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LEATHER BOYS

Book Four of the

Men in Motion Series

BY G.A. HAUSER

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement

of the copyright of this work.

LEATHER BOYS

Book Four of the Men in Motion Series

Cover art by Kendra Egert

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1-60202-150-1

ISBN MS Reader (LIT): 978-1-60202-151-8

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

PDF, PRC & HTML

Linden Bay Romance, LLC

Palm Harbor, Florida 34684

www.lindenbayromance.com

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments,

events or locales is coincidental.

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All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever

without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and

reviews.

First Linden Bay Romance publication: September 2008

For you, Dad, yes you.

Who though he is an octogenarian, still goes to the gym, is a kid at heart, and even joins in the debate

in creating titles for my books. Though they were promising, Cycles of Love and Biker Buddies didn’t

make the cut. But I love you for your help and humoring me and big brother as we try to hit it right.

Thanks for the love and support, and mostly for the sense of humor. I do believe we all got that from

you, Mr. H.!

Chapter One

Devlin Young had known about the Sturgis motorcycle gathering since he was ten. His father, Jan,

used to own a Harley Davidson chopper. Every year in August Jan would take off on a wild ride to

that colossal bikers’ extravaganza with Dev’s mother, Melinda, on the back of his roadster. The year

Dev turned thirteen he was finally old enough to join them, riding along in a sidecar. They continued

to go as a family for the next three years until Jan had an accident at work and was unable to ride the

bike any longer. Fourteen years later, Dev was about to return to the madness of the event. And he

couldn’t wait.

As Dev polished his brand new Kawasaki, making the chrome gleam like a mirror, he smiled

contentedly. “That’s yet another good thing to come out of my divorce,” he muttered, crouched down

in his garage in Centerville, Ohio, rubbing his “baby” down before he rode to the club meeting.

Standing back, finally satisfied she didn’t have a fingerprint on her, Dev made sure he had everything

he needed. Wearing his black leather jacket and a pair of jeans, he placed his helmet on his head and

straddled the seat with as much excitement as if he were mounting a lover. Priming it, pushing in the

choke, he turned the key in the ignition, loving the sound and vibration under his ass. Dev drove out

of the garage, clicking the remote to close it as he accelerated out of his quiet condominium complex.

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the Kettering Bar and Grille. Counting almost a

dozen motorcycles already out front, Dev felt his pulse race. Propping the bike up on its kickstand, he

removed his helmet and hurried inside. In anticipation of meeting everyone face to face, he pushed

back the front door to the bar. It was the first gathering he had attended, but he had spoken to Jerry

Macy over the phone. Jerry ran the club, organizing the meetings and a few other group events,

including Sturgis, throughout the year.

Seeing a large table cluttered with enamel helmets, Dev knew he was in the right room. Upon

entering, some of the group members noticed him and looked up.

“Hey.” He waved shyly. “I’m Devlin Young. I spoke to Jerry last week about joining.”

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A man in his fifties with gray peppering his black hair acknowledged him. “Devlin, welcome

aboard.” As he made introductions around the room, Dev knew the names would go right through

him. He was terrible at remembering them.

A young man sitting near a vacant seat coaxed him over.

Placing his helmet on the table with all the others, like a trophy of their beloved sport, Dev asked,

“Am I late?”

“No. Not at all. We don’t usually start ‘til eight.”

“I’m sorry. Jerry went around the circle so quickly I didn’t get your name.”

“Sam. Sam Rhodes.”

“Sam.” Dev shook his hand. After admiring Sam’s good looks for a moment, Dev tuned back in to

Jerry’s instructions.

“We could meet up here, or at my place. I don’t see any problem with either,” Jerry announced. “I’m

also open to suggestions.”

A man with dark black hair, a finely trimmed goatee, and a tattoo of an eagle on his shoulder asked,

“What’s wrong with a lot close to Interstate 675? I wouldn’t mind hitting the Cracker Barrel on

Wilmington Pike for breakfast first, then we have freeway access right out the door.”

“Sounds good. Anyone else other than Tony have a suggestion?” Jerry eyed the members in the room.

Dev tried to commit their names to his memory. Tony, the dark-haired guy with the eagle tattoo.

Jerry, middle-aged fellow, graying hair. What was that other guy’s name? Doug ?

Most of the members were older than he had expected. Out of the dozen attendees, only three or four

seemed to be under or around thirty. The rest were obviously fifty-plus. He hated to admit he

preferred it that way. He’d seen what young men in their early twenties were like in organizing an

event. They sucked.

“Since we have several new members joining us tonight, why don’t we go around the room and just

say a little about ourselves.” Jerry added. “I can begin. I’m Jerry Macy, head of this wonderful

motorcycle group called the Leather Boys. I’m married to my lovely wife, June.” He gestured to a

sweet looking middle-aged lady sitting next to him. “We’ve got two grown kids and I own a printing

business in Sugarcreek.”

As each member spoke about themselves, Dev paid closer attention to the ones who seemed more

interesting. The dark-haired, tattooed man had a wicked smile.

