"Oh, come on. You look like you could use some company." She put her hand on my arm, and I pulled it away before she could settle in.
"I said not tonight."
She pouted and touched me again, picking at a loose string on my cut while I sipped the drink in my hand. "Heard you went out to the track the other day."
I scowled at her out of the corner of my eye and asked, "What's it your business?" If the town bicycle knew I'd been out to watch Sara's race, who else knew? Maybe Peter's visit really was about more than I thought and he was too intimidated or polite to say it out loud.
"Oh, it's not…" She shook her head and smiled at me, walking her fingers up my bicep. "I just didn't know you were into dirt bikes. I ride sometimes. We could do a few laps if you want."
This woman couldn’t take no for an answer and it was disgusting.
I turned to look at her full in the face and said, "I told you, I'm not interested."
"You're no fun," she said and slid off the stool toward the pool tables where Rusty and Hank were setting up a game.
The bartender watched her go and then looked back at me. "You sure about that? Might improve your mood."
"Trust me. It wouldn't."
He held up both hands in surrender and chuckled. "Your call."
On any other night, I might've at least been tempted. Tonight, all I could think about were brown eyes and engine grease and the way Sara laughed when I threw a handful of grass seed and it caught in her hair.
Damn it.
I was nursing what was left of my fifth glass when the front door slammed open and folks looked up to see who'd made the racket. Lightning stomped in looking like he'd been chewing nails. His jaw was set tight and there was a scrape along his left forearm that he hadn't bothered to clean up. His cut was dusty and his boots were caked with dirt.
He looked rough—not injured rough, but like he'd been somewhere he shouldn't have been doing something that didn't go smoothly.
He stomped straight to the bar and slapped the counter. "Beer. Cold. Now."
The bartender moved faster for Lightning than he had for me, and I didn't blame him. That guy had a short fuse on his best days, and this clearly wasn't one of those. The scowl on his face had carved crevices in his forehead and a permanent wrinkle on the bridge of his nose.
Lightning downed half the beer in one pull and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he turned his eyes on me. I could feel him looking before I saw it.
"Crank."
"Lightning," I said, nodding at him. God, I wished he'd just buzz off, but he started moving toward me and I closed my eyes so he didn't see me rolling them.
He crossed the space between us and planted himself on the stool right next to me. "My bike's suspension is shot to hell. I need it fixed before nine tomorrow morning."
I took a slow sip of my whiskey before I answered. "That's a pretty tight window."
"Didn't ask if it was convenient. I said I need it done." I got a better look at that cut on his arm and it was scratched to hell. Blood had beaded and dried across his sweaty skin, and tiny grass seeds clung to it.
I set the glass down and turned on the stool to face him. "And I'm telling you, I'm not a prospect anymore. You can't just walk in here and hand me orders like I'm some kid scrubbing toilets at the clubhouse. You want your bike fixed, you ask me like a man and we work out a timeline."
His eyes narrowed. Tony was taller than me by maybe an inch, and he liked to use that full inch to try to prove he was more of a man. He leaned in just enough to make it clear he wasn't asking. "You want to talk about timelines, Crank? Alright. Let's talk about how somebody saw you out at the dirt track three days ago. You remember that?"
My stomach dropped, but I kept my face flat.
"Fox said nobody goes near those races right now. Period. There's been Locust boys running those circuits, and the last thing we need is somebody from our side starting something in public. You remember him saying that, or do I need to refresh your memory?"
I remembered. Fox had laid it down at church two weeks ago, clear as day. The Black Locusts were probably recruiting, and Fox wanted zero contact until things cooled off—no exceptions. I'd gone anyway because Sara was racing that day and because I was a damn fool who couldn't stay away from her even when I should've.
"I went for a ride," I said. "Ended up near the track. Didn't talk to anyone." I turned back to my drink and finished it, wishing there were more in the glass, but Lightning wasn't done with me yet. He grabbed my shoulder and shoved me so I was forced to turn back to him. I noticed the bartender's scowl and remembered his warning not to get in a fight. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be talking to this jerk.
"Doesn't matter, you were there. And if I bring that to Fox, you know what happens." He took another pull from his beer and set it down. "You're looking at a sit-down at best. At worst, he pulls your wrench privileges for a month and you're back on grunt work while somebody else touches the bikes. You want that?"
