He wasn’t surprised by the crowded parking lot and looked up at the stars. He missed Rena, and he knew he needed to go to her, to come clean about all of it.
Lou joined him. “I’d keep far away from the big tree and those Escalades over there.”
Axel looked over and spotted a familiar car circled by a bunch of others under a huge oak. “Is he insane? He brought the Shelby?”
“You going to tell him to take it home?” Lou raised a brow.
“No. I’m not stupid.” He paused, Mantego’s presence hinting at something he’d wondered about but hadn’t believed. “Is Fletcher part of Righteous?” The Righteous were a white-power gang in the city, often at odds with the WSW—the West Side Wolves. Lately, both gangs had been all over the news, the law cracking down on gang-related activity in the city. Even among the coffee drinkers and millionaire techies of Seattle, gangs fought and struggled to hold onto territory.
Lou snorted. “He’s not Righteous, but he wants to be. I had a conversation with Mannie earlier.” Only Lou called Mantego Mannie. “From what he thinks, this is probably Fletcher’s last chance to prove himself to his white brothers. When he gets his ass handed to him, it’s not going to be pretty. The only worry is if they’re bringing guns. Then we need to get gone.”
“Ja.” Axel wanted to break Fletcher’s neck, but he was no fool. A fist rarely won when up against a bullet.
He wondered what Rena would think about tonight. Or about what he’d done for her preceding tonight. He still couldn’t believe he’d hired a group of Yiffies to serenade her. Not one of his better presents, though the guys at work considered it a gift tothem. They continued to razz him about it.
But none of it bothered him because he’d been doing a lot of soul searching lately, and he’d come up with some answers he hoped she’d like. But with only six more days until Valentine’s Day, he felt put on the spot. He could only hope he hadn’t totally ruined things by keeping his distance and working on his own problems.
He texted her every day, and they talked on the phone about anything and everything. He loved talking to her, hearing her voice. But the time had come to see her, face-to-face, and really talk. And this time he’d promised himself he’d share. Whatever she wanted to know, he’d tell her. No matter how much it hurt. He couldn’t lose her. Not again.
A large cavalcade of trucks and cars pulled alongside the road by the bar. Cops usually ignored this area, as mostly rundown homes and businesses populated the side streets. Nothing of notice except for Ray’s.
So when Fletcher and Scott stepped out leading a bunch of redneck-looking assholes, Axel was ready. Someone must have alerted the bar because people started pouring out.
Fletcher sneered as he and his crowd stopped in the small area between the lot and the bar. There didn’t seem to be more than fifteen or twenty guys, and none of them seemed to be carrying.
Facing so many people, Fletcher looked uncertain. And then he spied Axel and concentrated his hate in one direction.
“Look at all the diversity in the crowd. It’s like a rainbow out here.” He sneered at Axel.
His guys laughed.
Axel just stared, saying nothing, his intent to destroy Fletcher and his friends clear in the look he shot the bastard.
Fletcher looked nervous and tried to cover it up with bravado. He obviously hadn’t expected a lot of people on a Wednesday night. “How’s your girlfriend? So sad that her place burned down. But you know, it’s hard for their kind to run a business without someone to tell them what to do. Now if I were the one giving her orders, she’d be on her hands and knees thanking me.” He snickered.
Even knowing the man wanted to start a fight, that he needed to hold onto his control, Axel had a difficult time not playing Fletcher’s game. Because when he imagined how Rena could be hurt, he wanted to kill the man. Break his fucking neck.
He continued to stand there, his hands on his hips, and wait.
Fletcher started to sweat. “What’s wrong, you big pussy? Too scared to talk? How about we fight instead?”
“Take a swing,” Axel finally growled. “I won’t stop the first one.”
Behind him, Sam muttered, “Nah, man. I’d totally block it and hit back.”
Oddly, no one made a move. Not Fletcher and not any of his guys, who seemed to realize they were vastly outnumbered.
Axel sighed. “Today. I have things to do.” Behind him, people laughed.
It was sadly anticlimactic. Before Axel could take a step forward, someone from behind tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned to see Mantego flanked by half a dozen ballers, tats on their necks, brass knuckles on a few fists. He recognized gang tats. The guys around Mantego looked like straight-up convicts. Mantego wore slacks and a black T-shirt, no jacket, and could have passed for one of the millionaires in the city.
He had a slight Spanish accent and spoke in a cultured voice, his words precise. “Excuse me, Heller. I think this is my fight.”
Axel stepped aside. “You sure? I’m happy to take the lead.”
Mantego smiled. “I’m sure. There’s been some miscommunication at this establishment, and I need to make a few things clear. Perhaps you should join the others back in the bar.” He paused. “Oh, and I have a Corvette needing some love. Can you fit me in?”
