“Do either of them ride?” Can’t join the Lost Kings if you don’t ride a minimum number of hours a year. Never been an issue for any of us because it’s in our blood. Not a lot of young guys have the desire anymore.

“Remy does. A 2014 Night Rod I helped him find.”

“Sounds about right.” Nice bike with a lot of power, but not the best for long road trips.

Now Murphy’s excited. Like most of us, he can talk about bikes forever. “It’s pretty wicked. Still mostly stock but he chopped out the rear fender, blacked out all the metal. Kept almost everything else.”

“Talk to him about stopping by or hanging around?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he has a lot of free time.”

“Won’t make it as a prospect then.” Prospects get all the bitch work and are expected to drop everything when the club needs ‘em. Harder and harder to find someone with that level of dedication.

“I’ll feel out the situation some more.”

Since Jigsaw’s new here, he should probably go in one of the first rounds. Apparently, Murphy has some pull here and Griff places him in a later fight.

“Don’t embarrass me tonight,” Murphy warns Jigsaw without his usual I’m-just-fucking-with-you smile.

Whatever tonight is, it’s a big deal. There are more matches than I’ve usually seen at one of these things. Louder music. More energy than my thirty-eight-year-old ass feels like dealing with.

Christ, this president gig has aged me twenty years.

Finally, Jigsaw’s up and he’s impressive in the ring.

“He shoulda been called Buzzsaw,” I say to Murphy.

“Shit, yeah. I feel kinda bad for giving him a hard time now.”

“No, you don’t.”

One corner of his mouth quirks up. “True.” A little more seriously, he adds, “But he’s good.”

“Your boy’s not gonna get too cocky, is he?” Jake asks Murphy in a voice so low, I almost can’t hear him.

“Why?”

“Brady’s a cop.”

“Shit, seriously?” I blurt out.

Jake shrugs.

“What happens here is supposed to stay here. Cop or not, Brady’s gotta know that,” Murphy says.

Jigsaw, thankfully, isn’t a show-off and he doesn’t fight dirty. He wins, but it’s close.

“Jigsaw!” Rooster roars, throwing his arms up in a victory sign. “Wooo!”

Then it’s Murphy’s turn. “Make me proud, Gingersnap.” He rolls his eyes at the stupid nickname he picked up at another MC’s clubhouse we’re friendly with.

As annoyed as I am with Murphy for still fighting, he’s damn talented. The asshole he’s up against, not so much.

“Is Murphy holding back?” I ask Jake.

“Probably. I don’t think this guy knows what he’s doing.”