Bailing Out (Riders Of Tyr #1)

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Chapter 3: Great Impressions

Bjorn

“What the fuck do you mean he is not dead?” Tor is in my face.

“I told you what the fuck happened, man” I roar.

“Fuck. Who is she?”

“I don’t know” I kick away a chair.

Tor looks at me with utter disappointment before he goes into the office where the King of our club is to report the news and I was left there to wallow in my frustration. It was an easy job. Follow Javier, plant a bomb and send him to meet his maker. Who would expect a woman coming out of nowhere, saving Passado’s ass the last moment?

I took a good, long look at that woman. She was young, probably younger than me, mid-twenties. And I hate to admit it but she was hot. Fucking hot! Our eyes locked as I drove away and I saw her big, emerald eyes, the perfect little nose and the full set of lips. Those lips still haunt me. They were a little bit too big for her elegant face but I had never seen a sexier pair of lips, perfect for...I jolt in my jeans completing my thoughts and I shake my head annoyed. She was tall and agile if I were to judge by the way she pushed Passado out of harm’s way. And as she did, she gave me the chance to look upon her ass inside those black tights. Another jerk from my dick makes all other comments less eloquent. What was it with her? When my thoughts go back to that oversized gray blouse that fell off her left shoulder, I involuntarily lick my lips and feel a greater jolt in me. Instantly, I shake the thought away with a dark temper. It’s been a while since I had feelings like that for a woman and the guilt that comes over me cripples my senses. I have to let out some of the confused anger I feel so it is the table’s turn to feel my rage and it is broken in half after it meets my hand.

“Smashing things around is not doing us any good, Bjorn” the King’s voice fills the room.

I turn and face Haf, a man in his fifties with gray hair, tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He isn’t as tall or strapping as I am, but he is a scary guy, with a long list of scars and longer list of kills. He was part of the original chapter in Sweden when they came over years ago, hunted by a rivalry that turned into war. Now he rules over the Riders with iron determination and is easily angered. And he is angry as he stands before me. Last thing one wants to see is Haf angry and it was indeed the last thing a lot of people saw. The very last.

“Tor told me that a chick saved Passado. Who is she?” Haf growls.

“I have no idea. She just popped out of nowhere and she pushed Passado out of harm’s way. I drove away cause the cops were coming. Ironhand got the guns, right?”

“He did. And Eric is on her tail to clean up your mess.”

“My mess?” I get close to the King “Was I the one to lose the guns in the first place?”

“No, but Four-Fingers cut loose on your watch with our guns. That makes it your mess.” Haf looks up at me.

I bite down my anger and look away. I don’t like Haf at all but he is my King, the President of my club and there is nothing to be done about it.

“Now, I have some work to do upstate, buyers to meet with Runner. Tor will take care of everything here. When I am back I want Passado dead and that bitch out of the picture. Do not kill her before you find out why she’s meddling with our affairs.”

That is the last thing Haf says, before he pushes the door of the bar open and I hear the sound of Harleys go away. Tor beckons at the club’s inner sanctum and I follow him. The room has a round table in it, decorated with runes and Nordic symbols. In the middle of it there was the Tiwaz Rune, the arrow aiming for the sky, with the words of the club engraved “The Leavings of the Wolf”. Tor sits next to the big chair at one side of the table and runs his fingers over his head. Ironhand enters the room and takes his place next to me. Stig comes in without his laptop for once and sits across Tor, putting the curls of his long hair behind his ear. Last Daniel walks in and takes his usual place next to Tor looking at me quite amused. Apart from Haf he is the oldest one that still rides with the Riders. The rest of the Riders aren’t there and I am glad to keep this embarrassment of mine contained for the time being.

“Has Eric called?” Tor asks.

“No, man.” Stig is responsible for our communication so he answers.

“Okay. He must be on her. So what did you see?” Tor asks me.

The image of that mysterious woman comes rushing back and I shift uneasily on my chair. I have to give it to her. She makes an impression. And I am not an impressionable guy.

“I didn’t get to see much. She didn’t have anything that stood out. She might have been a passerby.” I cough to hide my arousal.

“Passerby? Seriously?” Tor yells “Sure. A concerned citizen, falling in the path of a bomb to save a criminal.”

“I am sorry, man.” I fuss with my beard trying to contain my frustration.

“I hope Eric finds her and then we will know more.” Tor says and turns to Stig “You keep tabs on what happens with Passado. I am guessing he will be taken to the San Leandro Hospital. Let me know when he is out. Do it from here. There would be swarms of Toltecs keeping an eye on their VP.”

The boy gets up swiftly and I follow him with my eyes. He is the latest addition to the roaster and he is the youngest one on the table as well. For some unexplained reason Stig ended up with the Riders. He had won an internship in Silicon Valley that got him from a small town in Sweden to San Francisco. He was looking for some place to feel like home, found out about the Riders, came for a visit and stayed. He is a computer wizard and he may have been with us for a little amount of time but he is invaluable.

Ironhand gets up and left the room saying nothing as he usually does. Tor stays on his seat, puts his elbows on the table and buries his head in his hands. I throw one last look at him and go at the bar to have a beer. I glance at Stig in the office and I catch myself worrying about a woman I hardly know. Eric is Haf’s right hand. If Haf wants her dead, Eric will deliver. I know I shouldn’t care for her, but a part of me thought it is a shame to see her with a bullet between her big, green eyes. Or her perfect full breasts. I press my eyes together to dispel that image my instincts are zeroing in on. I gulp my beer in one sip and go for a new one.

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