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Zag turned back to the bar. “You ever going to make a move on her or just keep watching her from a distance like a creep?”
“I’m keeping an eye on her. You two assholes forget there is a serial killer out there who is targeting chicks connected to the club?” I reminded them.
“Come on,” Zag complained. “Hero just saved Reva from some psycho. For all we know, that guy is behind the other girls dying.”
“I bet it is that guy. What are the odds that we got two wacked-in-the-head psychos in town? We barely got a population over four thousand,” Zig pointed out.
“Is there, like, some guide of how many psychos you can have in a certain area?” I asked.
Zig shrugged. “I’m just saying I don’t think we need to worry anymore. Reva’s neighbor was the psycho killing chicks. Maybe she was next, but Hero saved her?”
I shook my head. “It’s not the same guy. This guy had a hard-on for Reva, who, before a couple of weeks ago, did not have a connection to the club. Your theory isn’t right.”
Indiana sat silently on the couch, just listening to the women talking. She never really was one to jump in and lead a conversation, but something seemed off about her. Her pitch-black hair laid tousled on her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed pink.
I had fought back the urge to follow her outside before, but something in my gut told me I should have. I always had a feeling in my gut when it came to Indiana. The first time I saw her at the club, my heart had dropped to my feet, and I couldn’t rip my eyes away from her.
Sure, she was fucking beautiful, but there was something more that called to me. Something that made me want to wrap her in my arms and never let her go. I had never felt something like that before and had tried to write it off as me just being really attracted to her.
Except, the feeling hasn’t gone away.
Two years and counting.
Still wanted to wrap her in my arms and never let go.
“Bro, you gotta break contact for a bit.” Zag smacked my shoulder. “You’re even creeping me out.”
I sighed, turned my back to Indiana, and grabbed the beer Zig had set in front of me. “I’m just making sure she’s okay.”
Zig grabbed a tall glass and filled it with two fingers of Southern Comfort. “Well, I may not be seeing what you’re seeing, but I think she’s okay.”
“Well, shit,” Zag grumbled. “King is headed this way.”
Zig dropped some ice into the glass and grabbed some bitters. “Probably because he told me to bring him a drink ten minutes ago.”
“Fucking hell,” I mumbled under my breath. Only Zig would make the prez of the Knights wait for his fucking drink.
King moved next to me and leaned against the bar. “That mine?”
Zig finished the drink with some old-fashioned mix and a squirt of 7-up. Only Zig would make an old fashioned so ass-backward. He dropped two cherries into it and slid the glass toward King. “Made special just for you.”
King eyed the glass warily. “Why does it feel like I need a taste tester before I try this?” he muttered.
“Not it!” Zag hollered.
“I would question if you’re really from Wisconsin, Zig, but I was there when your mama had you, so I just gotta assume no one ever showed you the proper way to make an old fashioned.” King grabbed the glass and swirled the liquid around slowly. “I suppose it’s almost the right color,” he hummed. He took a sip and tipped his head to the side.
“Bad?” Zig asked cautiously.
King took another sip and set the glass down. “That has to be one of the best old fashioneds I’ve ever had in my life.”
Zig slapped his thigh and gave a shout. “Hell yeah!”
“I wouldn’t be too happy about that, though,” King laughed. “Now, you’re the one who’s always going to be behind the bar.”
“And as soon as Meg and Cyn catch wind that you make a killer old fashioned, you might as well just pitch a cot back there.” King pointed at the glass. “How the fuck did you do that?”
Zig shrugged. “I don’t know. Just poured the shit in and called it good.”
