Black and White (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 1) Read Free

bunch of college kids were setting up at the table next to use and a couple of them had glanced over at his sermon. I couldn’t figure out what they were, but they sure weren’t white. One tossed me a look, as if asking what I was doing with Thurge. I scowled back. He might be a wiseass, but he was my sworn brother. I’d backed him on the playground and I’d back him on a battlefield – if it came to that. I slung my jacket back on and zipped it up tight so everyone could see our pale mare of a logo.
    Thurge missed the first try, but I scratched and he got another chance. I watched his eyes to see where he would go, and caught again that other pair of darker eyes from over his shoulder. She flicked over my jacket, taking in the bold white name. Now she’d know what I was. But it didn’t chase her off like it had the college kids. That warm look dripped over my body, her eyes half shut as if I were a dream to her. I sat mesmerized by her inky gaze.
    “Hey, what the fuck?”
    Thurge’s roar slammed me out of it. The college kid it was aimed at still had his butt up in the air lining up his shot. The back of the stick jabbed out unseen at my buddy’s nose again. Thurge grabbed the guy and flipped him around. The guy looked confused but his other three friends lined up next to him like a brown picket fence. I shot up and flexed.
    “You trying to start something, darkie?” Thurge spat into their faces.
    “Sorry?” the prick with the cue asked back with a lilting high voice. I snorted and sat back down. Indians, fresh imports too – Thurge could handle the whole damn continent of ‘em.
    “Not as sorry as I am to smell that curry breath,” Thurge said. “Why don’t you take that stick and go back home to wipe the shit off your streets?”
    “Hey, fuck you, man,” one of his buddies yelled out in a hilarious accent, but one look from Thurge wilted him.
    “You wanna fuck qwik-e-mart?” Thurge said. “Cause I got a stick right here that’s looking for a home.” He whapped the cue across his hand.
    The four of them shrank back. Every eye in the bar sat witness to their disgrace, but a massive black man was working his way over to us.
    “Hey,” he shouted as he marched up. “What’s all the hubbub?”
    “This man, he is being racist,” one of the Indians shouted.
    “Oh, I’m no racist, boy,” Thurge muttered. “Until you crossed the line separating us, I had no beef with you. Heh, no beef, get it?”
    He chuckled at his own joke. Even I smirked.
    “I heard the things you told them,” the bouncer said. “Now, I’ll give you a chance to apologize like a man, or I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
    The fire lit up behind Thurge’s amber eyes. I’d seen that look before. I shot back to my feet as he said, “I ain’t got nothing to apologize to these towel heads for.”
    “That’s it,” the giant said. “You’re out.”
    “Fuck you, Sambo. This four eyed prick assaulted me. I got the right to sling a few choice words back.”
    “Not those ones.” The bouncer’s massive paw landed on Thurge’s shoulder, but he swatted it off like a fly.
    “Thurge.” I went over and patted his back. Our bikes were saddled with hot weapons – the serial numbers were stamped loud and clear. Now wasn’t the time.
    I was almost eye-to eye with the bouncer. He glanced at my colors and shook his head. “Both of you have got to go right now.”
    “It’s your lucky day,” I growled, then turned to Thurge. “Come on, hoss, let’s ride. At least we drank for free.”
    Thurge locked eyes and shook his head once.
    Aw, fuck.
    “I’ll go,” he said to the bouncer. “I’ll leave this mud-puddle, but my friend ain’t done a thing. He’ll stay.”
    I held firm, but I just wanted to sigh. He wanted me to stay and follow these guys out. That’s what that head shake had meant. I’d find out where the Indians lived so he could pay them a more personal visit.
    “You sure?” I asked. “You don’t want