“He won’t care.”
“That’s a no,” she retorted.
“I’m twenty-four years old, I don’t need to tell my brother anything.”
“Um, okay, sure, we can play it that way,” she said. “If he finds out, though, I’m playing dumb.”
“It’s fine. I know Smiley. He’ll watch out for us.” I faced her again. “I’m ready.”
“Good. I already called for a car.”
We headed outside and the ride share was already waiting for us. The bar wasn’t far, but the driver still wasn’t sure about leaving us. “This is rough place,” he said in broken English.
“We’ve been here before,” I said, pushing open my door. “Thanks, though.”
Sierra followed me out and we walked inside, met at the door by a giant of a man.
“IDs.” We handed our IDs to him, then he glanced at us, handing them back. “You sure you’re in the right place?”
I smiled. “We’re good.”
“You run into issues, you let me know.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Moving through the crowd, we sidled up to the bar and Smiley walked over to us. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey, Smiley,” I said.
“Does Doc know you’re here?” he asked.
“What’s with everyone thinking I need to tell Doc everything?”
He smirked. “Well, you be careful.”
“We will,” I promised.
“What can I get you?”
“Shots,” I said. “Patrón, please.”
“Put it on my tab,” a guy from our left said. He was creepy looking, his slicked back hair giving him a greasy look, and I planned to stay as far away as possible.
“No, that’s okay,” I said.
“I insist.”
I sighed. “I appreciate it, but it’s really okay.”
“Bitch—”
“Don’t call her a bitch, asshole,” Sierra hissed.
“There a problem here?” a tall, sexy as fuck biker asked. He had his arms crossed, so I couldn’t see the patch on his cut, but it could say Satan’s Devils and I wouldn’t care. Lordy, he was pretty. Blond hair, a little longer on top, fell onto his forehead and drew focus to his eyes, which were almost an ice blue. He had a full beard and I ached to run my fingers through it.
“What’s it got to do with you?” Greasy demanded.
“Oh, I don’t know, Stimpy, maybe because you’re harassing my woman and she just got here.”
