most children received.

The property management company Mason was thrown into owning and operating was run with the help of family members and fellow members of the Ride or Die Motorcycle Club. Many of them rented apartments from him at discounted rates as one of the club’s perks. He technically owned two buildings on either side of town. Those under him handled maintenance of the places, made sure tenants paid their rent, and even dealt with squatters when necessary. It was a well oiled machine once Mason took over and began to spend the money back into the buildings to upgrade them, while still charging affordable rent.

Briggs Property Management also served as the perfect cover for the club’s small smuggling operation—moving people, moving money. They were considered an outlaw biker gang, though they followed more of a Robin Hood philosophy. They stole from the rich and powerful, or made them pay however they saw fit. Cross the gang—or someone they cared about—and you’ll pay one way or another.

The first major purchase Mason made after inheriting the family fortune was two brand new Harleys, one for him, and one for Jesse. It was what promted everything.

He was a teenager riding on the back of a friend’s beat-up Beemer, when he knew he’d need one of his own.

The freedom. The wind whipping through his hair. The feeling of complete control once he finally owned a bike of his own. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and it quickly became an obsession he knew would last a lifetime.

The Ride or Die Motorcycle Club had been his vision all those years ago as well, and his heart felt almost full seeing it all come to fruition in recent years.

After years of research and with the help of his inheritance, he had finally found the perfect place to make their dream a reality.

An old church.

Location was everything, and this one couldn’t have been more perfect. It was a former Lutheran church that had been abandoned after its pastor was exposed as a serial child predator who had abused children for over twenty years.

Luck seemed to be on Mason’s side. Just around the corner sat the perfect biker bar, which the club quickly claimed as their turf once they owned the church.

Jesse had jokingly started calling Mason “Pastor,” but the nickname stuck. It became the first of many road names the members of the club would earn over the years.

Riley Diaz, aka Hoops, had been their first real childhood friend. His parents worked as the groundskeepers and gardeners on the Briggs estate, and Riley had bonded with Mason and Jesse almost immediately. They’d been inseparable ever since. With Mason and Jesse looking out for him no matter what, just like brothers.

Ryker (“Strike”) and Kyle (“Mr. Rodgers”) had been elementary classmates who, one way or another, found themselves joining the crew. The five of them had shared so many adventures that they couldn’t remember half of them anymore. The memories that remained were always the most chaotic. And the fact that they had been there together through all the thick and thin.

Like the time they glued the class bully, Gill Yerling, to a toilet seat in the girls’ bathroom.

Not only did it prove to everyone that he really had been sneaking into the girls’ bathroom to take his daily dump, but it also taught him that picking on kids smaller than you came with sticky consequences.

Jesse had been one of those picked-on kids, though not for long once Mason caught wind of it.

It was because of this that Mason promised himself whatever kind of club they built, it would stand for fairness and doing good.

Well... what Mason considered fairness and doing good.

Maybe that didn’t always line up with what the law considered right, but that didn’t matter to them. The five of them were brothers, and they would ride or die for one another.

That was exactly why they knew it was the perfect name.

Ride or Die.

It represented exactly the kind of members they wanted.

Be a good person.

Ride or die for your brothers.

Ride or die for your Church.

In many ways, it was as much a religion as it was a gang. They had rules. A code. Regular meetings. Traditions.

They made it a point to help their community while taking from those who didn’t need what they had. People who hoarded wealth and power while everyone else struggled. People who legally used the system to enrich themselves by taking advantage of others. Mason despised jerks like that.

Their goal was simple.

Make Poppler County the best damn county in the state of Texas.

Especially if it meant finally getting rid of the corrupt mayor Kline, whose lies and corruption somehow continued to keep him in office.

He was one of those people Mason hated the most. The kind of person who used power for his own benefit and smiled while everyone else suffered. Yet, somehow, they still hadn’t managed to get him out of office. Not yet.

They had taken down a couple of his lackeys, though. One had been sitting on the county commissioners court, making decisions that always seemed to favor whatever agenda the mayor and his friends were pushing. The other was, unsurprisingly, the police chief, who had been removed only a few weeks earlier.

Mason would have paid good money to see the look on the mayor’s face when he opened the Poppler County Pages and saw Ride or Die Motorcycle Club spread across the front page.

Not because of some crime.

Because they were showing off the work they had been doing for the community while the police department was busy being bought off and ignoring the problems right in front of them.

They knew there were still weasels hiding throughout the county government. The planning and zoning committee was one of the biggest concerns, along with several other places where corruption had dug its roots deep.

