I laughed again, the drunken sound louder than the music. “Do and I’ll kill . . . kill,” I stopped and thought, the shine rushing through me. “Right. I’ll kill you. Like I did Clarisse Warhammer.”
Laughter from feminine throats joined mine, burbling up around me. Drool pooled under my cheek. “Jagger’s . . . mine.”
“I got that loud and clear.”
On the speakers, an ancient song by some country singer came on. And I knew Jolene was listening in, playing her namesake song. I closed my eyes and gave in to the pain.
???
Toward midnight, the Sisters were finishing inking me. My back was bandaged in those special oversized military bandages meant to cover large burns. My chest was draped in my hooded shirt except for above my left boob, as Tomika’s hands covered that in bandages.
Despite my nanos, I was, for once, drunker than hell. I figured my nanos had been too busy working on the tat damage and the ink under my skin—which also contained my blood and nanobots, and had to confuse the heck out of all of them—to pay attention to a little liquor. A lot of liquor.
The noise in the bar had risen, and I could pick out a raucous darts game, arm wrestling, several heated discussions bordering on arguments, one about politics, one about music and the “country shit coming over the speakers,” and one about the best breed of dog. Over all of them, that one was loudest and growing louder. Rotts, Pitties, and Cane Corsos were at the top of the list.
“Not everybody surrendered weapons at the door, did they?” I asked Tomika.
“Guns yes. Knives, no.”
“Bloody hell. I’m about to have a knife fight, on opening day, aren’t I?”
Tomika untied my feet with quick pulls.
I stretched my strained arms and slid into the oversized shirt I’d held against me. It was black, so it wouldn’t show the blood or bandages, and it was thick enough to hide boobs. I pulled it over my head and down my body without flashinganyone and let Tomika help me sit upright on the tabletop. As she lifted me, I groaned and said, “Tomika, who’s paying you for your work?”
“Bengal took up an offering. I get paid up front or I don’t work.”
I rolled my head without moving my shoulders and spotted Bengal at the best table in the house, against the back wall in the corner, sitting with other presidents and VPs, playing poker. I gave Bengal a thumb’s up, and he grinned back, flicking his eyes around the room in what might be a warning. I followed the direction his eyes had taken.
Men were yelling over the music, drunk and rowdy; the officers and enforcers were ignoring their men. The MCs pushing boundaries? Probably. Seeing if I could maintain order on neutral ground, after being branded by my “boyfriend” and inked over a high percentage of my body surface.Bloody lovely.
As the music selection changed, one voice rose over the others. “I’ll show you a dog.” I heard an impact and the yowl of a cat. Someone had kicked a junkyard cat. I felt the knowledge shoot through Spy’s connection to me.
The cat’s vision filtered over mine, overlaying the room from her perspective in greens and silvers. She was staring at a man in an HA kutte. One chapter house. No kills, no war patches. The new guy. The cat kicker was standing, fists bunched, shouting.
As the opening to an all-out brawl intended to test my ability to enforce my Rules of Entry, they’d started with a cat kicker. Rules of Entry number fourteen stated, “Damaging cats or dogs will result in forfeit of the biker’s ride.” Meaning I got his bike, whatever it was. I was betting it was piece of crap, since it was about to be taken away. I was also betting they hadn’t read the rules thoroughly as they entered.
Tomika said into my ear, “We about to see trouble.”
“Tomika, you and the Sisters who inked us go shower and wash clothes,” I said fast. “Take a three minute shower, gratis, for services rendered.”
“Damn fine tip.”
“I’m sweet that way.”
“Yeah. I can see you a lollipop.” She fist bumped my shoulder, not quite missing the bandages. I winced. She laughed, mostly at my wince. “You trying to get rid of us, ain’tcha?” she asked.
“No need to get caught in the crossfire.”
She packed up her gear efficiently, and the Sisters of the Cross vacated the building. Two fighters were making feints at each other and it didn’t look staged. I tapped my morphon as I swept my gaze across the room, taking in everything in an instant.
There was blood on three tables. Not a lot, since none of us bled much, but still.
Cats were everywhere, including sitting on the tables, licking the blood off.
My liquor stock was down considerably, but there was a stack of cash and new trade items ringed the bar.
Some kind of screaming-guitar rock and roll came on the speakers.
