Page 61 of Off the Rails

Slamming and locking the door to the Cadillac, I swung around to the trunk and grabbed a tire iron. He was still shrieking religious woo-woo when I spun around on him, brandishing the tire iron over my head.

“You’ve got about five seconds to run,” I snarled. More than anything, I wanted to bash the asshole’s head in, to make him apologize to Tess. But I had a feeling Tess’ boss wouldn’t take kindly to me killing a patron in the parking lot.

But there are other clubs she could work at, right?

“Five… four…” Knuckles whitening around the tire iron, I lunged toward him with each number, daring him to give me an excuse.

By three, he was hightailing it back across the lot. With Nash running beside me, I chased after him. I hardly had to try to imagine how good it would feel to crack his skull and rearrange his brain.

This wasn’t our turf, though. We had someone else’s rules to play by. And before I knew it, he’d hopped into a beaten white van and peeled the fuck out of the parking lot.

I tried to get a look at the logo on the side of the van — a big blue T, or a cross maybe? — but the darkness and speed made the shape disappear in an indistinguishable blur.

I sucked in a deep breath, letting the cool night air burn my heaving lungs.

What the fuck was that?

One look at Nash told me that she had the same exact question. Her eyes flashed with the same murderous rage that coursed through every inch of my body. It wasn’t enough to scare him off. I needed to spill blood.

But Tess didn’t need that from us. Not right now.

I tried to steady my breathing as we got back into the car, but my chest still rose and fell with the beat of my furious heart. There was a long silence as I took in Tess’ face through the rearview mirror.

She was quiet, pensive in a way I hadn’t seen before. She bit her lip nervously, but there was anger in the set of her brows.

“You okay, Trinket?”

“Okay?” She scoffed. “I’m fucking fuming. What a dick.”

I blinked back my shock. I guess I expected her to be more hurt. But Tess was always surprising me.

“That guy…” Nash exhaled. “He a regular?”

“No.”

“You sure seemed ready to deal with him,” I raised my brow.

Tess just scoffed. “I mean, hazard of the job. Sometimes assholes hang around the parking lot. But…”

“But what?” I leaned toward her.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. The religious shit’s weird. Zealots don’t usually come down to Gomorrah to proselytize. A lot easier to feel holy if they stay high up on their hill.”

I knew exactly what she meant. Downtown Valemont had a bit of a reputation, even if things had become more sanitized in recent years. Not exactly fertile recruiting grounds for fire and brimstone types.

The rare times that someone spouted that shit off, they were usually completely off their rocker. But this guy had been clean-cut, completely cogent.

Something was off. Nash and Tess could both feel it.

But Tess simply leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. I’m not letting that asshole ruin the rest of my night. Let’s get going.”

Sparing me a quick glance, Nash obliged, pulling the Escalade out of the lot and taking the long route home.

As we disappeared into the night, I couldn’t shake the dread and anger still pulsing through my veins. Something was changing in Valemont — a type of anarchy that the Violence bikers couldn’t control.

35

CYRUS