His Loyal Rebel - Debra Kayn

Chapter 1

Whip

1993

BANG.

Whip dropped the throttle cable to the ground and reached for the pistol inside his Tarkio Motorcycle Club vest.

"Across the street." Rick, his brother-in-law, moved behind a nearby car and peered over the vehicle's roof.

Taking position behind his Harley, he looked in the distance and found a man and woman. The female held her hands in front of her as if she held a pistol on the guy.

From across the street, it appeared they were in an argument. Though he couldn't hear them talking.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Rick glanced at Whip.

Whip squinted, studying the scene in front of him. The moment he made out the patches on the back of a leather vest, he stepped out from behind the motorcycle.

"What's a Cusclan member doing in Missoula?" He kept his weapon in his hand.

Rick glanced over his shoulder at the motorcycle shop. "Your guess is as good as mine."

The woman shot the pistol. Dust flew up near the man's feet.

"God damnit." Whip slipped his pistol behind his belt in the front of his jeans. "That'll bring the cops around."

The door behind them opened. Carl, the manager of the bike parts store, walked between Rick and Whip. "What's going on? I heard gunshots."

"Looks like some woman doesn't want anything to do with that guy?" said Whip.

"Is he one of yours?"

Rick scoffed. "No."

More concerned about why a Cusclan member would step foot inside Missoula's city limits, Whip studied the couple, getting a bad taste in his mouth. His hatred of the other MC ran thick through his blood.

Far enough away, he couldn't tell if he was familiar with the member or not. While he'd meet others from Cusclan in prison, there was no way he knew all two hundred members by sight.

The woman yelled, throwing her arms out to her sides, and stepped toward the man. Whip cocked his head, straining to pick up on part of the argument. It could be a normal fight going on between the guy and his old lady, or they could be strangers.

"They know each other," mumbled Rick.

He agreed. A stranger harassing a lone woman would've sent her running and yelling for help. She wouldn't pull a gun and stick around to shoot the guy if she feared for her life.

"Should I call the police?" asked Carl.

"No. Let them hash it out." Rick put his weapon away and stepped to his Harley. "I'm heading over to Promise to inform Priest we have a trespasser in town. He can send someone else to make sure he gets the hell out of Missoula."

Whip gritted his teeth, his concern going to his sister. "Get straight home to Tracy and the kids."

The last time Cusclan Motorcycle Club invaded Missoula, they'd killed his mom and dad in front of his sixteen-year-old sister, fucking her up. Afterward, Whip had gone to prison for four years, dreaming about the day he'd retaliate for his parents' death.

"As soon as I inform Prez, I'll head home." Rick started his motorcycle.

At the rumble of the engine, the Cusclan member looked across the street. Whip stuck his finger out at his side, catching Rick's gaze. His brother-in-law and MC brother dipped his chin, aware he'd drawn all the attention.

As a former Cusclan member who wore the scars on his back for the time he'd spent with the other club, Rick had enough reasons to kill the rider. But Rick put Tarkio first. He was the most loyal brother he'd ever met.

Carl nudged Whip with his shoulder. "Feel free to step inside if you want to wait him out."

"I don't run." He stepped toward his motorcycle.

The Cusclan member walked toward his bike. Whip waited, making the other man leave first. He wasn't going to wait around for other Tarkio members to ride by. He wanted their enemy gone. His sister safe. No casualties within the club.

Two seconds after he heard the roar of the engine, he started his Harley. Three seconds after the guy pulled out on the street, Whip rode after him.

He'd rather kill the motherfucker for stepping foot in Missoula than breathe his exhaust while letting him get away.

The woman remained in the parking lot as Whip followed the Cusclan member. Led on a high-speed chase, he ignored the risks of the police pulling him over.

Since Cusclan took over the underground gun trade from Moroad Motorcycle Club, they'd become a bigger threat to Tarkio. It was only a matter of weeks before they started to expand inside the Federal prisons in the Pacific Northwest and