And willingness to cause pain.
Saint stepped forward, getting in the guy’s space. He lifted the paper with the number to eye level. “My president wants to talk to your boss. When we call, and we’ll fucking call, someone better fucking answer. And they better be able to get us to your boss. This is our town, as it always has been. One of your shit stains fucked with my president’s daughter.”
The guy’s eyes flared as a small smirk quirked his lips up on one side.
Saint let the fury he’d felt when one of these guys approached Beth resurface. “It pissed our president off.”
And it pissed Saint off.So. Fucking. Much.
“Was it you? You Demo?”
The guy waggled his eyebrows, and Saint nearly attacked. Only the need to impress his club superiors kept him from launching himself at the man.
“Our president is not someone you want on your bad side. So now he wants to chat. Understand?”
Tension in the room ratcheted to near bursting as Demo’s jaw worked back and forth. No doubt he was struggling to rein in the temper that wanted to burst forth. As the four of them staredin silence, Saint readied his muscles for an attack. He wiggled his fingertips ever so slightly, prepared to curl his hands into fists the second the situation went south.
A loud washing machine buzzer went off, making all of them jolt as though electrocuted.
The attendant made a choking sound.
Mav squeezed their new friend’s shoulder. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, then laughed. “That’ll wake you up. So whatcha say, pal? You gonna pass along the message, or we all gotta pull out our dicks and start measuring?” He cupped a hand around his mouth, jerked his other thumb in Saint’s direction, and said in the loudest whisper possible, “I’ve heard this guy here has a monster in those jeans. I wouldn’t test it.”
“Mav, shut the fuck up.” Zach’s scold lost its effect as soon as Saint saw the way he failed to keep from laughing.
“Fine,” Demo spat out, literally hocking on the floor as he spoke. “I’ll pass it on, but I fucking promise we’re not going anywhere. My boss doesn’t scare easily, and he likes it here. I’d plan on getting used to us.”
“Keep telling yourself that, man,” Mav said, slapping his shoulder. “Gentlemen, our work here is done. Let’s fucking get the hell outta this shithole. Smells like musty clothes.” He leaned to see around Saint. “Might wanna check some of those washers for mold, buddy,” he called to the attendant.
Zach rolled his eyes as he rested Louie on his shoulder and strode toward Maverick. “You’re such a fucking troublemaker.”
Saint followed without another glance at the guy. Just as Mav reached the door, the guy called out. “And say hi to Copper’s daughter for me. I enjoyed our time the other day.”
Saint froze.
The world narrowed to a single point—that smug fucker’s face. Heat flooded his chest, spreading outward until his skin felttoo tight to contain the violence churning beneath it. His hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles ached.
Zach whipped around and grabbed him by the sleeve before he had a chance to whirl on this piece of shit and snuff the life out of him.
“Don’t,” Zach muttered.
Saint couldn’t hear him.
Beth’s face flashed in his mind.
“I said,don’t.” Zach hauled him outside.
The fucking bell chimed gleefully overhead.
“He’s fucking with you, and you know it. Beth didn’t go looking for him, and he didn’t do anything more than grab her arm.”
Yeah, because some random car drove by and interrupted whatever the fuck he had planned.
Saint shook off Zach’s hold and stormed across the parking lot toward his bike. This fucker signed his death warrant the second Beth’s name fell from his lips. Saint didn’t care what it cost him. His patch, his standing, his fucking life. Anyone who threatened her would bleed.
“Fill me in,” Copper said as soon as they approached.
Zach did, thankfully, because Saint was seething too hard to recount it without losing his shit. Copper’s frown deepened as he processed Zach’s tale.
