“Hey man, why don’t we cuff her feet and her legs!”
“I could also get the Black Reapers on you.”
And just like that, the magic two words shut the two assholes up so fast it was like someone had sewn their mouths shut. Their eyes still looked upon me with utter hatred and venom, and there was still the significant and likely chance of violence, but at least I had hit them where it hurt.
“For now, your boyfriend might be able to protect you,” Rick finally said, his lips curling in hatred. “But after tomorrow night, there won’t be any Reapers left to protect you. And when that happens, we’re going to come here. We’re going to drag you from this store. And we’re going to fucking take you to our place and do whatever the fuck we want with you.”
“You’ll be begging for death,” Parker said. “But, you’ll still have some use to us, even in death.”
I felt pathetic having to stand there and take it. One wrong move would provoke them into fulfilling their promises twenty-four hours early. The only saving grace was I wouldn’t be working here tomorrow, but I knew that would just delay the inevitable unless I drove straight back to Utah.
What do they mean by tomorrow night, anyway?
“For now, consider yourself lucky,” Parker said. “Lucius wants us good.”
“Parker!” Rick said. “That’s enough. We’re coming for you tomorrow, bitch. And when we do, your best bet will be to enjoy whatever happens. Because you won’t have a say in the matter.”
He slammed the table with his palm before leaving as if that was supposed to intimidate me somehow. I held firm on not reacting, but to say I wasn’t scared would be a complete lie. I was fucking horrified at what the Saints would do, and I had every reason to believe they would do everything they said.
When both bikes left, I just sat at the stool, shook. I still had the majority of my shift to get through, and at any moment, those two could have decided they didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.
But why would they wait until tomorrow? Because...
Because they know the Reapers will retaliate first if they do something tonight? They’re getting their men in a frenzy for something tomorrow.
I have to tell LeCharles.
I pulled out my phone and texted him to ask where he was. He didn’t respond for several minutes, and each passing minute without a reply of any kind left me more and more panicked and concerned. His club needed him, and he needed his club. Whatever was going on with that needed to be put to the side, just like whatever was going on between us had to be put to the side.
Shortly before eight, he still had not responded. I wasn’t supposed to take phone calls while on shift. But at the risk of undermining this new job I had, what was more important, making a phone call that could save some lives? Or selling a few cases of beer?
I dialed LeCharles’ number. He picked up on the second ring.
“What do you want?”
He was accusatory. It was fair. He was in a dark place.
“Where are you right now?”
“At home,” he said. “Fighting like hell not to give in to the beer.”
Shit. So, he’s sober.
Or, at least, he’s coherent enough to sound sober.
“LeCharles, I... ”
I can’t tell him over the phone. He needs to see the fear in my eyes. He needs to see how serious I am.
“I need you to send me your address,” I said. “I need to tell you something in person.”
“What the fuck do you need to say that you can’t say over the phone?” he said. “You seemed to have an awful lot to say when we last hung out in person. I’d rather have the option of hanging up if—”
“No, LeCharles, please,” I said. “This goes beyond our fighting. This is serious.”
The silence on the other end of the line at least suggested that LeCharles understood the gravitas of my words, if not agreed with them.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “I’ll text it to you. This better not be a ruse to yell at me some more, or I’ll kick you out by force.”
