Bad Reputation(Rewriting)

Deimos Riders

Author note: currently rewriting bad rep, first chapter up now! A few things have changed. Now set in London as that's where I'm from and the sheriff is now a police detective for crime investigation. Characters will remain the same. 

Blazing flames licked the horned skull patch on the back of Jett's leather jacket. His raven locks fluttering in the wind as he took his motorbike for a ride, the thrill of testing his new scrambler had him forgetting his helmet. He circled the old factories and garages under the bridges of the east London's industrial stretch, his tires screeching to a stop as he ended back near the docks and the garages that he called home.

The chain linked fence rolled open revealing the Deimos Riders compound. An old shipping warehouse, perfect for dealing with foreign business and there was even a permanent boat hooked up at the docks. The club had been going strong for decades, the east charter one of the largest in London.

Jett kicked the stand of his bike down and climbed off the worn seat. His fingertips traced the glossy black gas tank as he walked away, he glanced up and sighed at his big brother Steel approaching with a scowl on his face. Steel's piercing glare sent a shiver down Jett's spine, the look reminding him of their father.

"You going to answer your damn phone." Steel said throwing the flip phone to Jett. He leant against the picnic table outside of the Deimos Riders bar. It creaked under his six-foot frame, the wooden panels swaying as he shifted his feet.

He glanced down at the flashing screen, he didn't need to answer it to know it was her. The girl with inky hair and berry glossed lips. Jett slipped the phone into his pocket, shrugging. "We got another run?"

"We've just got back from the last one. Fourteen days of you, fucking moping around and ignoring your girl." Steel brushed the dirt from his jeans and stood up, his dark blue eyes squinting in the sunlight as he stared at Jett. He shook his head, mumbling under his breath and walked through the double iron doors.

Jett ran his fingers through his hair, the phone in his pocket ringing once again and he dug it out, his silver ring snagging on the already ripped seam inside. He silenced it and tightened his grip on it. He rushed after Steel and shoved the doors open with too much force for a Monday morning.

The dull lights hummed in the dingy riders bar, the senior members turned in their seats to glance at Jett interrupting their morning drinks. The four old men eyed him curiously, waiting for the young lad to raise his voice but they avoided the scene when Steel placed a rough hand on Jett's shoulder, his fingers pinching the fabric of his jacket.

"What the fuck is up with you," he said so only the two of them could hear.

"Just leave it." Jett shrugged him off and rolled his shoulders.

A sigh left Steel's lips. He scratched the light stubble on his jaw, " let me guess. She's moved further away." He crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow.

"You ain't going to believe this shit," Jett said shaking his head. "You remember that C.I.D prick that searched the place a month ago?" He paused as Steel nodded. "Well, that's whose fostered her." There was no way the man would let Jett anywhere near her.

"Territorial police has got too many departments these days. The guys a criminal investigator, not the boss man." Steel tugged Jett behind the bar and guided him to the stock room. "How long she been there?"

Jett smacked his palm against the metal racks filled with pint glasses.

"Two weeks."

Steel steadied the shelving unit, glasses clinking. "Four months left and she can stay here without any problems. It beats the last place," Steel said clapping him on the back. Jett tensed at the mention of the previous foster home.

"You saw the way that guy looked at us, we're scum to people like them," Jett picked the torn skin around his fingernails. "He's not going to let me near her."

He flinched as Steel's laugh echoed through the room, it was a rare thing for Jett to hear. Steel cleared his throat and squeezed the back of Jett's neck.

"Since when has that stopped either one of you," Steel said through a faint smile, his laugh fading away. "How many times has she shimmied down a drainpipe to see you?"

"I'm not a kid," he grumbled pushing Steel away from him. The gesture was one he didn't want to remember, Steel already had their mother's dark blue eyes and their father's temper whereas Jett only got the ebony hair. He shoved his older brother harder than he thought and Steel crashed into a barrel of beer.

The door clicked open. Jett spun around, his face bumping someone's shoulder and the smell of oil told him it was the clubs resident mechanic, Twitch. Tall and lean, his nickname down to his love of tweaking bikes and not the nervous tic of his mouth. The man was a hugger, he released Jett and looked around him to laugh at Steel sprawled on the floor. No tattoos decorated his skin. If it wasn't for the scar on his throat, he could be mistaken for a run of the mill mechanic working for a car chain.

"Steel, Gov wants us in the in the chop shop," Twitch said as he exited the stock without a second glance at the two brothers.

"Go see your girl," Steel said brushing past Jett. "I'll fill the Gov in." He followed after Twitch.

He didn't need telling twice, the ring of his phone motivated him to walk out to the bar area. Jett answered her call, "I'm on my way, Smalls." He slid it into his pocket and pulled the zipper close.

Jett didn't bother to say his goodbyes, most of the riders were in the Chop and he never really bothered with the senior members. He squinted in the sunlight, letting the door shut behind him as he made his way to his motorbike. His helmet dangled by the straps on his handlebars, he picked up the leather gloves he had tucked in them and slipped them on.

He swung his leg over the seat and pulled on his helmet before starting his bike. Flicking the visor down to shield his eyes in the harsh sun, he lifted his foot and drove out of the Deimos Riders compound.

The busy London streets weren't on Jett's side today, the red traffic lights slowing him down. He tightened his grip on the handlebars as the tall apartment blocks disappeared giving way to neatly aligned red brick houses. The grass a lusher green just out of the city, children played on the street with only their front doors open for supervision. His rumbling motorbike attracted the kid's attention, their eyes following him as his tyres rolled along the smooth tarmac street.

Fifty-two Shernham way. He stopped outside the brown picket fence and titled the bike to rest on the kickstand. Stairs led up to the pebble-dashed house, his breath hitching as his gaze fell on the beauty waiting for him on the top step.

Her elbow fell from its resting spot on her knee. A smile stretched her berry-stained lips, she raked a hand through her inky hair and pushed it out of her face. She jumped up from the stairs and ran to Jett, launching herself into his arms just as he climbed off his bike.

Jett sank into her embrace, "Milla," he whispered.

"I thought you weren't..." she pressed her cheek to his chest unable to finish the horrible thought aloud. Milla slipped away from him and looked up at him, strands of his raven hair tumbling over his forehead. He smiled down at her revealing dimples and kissed the tip of her nose.

His thumb traced her chin, "I missed you."

Milla smiled and wrapped her hands around his wrists, "so how is this going to work?" She asked raising her brow and nudging her head to the police car parked on the driveway.

"I won't lie, its problematic," he said scratching the back on his neck. "But we've dealt with worse than him," he said glancing at the front door swinging open.

Jett half expected the man to be carrying a police baton with him and a riot shield ready to beat the shit out of him, but he was empty handed. The man's gaze fell on the riders patch on his leather jacket, his lips curlings as he stomped down the stairs and pulled Milla behind him.

"Luke," Milla snapped as he stood in her way.

Luke folded his arms. "Not today boy, leave," he barked reminding Jett of a pitbull with his face scrunched up in anger. He watched Jett retreat down the path with a wink, his body unmoving as he waited for the bike to disappear down the street.