“Yeah, I’m Tony Spagna, originally from New York. I’m thirty, married, I work as a teacher for

Fairborn Elementary School.”

“Hi, everyone. I’m Ralph Jacobs. I’m married to Kay,” he touched the pretty woman next to him on

the shoulder, “and we have two small children, three and five. I work as a mechanic for Planet Ford.”

Dev lost interest in some of the long-winded speakers. It was just a hello for crying out loud, not a

speech. There was Douglas Allen, the divorced fifty-year-old ex-marine who worked security at the

courthouse downtown, and a few older, balding, gray-haired men who completely lost Dev’s attention

as they rambled on about how wonderful their businesses were and everyone should patronize them.

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Next was Sam, who perked Dev’s attention back up.

“Hi, to all you newcomers. As I am relatively new myself. I’m Sam Rhodes, twenty-eight, single, and

live in Centerville. I have my own business as a web designer and host and I’m happy to be part of

the group.”

Dev found all eyes on him. He cleared his throat. “I’m Devlin, or Dev Young, thirty, divorced, no

kids, I’m self- employed as a writer…” He noticed he had piqued Sam’s interest instantly. “And I’m

just glad to be here and to be going to Sturgis with all of you.”

Jerry smiled and tried to be heard over the chatter. “Right. August fifth, everyone will meet at the

Cracker Barrel on Wilmington Pike for breakfast. Early. It has to be about seven in the morning,

people. Then we’ll hit I675 and head out to South Dakota. Any questions before we have beer and

food?”

As the noise level grew, Sam leaned closer to Dev to ask, “What do you write?”

“Fiction. So? Web designer?”

“Yes. Do you have an author website?”

“No. Not yet.”

“I can help you with one.”

“I should. I know it’s your calling card on the net.”

“Have you published anything? What kind of books do you write?”

Dev was embarrassed to tell Sam what he wrote. Not many people were big fans of his genre, so he

usually lied about their content. “I’ve published quite a few. Uh, thrillers, mystery, you know.” A

waitress arrived to take orders for their drinks and food.

Listening to Sam order a beer and burger, Dev said, “The same,” when the waitress asked him.

“Have you ever been to Sturgis?”

“Yes. Many moons ago. My dad is a big fan of motorcycles.” Dev loved the way Sam’s hair color

matched his eyes, both the exact same shade of chocolate brown. Delightful.

“I’ve never been there. It’s like the place is legendary for Harley riders. I bet I get a lot of grief for

riding a Japanese bike.”

“Nah, I talked to my dad about it. There are plenty of Japanese and Italian bikes there now. The main

thing is you have to ride there. If you show up with a truck and trailer you’re dead meat.” Dev

laughed and noticed Tony trying to listen from across the table. “What do you drive, Tony?” Dev

asked, attempting to involve him.

“Harley Sportster.”

“Oh, you’ll have no problem fitting in.”

“I used to own a Ducati. But I traded it in.”

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Sam shouted, “Why don’t you move down to our end of the table?”

Dev looked across from him at the few vacant seats. It appeared the older crowd knew each other so

well they were like bar buddies and inevitably cliques began to form.

As Tony stood and relocated to be closer to them, Dev admired his tightly packed body. Though Tony

wasn’t tall he seemed very powerful.

When Tony was sitting across from Sam and him, Dev asked, “Are we the only young guys?”

“Ralph is in his thirties.” Tony pointed to the bearded man who had stated he was a mechanic.

“That’s right.” Dev nodded.

Their beers were placed before them.

As the waitress set his down, Dev watched the foam float over the side of the glass slowly, like in an

advertisement for alcohol.

“I assume we’re all staying at Buffalo Chip campgrounds.” Tony sipped his ale.

Sam replied, “Yes. That was the plan. I heard if you bring a tent it’s first come first serve.”

As he listened, Dev allowed his glass to drip on the table before he brought it to his lips and got it all

over his shirt.

“We can camp together. It’ll be great.” Sam smiled brightly at Dev.

Dev lit up at his adorable dimples. “I’d like that.”

“I wonder what the hell it’ll be like.” Tony leaned his elbows on the table

Dev took a sip of his beer. “I’ve been there. I remember my dad had an attitude that the bikers did

what the fuck they pleased. There isn’t a lot the locals can do about it.”

Tony smiled. “Can you imagine the cops dealing with that crowd?”

“Exactly.”

Sam smiled at Dev. “Man, I’m going to like hanging with you. You’re a tough boy, aren’t you?”

Choking on his beer, Dev laughed. “Me? Uh, you’re describing my dad, not me.” Dev looked over at

Tony who was staring at him. Pointing to Tony, Dev said to Sam, “He’s the tough one. Look at his

damn tattoo.”

“I’ve got one.” Sam yanked his shirt up over his chest, pulling his right arm out of the sleeve.

Dev almost passed out at the sight of his incredibly ripped torso. Twisting in his chair, Sam showed

off his small tattoo on his left shoulder blade.

“What the hell is it?” Tony leaned over the table to look.

“It’s a dragon. Can’t you tell?”

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