She did her best to turn the biker’s attention from Shaylah, but Elias knew from experience it wouldn’t work. The other man wanted a taste and wouldn’t let it go until he got what he wanted.
He sighed. So much for arriving at Fortress early.
Shaylah continued to set the empty tables, keeping her eyes on her task as she moved from one table to the next. Although she placed silverware on the tables a distance away from the bikers, finally the only tables left to set were the ones near the bikers.
She moved to a table closer to the bikers but kept the table between her and them.
Smart girl. But it wouldn’t be enough. Elias used hand signals to warn his teammates that trouble was coming.
A scowl marred the expression on the biker’s face when he realized what Shaylah had done. He ignored Maude’s attempts to draw him into a conversation and stood. He stalked toward Shaylah.
“Go,” Seth murmured.
The five male operatives stood and walked toward Shaylah and Maude.
Maude stood with her fists on her hips. “Now, you boys leave her alone. She’s too innocent for the likes of you.”
“Maybe we like innocent young things,” another biker said, his hard gaze locked on the girl.
The older biker grabbed Shaylah’s wrist. “I’m talking to you. I don’t like chicks who ignore me.”
The girl gasped and attempted to tug her wrist out of the biker’s hand. “You’re hurting me.”
Elias grasped the biker’s wrist and squeezed hard. If the man didn’t let go, Elias wouldn’t think twice about breaking his wrist to free the girl.
The biker’s face drained of blood, and he released Shaylah in a hurry.
“Hey,” one of the biker’s friends said. “You’re asking for trouble, mister. Let go of our president.”
Ah. Should have known from his arrogant attitude. “What’s the name of your club?”
“Nightwatch. Mister, you don’t want us for an enemy.”
“What we don’t want is for you and your buddies to mess with the ladies kind enough to serve you an excellent breakfast and great coffee.” He leaned closer to the president. “And you’re supposed to set an example for your younger members.” Elias changed his wrist hold to one more excruciating. “Is this how you want them to act in public?”
Perspiration dotted the president’s face. He shook his head.
“I didn’t think so.” Elias smiled. “You gentlemen look like you’re finished. Maude has your tickets ready at the register. Go settle your bills, and be sure to leave the ladies a nice tip.”
“Let’s go.” The man’s voice sounded strained as he waved his men to the register.
Once all the men had paid, except the president, Elias released him, anticipating retaliation from the leader.
The president stepped past Elias, then spun on his heel with a roundhouse punch aimed at the jaw.
Elias sidestepped just enough for the punch to breeze past his face, caught the wrist, and twisted the president’s arm behind his back. He shoved the man’s face onto the tabletop, ignoring the sharp pain of protest from his own shoulder wound. “Dumb move,” he murmured and torqued the arm up higher. Just a little more and he’d break the man’s arm. “You’re making yourself look like a fool, Prez. Unless you want a broken arm, you’ll pay your bill like an honest biker, leave the restaurant, and go on your way to your next destination. Am I making myself clear?”
Prez clenched his teeth and nodded.
“Good. The last thing you want to do is give your men a reason to doubt your leadership ability. Show them that real men protect those who are weaker.”
Elias released him and stepped back, watching every move Prez made. This time, however, the man walked to the register, paid his bill, and signaled his men to follow him out.
As soon as the bikers rode away from the parking lot, he cupped his shoulder and sat in the nearest chair with a groan. Pain radiated from his shoulder through the rest of his body. Man, gunshot wounds hurt. He’d had enough of them to last a lifetime.
Violet crouched beside him. “Did you pop the stitches?”
“I don’t think so. The shoulder hurts pretty bad, though.”
