Chapter Four
TYSON
Five years earlier…
You got used to seeing a certain type of guy here at The Road House. Shaved head. Teeth dirty from tobacco. Tattoos all over his arms and neck and the rest of his body. Something about giving a guy a leather kutte, some riding boots, and the keys to his own hog made him think he was invincible. I never held it against a man for being proud. s**t, if a man could respect his ride, he had every reason to be full of himself.
Not at The Road House though. This was Cobra territory. And nobody f****d around in a place like this.
Everybody else came out to the clubhouse tonight to have a good time. Just a regular night for drinking and friendly conversation. This asshole though… He seemed intent on acting like he owned the place. Tonight wasn’t his night
