I shoulder through the door just in time to see Viper slam the girl against the desk. She yelps, and in four big steps, I’m across the room, gripping Viper’s shoulder and spinning him around.
“What the fuck?” Viper does a double take. “Deuce?”
“That’s right, fucker, it’s me.” I pull him further from the girl. “Doesn’t look like you learned any manners while I was away.”
He throws the girl a dirty look. “Fuckin’ bitch is lying to me.”
The girl pushes off the desk, all fire and spit. “I’m not lying.” She gets up in Viper’s face. “I’m just not saying what you want to hear.”
Fuckin’ amazing. She almost got her teeth knocked out, and she’s still ready to fight.
“When the fuck did you get out?” Viper asks.
“Just in time to tell you to go back to Philly where you belong.”
“Still a fuckin’ wiseass.” He grins, and I’m tempted to knock that gold tooth right out of his mouth. “But maybe you haven’t heard, the Kings are dead.”
I rush him backwards until his back hits the wall. “Maybe you haven’t heard, fucker, I’m back, and the Kings are back, and we don’t want any Dogs shitting in our territory.”
“Don’t bullshit me. The other Kings don’t want nothing to do with you since you sold out to a Fed.” He shakes his head. “You got nothing, and you know it.”
“You don’t know shit.” I slam him against the wall again for good measure, then heave him across the room.
He catches his balance on the desk, then spins to face me, and I gear up for another fight. I expected to take shit from my brothers, but mixing it up with Viper would be an added bonus.
“You’re fuckin’ with the wrong club,” Viper spits out.
“You threatening me?” I hiss out a low laugh. “‘Cause as I remember it, the Dogs were pussies five years ago, and it looks to me,” I let my eyes rake over him, “like nothing’s changed.”
“You better watch your back, Deuce, ‘cause this ain’t over.”
I spread my arms wide. “I’ll be waiting for you along with the rest of the Kings, so keep your sorry asses outta AC. Better yet, stay in that shit-hole Philly and outta Jersey.”
Viper growls, upends the desk and storms out of the room. The piece-of-shit desk crumbles into a pile of rotted wood.
I turn to the girl, but I can’t read her expression. Pissed off? Agitated? Frustrated? Definitely not scared.
“Well, thanks for making a bad situation worse.” She storms past me, steps around the broken desk, and out the door.
Okay, pissed off, but why at me?
I follow her out of the office, and she heads straight behind the bar. In one quick move, she uncaps a bottle of crap, generic vodka and fills a short glass halfway, then she takes a big gulp, staring at me the whole time.
Miraculously, she doesn’t choke, spit or sputter, and I gotta say I’m impressed. Sure, I can slug booze too, but that shit she’s drinking is only a little better than lighter fluid, and it’ll burn your throat out.
She takes another hit, and I cock my head. “You gonna drink all of that?”
“Why? ‘Cause it’s only noon, and it’s too early for vodka?”
“Nah, you can get your drink on whenever you want.” I come around the bar and search the shelves. It looks like the good stuffis gone, and all that’s left is the shit liquor nobody drinks. I move a few bottles around, and hiding in the back is a full bottle of Blanton’s.
“But why the hell are you drinking that shit when you could be drinking this?” I hold up the bottle of bourbon. “At least this won’t rot your insides.”
Her eyes narrow. “My father’s favorite.”
Again she mentioned her father, but it sure wasn’t in a loving father/daughter way. More like “I hated the bastard, and I don’t need any reminders of him.” Which I totally get, but somehow I always had a vision that daughters automatically loved their fathers.
I twist the cork, it gives a satisfying pop, then I find two freshly washed glasses, fill each with two fingers of the amber liquor, and push one glass in front of her. The whole time, she’s watching my movements like a lion who’s been caged, or someone’s who’s been locked up.
