Chapter 10: The Biker Camp Clash
We returned to the biker camp late that afternoon, the sun dipping low behind the western ridge and painting the dusty sky in bruised shades of orange and purple. The roar of engines had grown louder as more riders poured in for the evening rally events, clustering around the makeshift stage and the row of beer tents set up near the center of the grounds.
I parked the bike near my trailer, cut the engine, and helped Leo dismount. His small face was pale with exhaustion from the long ride back, his eyes heavy with the emotional weight of seeing his mother in that sterile hospital room. I sent him inside the trailer with strict instructions to lock the deadbolt behind him and stay put until I came back.
I didn't even have time to turn around before Crash stepped out from the shadow of the cedar trees, a cold bottle of beer in one hand and a suspicious scowl plastered across his scarred face. Crash had been my shadow for five years—a loud, loyal, hard-drinking enforcer who knew every dirty secret I had tried to bury in the dust of three different states.
"Where the hell have you been all day, Jax?" Crash demanded, stepping forward and blocking my path to the trailer door. "We had two guys get picked up by the local sheriff down at the north gate, and the captain’s been looking for you to sort out the bail money."
"I had business to take care of," I said flatly, pushing past him toward the trailer steps.
Crash grabbed my shoulder, spinning me back around with a rough jerk. His eyes darted toward the trailer door before locking back onto my face. "Business? Since when do you run off all morning on a Sunday rally weekend? And what's with the kid I saw you riding in with yesterday? Word around the campfire is you've gone soft, picking up strays like some wandering charity case."
The adrenaline spiked in my veins. For five years, I had played the part—the quiet, tattooed enforcer who asked no questions, bled when told, and never let anyone get close enough to see the scars underneath. But looking at Crash now, smelling the stale beer and cheap tobacco on his breath, I realized I was done playing that game.
"Take your hand off my shoulder, Crash," I warned, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that made him hesitate for a fraction of a second.
Crash dropped his hand, but his scowl deepened into an ugly sneer. "You think you can just bring some kid into our camp and pretend nothing’s changed? This club has rules, Jax. We don't take in baggage. We don't babysit. If you've got some stray kid hanging around, you drop him at the nearest social services office and get back to work."
Before I could answer, the heavy wooden door of the trailer creaked open. Leo stood on the threshold, clutching the old faded photograph in his small hand, his hazel eyes wide and fearful as he looked out at the towering biker blocking the doorway.
Crash’s eyes snapped toward the boy. A cruel, knowing smirk spread across his bearded face as the pieces finally clicked together in his head. "Well, well, well," Crash muttered, taking a slow step toward the steps. "What do we have here? Looks like the tough guy's got a secret family. Does the old man know you've been hiding a little bastard out in the woods all these years?"
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Instinct took over before thought could catch up. I crossed the distance between us in a single stride, my fist driving straight into Crash’s jaw with a sickening crunch that echoed across the gravel lot. Crash stumbled backward, crashing hard against the side of a nearby parked chopper, his beer bottle shattering into a thousand amber pieces on the dirt.
The surrounding camp went dead silent. Heads turned from the beer tents, and half a dozen leather-vested riders stopped what they were doing, their eyes locking onto the two of us standing by the trailer. I stood over Crash, my knuckles stinging, my breathing heavy and controlled, staring down at my old friend with absolute defiance in my eyes. The facade was shattered, the secret was out, and I was ready to burn the whole world down to protect my boy.
