“You can’t fucking touch me,” Rooster said, his cheek smashed against brick.
Cueball looked back and forth, fists balled and ready for action.
“You know the rules. Get your asses home,” Ka-Bar warned.
Rooster stood up and shook out his leather jacket. “Don’t forget who you’re fucking with. Razor’s gonna hear about this.”
My cheeks burned. I dug my fake nails into my palms to keep from clawing their eyes out.
“Big mistake.” Cueball spat on the ground as they made their way toward their rides. When he was a safe distance from Ka-Bar, he shouted something about me being a cocktease.
I picked up the stool Ka-Bar had been sitting on and lifted it over my head, fully intending on nailing the suckers as they hightailed it out of there.
“Easy girl.” He grabbed me around the waist, pulling me back out of sight. He ripped the stool out of my tense grip.
“Just one good smack. Teach ‘em a lesson.” I glared after them until their rumbling engines were out of earshot.
Ka-Bar rubbed my shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas, Short Fuse.”
Set one bike on fire and suddenly you had a reputation. Okay so maybe I had been thinking about setting them on fire. If I couldn’t do that I’d whack ‘em with a stool.
“Mother clucker,” I swore under my breath.
Ka-bar raised an amused eyebrow at me.
“I’m trying this new thing where I don’t swear as much. And come on, he’s Rooster. It’s funny.”
“I sure miss your crazy antics.” He shook his head. “Get in. You’re shivering.”
Making him smile helped ease my tension but my fingers still trembled as I ran them through my hair. I should be used to this behavior from men. I’d been ogled since thirteen when my natural Ds sprouted overnight. Still, it was nice to have Ka-Bar around when men got ugly. Not all the Iron Wraiths were so bad.
Inside, bass thumped through my chest to “Bad Girls” by M.I.A. All around, girls in thongs and bikini tops served drinks, danced, and ground themselves on the customers. The air was heavy with smoke so thick the dim lights created a reddish halo on each table. It took shampooing my hair twice after every shift to get the smell out. The vibe here was dirtier than the Pink Pony but guaranteed a good time for the right price. My palms tingled as I made my way through the crowd toward Occum's office. Busy was good. Busy meant more money and hopefully a good mood.
I was about to bust into the main office when a loud bang through the door made me jump. It had sounded like a fist slamming down on the desk. Occum did that a lot when he got worked up. I was very familiar with that sound.
“That’s not gonna work,” Occum growled.
Whoever was in there was doing fine work pissing him off. I shot a quick glance over my shoulder to see if anybody was coming. His office was way in the back where the music hardly reached so hopefully nobody would catch me being nosey. I tiptoed closer to the door in between a stack of lumber and a stepladder.
“The work you laid out doesn’t align with what you detailed in this report. When you’ve updated the blueprints to show the true structural changes being made, I’ll review the site again. If the work is satisfactory at that point, then I’ll sign off on the structural modifications.” The voice was calm, not as deep as Occum's but smoother, and oddly confident considering it sounded like Occum was two seconds from steaming out his ears. There was something about it that caused a tiny shiver to go down my spine. It was flat but rich. There was no catch at the end of his sentences like he was asking a question the way most folks talked around here.
He was a Yankee.
Color me intrigued. I moved closer to listen. This man better be careful. One, because Occum was likely to get violent and two, I didn’t want him getting my boss all riled up. Not now.
“Those changes’ll cost a hundred grand easy,” Occum spoke dangerously slow.
“At least,” the stranger responded.
The office chair creaked and I pictured Occum leaning back, staring at the ceiling with fists clenched behind his head.
“How much is this going to cost me?” Occum asked.
There was a slight pause. “I believe you just estimated. Though to be honest that sounds on the low end to me. You’re cutting corners. Or you could just update the blueprints to reflect the actual changes being made and add a few safety precautions like—”
“How. Much. Do. You. Want?”
There was another pause. My ear now pressed flat against the door.
