“Sucks to be you, bitches. Are we at the beatdown yet? I need to release some tension.” Aces jumped up to sit at the end of the bar, swinging his feet and cracking his knuckles.
“What the fuck did you do to our bikes?” one of the Disciples brothers growled.
It didn’t surprise me they were more concerned about their bikes. They had the prospects wash them more often than the brothers actually bathed.
“It’s now past five, and you’re not patronizing a business, so the sheriff had you towed from the visitors’ lot. Unfortunately, you’ll have to camp in the desert because the office will be closed by the time you get out of here.” A snicker from the Saints floated around the room.
In my experience, most bikers gave off a dangerous air, but I hadn’t been afraid. Once I gave the impression I wasn’t interested, they left me alone. It wasn’t until Williams that it changed. The Bear Canyon Disciples were dangerous men, but they often used their numbers to bully their way, and I was now their focus. However, the Saints made them look like chumps.
Scorpion grabbed a chunk of Ripper’s hair, forcing him to stand. “There’s a clause in the paperwork that says we’re not responsible for any damage that occurred during the tow, so when you find that big scratch in your paint, no, you didn’t.”
He let him go, kicking him in the stomach on the way down. “Here’s how this is going to go, so you fucks better listen up,” he addressed the room, getting distracted when his eyes scanned over to Angelica behind the bar. Marching through the soda on the floor, he stood in front of her. “Butterfly, don’t even think about it.” He smirked.
“I’m going to have to close tomorrow, thanks to these fuckwits.” She swiped one of her bangs away from her eyes.
“You know I’m going to take care of it.” He patted her cheek, but her eyes were still blazing. “Trust me.”
“Fuck you.” She raised the soda gun level with his chest as she flicked the button.
“Is the kitchen cleaned up?” He ignored her, letting his hand caress the apple of her cheek.
She shook her head. The cooks had been switching over from lunch to dinner when the club had stormed through the front door.
“You’re done here. Take the staff out back. They’ve got the day off tomorrow—with pay.”
She started to argue but stopped herself. Nothing she would say would change any of this.
“No, I’ll take care of it. Go.” He patted her cheek again before prying the soda gun from her hand. Laying it on the bar, he held her hand, lacing their fingers together as he led her towards the bar gate. Picking it up, he let her walk in front of him with her head held high.
I met her in the middle of the dining room, holding out my hand. She locked our fingers together, giving me some of her strength, but when we passed Slick, lying on the floor, she stopped. Pulling her leg back, she landed a kick to his stomach before we made our way to the back of the dining room. It didn’t do any damage, but I swore I saw a smirk on her lips.
When the kitchen door closed behind us, the sounds of a fight floated through the crack in the door. I could only guess how much damage Angelica was going to incur—all because I had been nice to a kid.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. This was all my fault. I’d put it off long enough. I needed to go check on my car so that nothing like this would happen again. Angelica had given me an opportunity, and I had repaid her with blood on the walls and broken furniture.
“Don’t fucking say that. You didn’t know they were going to behave like Neanderthals.” She hugged Bri before ushering us out the back door of the saloon. “At least one good thing happened today.” She smiled. “I’m getting the renovations I’ve been hounding Scorpion for.”
“Dad doesn’t always keep promises,” Bri whispered, but Angelica ignored it.
If I had stayed forgettable, none of this would have ever happened.
***
Cactus
Eights had said nothing else, and I didn’t bother texting him back. I wasn’t interested in hearing what had happened from him. If I asked, he would tell me, but I wanted to hear it from her. The need to call her rode my ass as we sat down in the warehouse for dinner.
The brothers took their sweet time eating, and I would have offended our hosts if I rushed them. I tried to make enough small talk not to be noticed, but the girls had picked their favorites. They sat on laps, trying to feed the brothers for attention. It wasn’t until I caught the back of a head with short raven hair, nuzzling the neck of a brother, that I had to bury my anger. It wasn’t her, but that need cranked up another notch.
We headed out with our payment a couple hours later, driving down toward the Mexican border. Another hour of pretending the open road fixed everything. Tomorrow wouldn’t be any different. Just another wasted day, burning gas and pretending I gave a shit. I’d end up doing this all over when Scorpion found another excuse.
I was rolling out my sleeping bag inside one of the pop-up tents we rented when a shadow crossed over me. “Can I help you?” I snapped, looking over my shoulder. Cowboy boots—Tumbleweed. He was the only brother who refused to wear regular shitkickers.
“Hey, brother.” He squatted next to me, his arm brushing mine as he laid it on his thigh. “Is she alright?”
“How would I know?” I asked him. I pushed him over in the dirt, but he just popped back up into a squat. Tumbleweed was resilient. It didn’t matter how many times he got steamrolled. Fucker always stood up. “How do you know?”
“You didn’t answer Eights, so he wanted to know if you were alright.”
