Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
They noticed. They just didn’t move. The brothers with me had their backs to the situation, but as soon as I moved, they paid attention. It was the others that kill me. The ones closer to her didn’t step in. I hate this shit. Hate the bystander silence. Hate the way fear turns a room useless. The whole damn world is every man for himself these days. I’ve seen it in too many places, in too many languages, in too many ugly corners of the world.
Travel teaches you a lot. Mostly that men like that piece of shit are the same everywhere when they think nobody stronger is watching.
“You riding back to the clubhouse?” Grit asks knowing that I’m definitely done for the night.
“In a minute.”
Looney glances at me sideways. “You want me to find and tail that little sedan of hers a mile or two? Make sure she’s good?”
The offer is casual. Real. Brotherhood wrapped up in a smart-ass tone.
I consider it for half a second. Then shake my head. “No.”
Because if anyone is making sure Lucy gets home, it ought to be me. And because that thought alone is enough reason not to do it. I don’t do entanglements. Finding her would mean connection. That doesn’t work in my world. For some, they can have the old lady and family. I’m not them. That shit is reserved for men like Chux and Riot. Not me. Had a woman once, my lifestyle drove her crazy, literally. I won’t put another person through that.
Looney studies me, but he lets it drop. “Suit yourself.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen. Prez.
Of course. I answer. “Yeah.”
“You break Crystal’s table?” Straight to it.
I lean back on the stool and stare at the stained ceiling. “News travels fast.”
“You in a small town too close to home and wearin’ a patch. News travels before the dust settles.”
That earns another grin from Looney, who can somehow know both sides of a conversation without actually hearing a damn thing.
“There was a problem,” I state.
“There usually is when you’re involved.”
“A man got handsy.”
A beat of silence. Chux’s tone changes. Hardens. “Woman okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You?”
I huff a laugh. “I’m not the one that went through furniture.”
“Pity.” Another beat from Chux. “You coming back tonight?”
“Soon.”
“Try not to wreck any more property on the way.” He hangs up. I slide the phone back into my pocket.
Looney raises his brows. “Chux mad?”
“No.”
He studies me, “disappointed?”
“No.”
“Proud?”
I look at him. The kind of look that says my answer isn’t changing without me saying the words.
He shrugs. “Thought I’d keep guessing.”
I push off the stool. “I’m heading out.”
Grit snorts. “Quick change of your mind. To the clubhouse?”
I grab my cut at the edges pulling it close around me a reminder I never ride alone anymore. “Eventually.”
“Want company?” Grit asks and I shake my head. Grit tips his bottle toward me. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
That almost gets a smile out of me. “With what?”
“The woman.” Looney and Stunt answer in unison.
I bark a laugh and head for the door before anyone can say anything else.
Outside, the night air is heavy with Gulf moisture and the smell of gasoline. My bike sits under the lot light, black paint dull under a layer of road dust. She needs a wash. So do I. I swing a leg over the seat but don’t start the engine.
Instead, I sit here a moment with both hands on the bars, staring at the stretch of dark road leading out from the Black Rose Tavern.
Lucy.
The bartender said her name once, and somehow it stuck. I don’t do this. Don’t sit around wondering about women I meet in bars. Don’t replay the look on their face when I get close enough for them to smell danger on me. Don’t think about what they might be driving home to.
But she mentioned a daughter.
That hit harder than it should’ve. A kid changes things. Means responsibility. Means roots. Means some asshole ex doesn’t just get to fade off into history because he’s inconvenient. Means any trouble aimed at the mother splashes on the child too.
I don’t know why that sits so wrong in my chest, only that it does. Maybe because kids deserve better than chaos at home. Maybe because a woman shouldn’t have to face some drunken piece of shit alone while the rest of the room watches. Maybe because a woman shouldn’t experience any fear at the hands of a man, but especially not at home or on a regular basis. Maybe because she looked at me like I was both terrifying and safe, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
I start the bike. The engine rumbles to life under me, low and steady.
Normally the sound settles me. Tonight it just gives my thoughts a soundtrack.