Bash (Diablo Disciples MC #6)

TWO

Bash

All Bash ever wanted was to be a biker, nothing else.

Without even understanding what it meant.

When he first saved enough cash from yard work at seventeen to buy a used Honda Rebel, Bash knew it would become a part of him. He would prioritize being able to ride bikes and live without constraints, no matter the job he got.

Nowadays, he was forty, and he’d scaled up from that Honda to a Harley Night Train. Being a ranked officer in a well-established MC earned him a lot of money. It was the best life he could have envisioned for his younger self.

Bash switched off the engine and swung his leg over the seat, keeping the half helmet in his hand. He was a biker from the tip of his black hair down to the scuff of his leather boots, crunching the asphalt underfoot as he walked toward the prison entrance. He’d been coming here for four years since Primo got locked up, so he was an old hat going through the security process. Before long, he was shown through to the visiting room.

While he waited as a guard led in the prisoners, Bash felt a prickling on the back of his neck. With a quick scan around the rectangle room, he found the culprit. A young blond thing was waiting at her table, eyeballing him like a side of prime beef. She smiled when she got caught, but Bash didn’t smile back and only glanced briefly before looking away.

He wasn’t interested in the woman; even if he was, she was way younger. He was already into another woman the same age, go figure, and she wanted nothing to do with him. He thought of her brown wavy hair and average height, and the image in his mind of her smiling instead of scowling made his heart race. Once he added her hazel eyes to the image, things got so intense that he had to stop his thoughts. Or he’d embarrass himself big time before his club brother arrived.

Just then, Primo appeared. He had on the same puke-colored uniform he’d worn for four years. He got up, and they shook hands, then went in for a quick bro-hug.

Way back, when Bash was in his early twenties, he spent about two months in jail. It was way too long, and even though he pushed the boundaries of the law most days and often crossed that line with their club’s activities, Bash knew he couldn’t handle prison again.

Primo, though, seemed to be doing great as he grinned and plopped his butt on the other plastic chair. “Good to see you, Bash.”

Whatever the circumstances at the clubhouse, they’d attended the twice-weekly visitations throughout his entire prison stay. Primo’s mom and sister occasionally came along if they were in town. That a patched brother went to jail didn’t imply they were abandoned in the wild. The club had their back. By visiting in person, calling, and keeping his commissary account funded, life inside was a little more comfortable than others. Primo was not only patched, but also one of Axel’s trusted advisors as their IT guy.

“You’re looking good, you handsome prick. Have you stacked on more muscle since I last saw you?”

Primo grabbed the coffee that Bash had ready for him. He used his other hand to go over his shaved head and beard.

Most prisoners let themselves go once behind bars, but Primo had kept himself in shape. The IT specialist had a massive brain and knew how to use it. Axel recently greased a lot of palms to get Primo a computer. They hooked him up with a cell phone in the early days. The brothers would’ve gotten him a hooker if Primo had wanted one, but he never asked.

“This place will drive a man mad if he’s not kept busy. The gym here is pretty decent. Enough about me,” he said, “tell me everything I’m missing at the club.”

He knew most of it because Splice was the last to visit and that chatty Lothario loved gossiping. If any man were to infiltrate the mob of old ladies, it would be Splice. Though the ladies seemed to gravitate toward Ruin, no one could figure out why.

The entire visit was dedicated to sharing the news with Primo that Tomb and Nina were back on track and happier than before. Reno’s step-kid was always at the club, following everyone around and asking many questions. He spilled all the tea to Primo about how Ruin’s old lady was putting together a charity concert. This would be her first time back in the spotlight. Primo hasn’t met Aurora Kidd, but he’s heard about the popstar connected to their resident lunatic. Last, he talked about how Axel tries to handle the club’s First Lady and how hilarious it is to see their tough president crumble when she gives him a pout. They constantly exchanged insults, like it was some weird sex game. Bash didn’t get it, but he didn’t have to. Axel seemed happy with his old lady.

They didn’t discuss any club matters. They didn’t risk it, knowing the visitation room probably had cameras on them. The law was always out to catch them doing something illegal.

“Splice said you’ve caught feelings for a nurse at the local hospital.”

Fucking Splice was going to be sporting a fat lip when Bash saw him later.

“Splice has a thing going with every-fucking-woman in Utah and the neighboring states.”

Primo laughed and finished the coffee. “He’s always talked with his dick. So, about this nurse. What’s her name?”

“He didn’t fill in the details?” snarked Bash. Splice was a notorious button pusher.

Primo smirked. “He did, but I’d rather hear it from you, brother. I’m bored as fuck in here. I’ve read everything the library offers.”

“I’ll see about getting you some more books.”

“Appreciate it. So?”

“She’s called Charlotte. And for some unknown reason, she hates bikers.”

Another laugh from Primo. “Fuck, Bash. You know there’s easier pussy out in the world that won’t make you give up shit, right?”

Bash didn’t have a response because he wasn’t that close to Charlotte, even considering they had an uncertain friendship. What he’d be willing to give up for The One in the future was a moot point.

“Why does she hate bikers? Did you slurp soup using a fork?”

Part of his tension fell from Bash’s shoulders, and he half shrugged. “Splice overstepped. I asked a woman out, and she said no. That’s the beginning and end of it, Primo.”

“She doesn’t hate you then?” the Einstein was bored if he was mining Bash for gossip.

“After turning me down again, I was leaving, and I heard one of her colleagues asking if she was crazy because I was so hot. Charlotte told her she’d never date someone in a gang.”

Primo whistled and gave Bash a look of sympathy, which sucked.

“Splice mentioned that a bunch of new sweet bottoms are showing up. Take your pick, dude, and forget about the nurse. No point crying over untapped pussy.”

“You’ve turned to philosophy since you’ve been wearing prison clothes. And Splice has already tried out all the new sweet bottoms more than once.”

“He’s gonna get dick rot one of these days.”

Bash agreed, but that was for Splice to deal with one day.

They only had 40 minutes for each visit. It was never enough, and Bash felt bad seeing Primo being led to the cells. Luckily, if he stayed out of trouble, he’d be out in a few months.

He’d only clipped on the helmet when his phone buzzed. Primo was using his prohibited phone.

Primo : Forget what I said about getting over the nurse. If you want her, do whatever you need to. It worked for Chains.

Bash laughed and stored his phone without replying.

He wasn’t about to force Charlotte into a marriage of convenience, primarily because she didn’t have a father who would sell her like Chains’ father-in-law had done.

However, he was not ready to give up on Charlotte just yet.

While her mouth said she wasn’t interested in dating someone like him, her greedy eyes, lapping him up when she thought he wasn’t looking, told a different story.

And Bash liked that story.

Very. Fucking. Much.

It was a book he could read every night while the sweet nurse and her fiery temper writhed on top of his lap.