“Are you busy later tonight, Sam?” she asks. “I can hang out here a little while longer if you don’t have any plans.”

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply with a playful swat on her ample ass. “I’ll let you know.”

She smiles and walks away, apparently satisfied with my answer.

“So what’s the deal with her?” Toby asks when she moves out of earshot. “Do you two have something serious going on?”

I laugh at the ridiculous thought.

“Hell no! Are you kidding me? Why? You want her? You can have her.”

Toby shakes his head and grins.

“No way. I don’t want your leftovers. A girl needs to have a little something more between her ears than that one anyway. Too much empty space.”

“If you’re going for brains, widen your search beyond the Sweet Butts,” I advise.

We head to a big room at the back of the building. The chicks hanging around the clubhouse know the room is off limits to everyone except the thirteen members of the Steel Infidels Motorcycle Club. All major club business and meetings are conducted inside.

We’re the last two to arrive for tonight’s meeting. My older brothers, Jesse and Flint, are already seated at the head of the long wooden table. The other nine members of the MC are scattered around the room waiting for us. They look up when we walk in.

“Take a seat,” Jesse says. “We don’t have time for any bullshit tonight.”

I pull out a chair beside Flint. The other members stop talking and join us at the table too. Jesse’s face looks grim, which makes me nervous. Nothing much rattles my older brother and President of the MC, so this can’t be good.

“We’re in a shitload of trouble,” Jesse begins. “One of Flint’s contacts in Atlanta passed us word that we’re under investigation again. This time it’s the Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives division. The ATF can nail us on a number of different charges if they start digging. We don’t have a clue as to what they have on us yet or how long we’ve been under their microscope. Flint knows more of the details, so I’ll let him fill you in.”

“The word on the street is that they’re going to send someone undercover to Bardsville to poke around in our business,” Flint says. “Whoever they send might even try to infiltrate the MC. For them to allocate this much manpower and time to an investigation means they’re confident they can find something solid. Obviously none of us want to go to prison, so we need to get a handle on this quickly and be prepared.”

He picks up the large manila envelope sitting on the table and pulls out a stack of photographs.