Where does one go when you need to get away from everyone? You go to a small town on the edge of the states, hoping for some solace — thinking you were in for some quiet years, in a safe haven, you soon would realize that to not be the case.

Having inherited the country house and the empty warehouses on the side, unknowing of the previously shared state of use with the Sons, the club was due for a visit now that management had changed. You just better hope you get to an agreement with them and their use of it. And of course, they had to check the waters first.

“Welcome to Charming. We're the — uh, welcome committee.” Jax had a hint of a grin when he looked back at his crew, sitting on their Harleys, leather-clad, guns and knives up their asses, eyes squinted from the sun. Even when he smiled, it was laced with subtle warning. “We like to keep tabs on newcomers.”