“She doesn’t have my number,” I said, not even having to think which girl he meant. Tumbleweed and the rest of the brothers started laughing hysterically, and that was when I figured out I had fucked up. There were loose lips in the clubhouse, which was why most of the brothers knew about Roxy, but only the ones at lunch had known about the car.
“When are you going to bring her around?” He shifted in his seat, getting comfortable. He’d be sorely disappointed if he thought I was going to gossip with him.
“Why would I?” I snapped. I knew no one else would say anything. Tumbleweed had his fun, and the rest of the brothers got to listen in for a few seconds. I wasn’t angry at them, knowing they only saw Roxy as a woman to conquer.
My phone started vibrating again, and the brothers thought it was the funniest thing ever. “What?” I roared, answering it.
“Seriously? I’m doing you a favor. The least you could do is say thank you. Bitch,” Aces spat back at me.
“What the fuck do you want? This better not be a social call.”
“Yeah, well, your girl has been calling the shop since you’ve been gone. Probably wants to know about her car, but hasn’t shown up to actually ask.” Aces snorted. “At least she’s not leaving messages, like the single mommies do.”
I shook my head, trying not to strangle him through the phone. Aces had a reputation for playing rough. The women in town thought he was a dom. They were always sadly mistaken when they realized he was just another asshole with a fetish, but it never stopped them from trying.
“What’s wrong with it, fuckwit?” I wasn’t a patient man, which made me good at tracking down enemies of the club, but I was out of fucks to give today, and Aces was towing a very thin line.
“Cracked radiator.”
“How bad?” I really wanted to know how much it was going to cost to fix and how long it would take him, but he was drawing this out for his entertainment.
“Not bad. She has a couple of cracks that I can fix. As long as there’s nothing serious we didn’t see, I should be able to get her out of here by the middle of next week. The five hundred you gave me from the douche will cover most of it, but she’ll still need a couple hundred more.”
I might have given him the go-ahead, but I wanted more time, telling myself it was because I didn’t have her story yet. “Nah. Tell her she blew the head gasket, and you’re going to have to order parts. You don’t know when they’ll come in.”
“Fuck,” Aces snorted. “Are you planning on keeping your new toy? Because if you’re not…”
“She’s a saloon girl, and we don’t shit where we eat.” It was the truth. As long as she worked in the saloon, she was off-limits. It was the easiest way to protect her from unwanted attention.
“Rude.” The line clicked as he hung up in my ear.
Tumbleweed leaned back on his bike. “For a man who doesn’t want a commitment, you sure are putting obstacles in her path to stay.”
I laid my arms across my handlebars, soaking in the stillness. It stretched on too long, but before I could say anything to Tumbleweed, he shot up from lying across the back of his bike. I followed his line of sight, but I couldn’t see what had caused the shift. I didn’t discredit him, though. Something had caught his attention because Tumbleweed never cried wolf.
“The ground is rumbling, and I don’t like it,” he said, pulling out the binoculars he stored in his saddlebags. I waited, along with the other brothers, knowing he had this under control, our keys ready to turn on our bikes at a moment’s notice. “The cargo trucks that we’re supposed to be escorting are back-to-back, overloaded. That’s probably why the ground is rumbling. The cartel loves us, so they don’t pay based on weight. Strictly reputation and delivery.”
“Quit dragging your boots, and spit it out.”
He hadn’t relaxed in his seat. “There are four crotch rockets following them.”
“What the fuck? Hijack?” I asked. “Those trucks are running cargo. They’re just trying to escape the taxes at the border. If they wanted the guns or drugs, they should have pulled this off at the beginning of the week.” I pulled my bandana over my mouth, preparing to raise some hell.
“I don’t know, but I plan on getting some answers. There’s more of us than them.” Tumbleweed adjusted his bandana. “If we ride straight for the trucks, they won’t see us.”
“Alright, we’re going to have to surround them.”
I didn’t believe in ghosts, the afterlife, or any of that fucking bullshit, but it looked like I might meet the Grim Reaper after all.
Fuck me.
Chapter ten
Too Old For This Shit
Cactus
Today wasn’t a fucking good day to die—unless I got to take a few motherfuckers with me. Tomorrow wasn’t fucking promising either.
