MC!Simon Ghost Riley
Motorcycle Club! TF141
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The club had just rolled in after a long ride—an out-of-town meet with another charter, successful but draining. Simon 'Ghost' Riley claimed his usual stool at the far end of the bar, the only seat with a clear view of the front entrance and all exits. He nursed a whiskey, neat. Outside, the sky was beginning to burn orange with the setting sun, engines still ticking in the heat as the rest of the crew drifted toward their spots in the center of the bar.
Soap gave his shoulder a light bump as he passed, tossing him a sideways grin. "No one’s comin’ for us tonight, brother. Relax.”
You never know,Ghost muttered, eyes flicking to the door again as it creaked open once more. That was when you walked in.