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I clicked my tongue, “At least you knew where to look.”
Her jaw dropped and we both laughed, “Thanks for the ride, Roach. I really appreciate it.”
She hefted her chin, that wide smile flashing before I closed the door and gave her a farewell wave.
I thought distance would clear my mind, but by the time I turned the ignition, I was already replaying it all in my mind. I sat there, staring at the Kids Center and cursed him all over again, before I switched it into reverse and started for home.
I needed a shower, some tea, and a day off.
The sweethearts could figure shit out at the tavern for a day, I decided.
Chapter Eleven
Good Show
Kingston
I didn’t rush back to Kal’s place. Instead, I did a lap or two around our small town. There weren’t many people in the streets despite it being nice outside. When I didn’t see anyone worth harassing, I looped back toward the tavern.
The crowd had thinned a little, allowing me to park right next to the door. I felt like I was on top of the world. And, why wouldn’t I? I was Kingston fucking Crowe. None of these bastards would step to me.
I’d be VP the minute Birdman took over…
Assuming I let him.
He was a bastard to be around when his power was unchecked. I’d suffered it as a child, when the indictments rolled in. The club had never been hit before, and he was terrified the charges would turn federal. So, he ran, dragging me and my mother out into the desert with him. I couldn’t even say where we were. Nevada? New Mexico? I was too small to be aware of such things at the time, and yet I was old enough to know the fear of God.
Well, not God. I feared Birdman more than any deity back then.
I feared death.
Mine. My mother’s. All of us on his bad days.
People talked about my coldness, but they didn’t know what cold or crazy looked like. In my own mind, I had a superpower and it wasn’t the violence I was capable of. Being terrorized as a child, made me into a man that could only be moved by the most considerable of measures.
The last time my ol’ man held a gun to my head was the day I told him to pull the trigger or stop woofing. The exchange had happened in a room full of brothers. I was patched in later that week.
I threw the backdoor of the tavern open and stepped inside, only to find it barely buzzing with life.
Preach was swigging a bottle near the window, mid conversation with my sponsor, our sergeant at arms, D-man. Rigs was parked on D-man’s knee, ever one of his favorites, even if the feeling wasn’t mutual. Preach’s sudden shift of attention caused D-man to turn and investigate. When his gaze landed on me, his lips pinched, and he finger fucked the air in a bid for me to get my ass over there.
Rigs perked up, only for him to shift his thigh and land a slap to her hip that was hard enough to send her packing.
“Get a round and then get your ass on top of that bar where I can see you.” He didn’t bother looking at her. He kicked the chair next to him out, making it clear where I was to sit.
I stared at the seat, snorted and took my time complying. He was the only one that could give me a go for my money in a fist fight. So I didn’t push too far.
Before my ass even found the cheap, cold metal of the folding chair, he grabbed just above my knee, and I swear it felt like he was about to dislocate the damn thing if he applied anymore pressure.
I let out a yell and stumped my hand against his upper arm. As I did so, something sharp and stabby bit into the top of my knee cap. I hollered all over again and grabbed the table with my free hand, staring wildly at his crazy ass.
“The fu–” Before I could finish my sentence, he quietly dropped a question of his own.
“You think you’re cute, you little twat? I’ll not stop you from riding, Kal says I can’t, but if you– Ever– Disrespect our president like that again, I’ll leave your puffed-up ass walking with a permanent limp. Got me?”
“What the f–” My pride and anger flared, but they evaporated in a blink, when he put some pressure behind that knife and a trickle of hot blood leaked down the inside of my pants. “Alright, motherfucker, alright!”
He jerked the knife up and shoved me, sending me and the metal chair sliding loudly into the wall next to him. The threat was gone, but his furious glare was still pinned on me.