Mason already knew that it was going to be the main topic of their evening meeting, along with a few other small odds and ends that needed handling.

“Hey, Junior.”

Jesse, who had been busy on the computer responding to one email or another involving Briggs Property Management affairs, looked up. His face held the bored expression of someone ready for any excuse to focus on something else.

“Yeah?”

“I’mma need you to see if our old pal Olive has heard anything else regarding our dear mayor’s suspected mole in planning and zoning.”

“Oh yeah, of course I gotcha. Honestly, if I could convince Olive to be my old lady, I’d be the happiest son of a gun in all of Poppler County. Hell, Texas, even.”

“I’d feel your sentiment if I didn’t hear this exact same string of words about... wait. Was her name…Jenny? Last week?”

“Jenna. And oh, yeah, she had the donk of an apple, and I wished more than anything I could’ve taken a bite.”

“Yeahhhh. Probably best to wait on someone like Olive until you’re good and ready to settle down.”

“Oh, with an old lady like Olive, I’d be ready. Believe you me.”

“Believe you me, I would never wish that upon her.”

Mason burst out laughing as Jesse grabbed a pen and threw it in his direction.

“Make sure you get everyone to come tonight. I’ve got a lot a things I want to discuss.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.”

“I know you do.”

Mason felt a deep gratitude for his brother, who had never been quite as enthusiastic about motorcycles or anything to do with clubs. But if his big brother wanted to do it, that was always a good enough reason for Jesse to get his hands dirty.

And dirty they had gotten since they started this venture all those years ago.

Mason knew he owed his life to his little brother, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do everything he could to make Jesse’s life just as fulfilling as his own was finally starting to become.

“What about you, Pastor?”

“What about me?”

“When are you fixin’ to settle down?”

Mason laughed loudly, his mind immediately closing off the subject before he could think too deeply about it.

He’d dated once or twice. Every time had ended disastrously, usually because they were more interested in his family name and money than his actual interests or who he was as a person.

He knew he was rough around the edges. He didn’t shave enough, even though his beard had never grown in as thick and full as he wanted. There were still a few patchy spots along his cheeks that he would’ve done anything to fill in, but by that point in his life, he’d accepted his fate. His thick dark brown locks went every which way, and his smile was more crooked the bigger it was. He had height, was 6 foot 3, respectively, and was brawny with muscle due to all the physical labor their club did constantly.

He was a five in his opinion on a good day, and he was perfectly okay with that.

“Not today.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your favorite fracking thang to say.”

“How ’bout we curse like a real man?”

“Real men can also watch their tongues. The Lord is listenin’.”

“God and I have an arrangement.”

“Ha. Scratch what I just said. That’s your favorite thang to say.”

They both chuckled as they closed up the office early, sending some of their extra work to the office in neighboring Sparrow County, which was run by their cousin and another good friend, even if their friendship had only started in adulthood.

Kayla Frances.

Kayla had never been interested in joining their gang, even unofficially. She was more of a businesswoman than the two of them combined, even with her tiny height of 5 foot 1. She was a firecracker and was always willing to help whenever they had extra work from whichever business needed it.

Plus, her husband was their club chef and one of the most intimidating-looking members of the church. Intimidation was one of their biggest flexes after all.

Henry Frances was kind, despite his massive 6 foot 2, 250 pound muscular build, tattoos all the way up to his neck, and intimidating appearance. Kayla had met him through Mason and Jesse, and for that, they were proud.

Any happiness they could bring to people they knew deserved it gave Mason a deep sense of joy, one he never got tired of chasing.

Henry’s food was legendary throughout the county. He entered the chili contest at the county fair every year and hadn’t lost in the past five years running.

Mason’s stomach rumbled.

“Let’s get some wings to bring for everyone.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice! I’ll call Tula right away.”

“Tell her the potato-topped garlic bread bites too.”

“Hell yeah.”

As Jesse placed the order and they headed out to their bikes, Mason couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

He had spent his entire life building something worth protecting. A club. A family. A place where people belonged. Something more than his actual parents could give.

The only thing he had never figured out was whether there was someone out there willing to ride beside him, not because of his name or money, but for who he was.

He knew it was likely an unobtainable dream. Especially considering the fact he was already in his thirties, with not even a hint of a prospect in sight. A part of him feared he might not be the type of husband material he wanted to be, and that worried him too.

He shook his head to clear his mind of what he knew was a fantasy at best. One he knew was best left at the back of the mind.