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Brewer’s hands curled into fists. It wasn’t uncommon in the club world, but Macha’s men would never do such a thing. It was against everything they stood for. Women were revered, not abused in their club.
“Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head and ate another chip. “No, thank goodness. An older guy, the club treasurer I think, pulled him off me and I escaped. Haven’t had anything to do with MCs since. Until Jupiter and Rubble came into my restaurant.”
Brewer put aside the need to smack this Grant guy’s dumbass face in for the moment. He’d find out more when the time was right. “How does Shovelhead fit into this?”
Delphi took a breath. “Before I left the cantina that night, I overheard a group of bikers talking about taking over a local club. They didn’t mention which one, but I saw who was talking. His cut said Shovelhead.”
The pieces fell into place for Brewer. If Shovelhead was talking with the Cutthroats about anarchy against Macha last summer, the rest of the year made perfect sense. Shovelhead was behind Isa’s abduction, albeit with the help of an Irish biker club, and he had an easy fallback club, the Cutthroats, when his plan failed.Then he tried again.
The chips in his mouth tasted like ash, the salsa souring his stomach. He never expected the depravity to go so deep so fast. Without a doubt, Shovelhead had tried time and time again to rid Macha of their president so he could seize the club in a hostile takeover.
Meeting Delphi’s uneasy eyes, he reached over and gently grasped her hand. “I’m sorry that happened to you. If I’d known, I never would’ve brought you here, I swear.”
She nodded, but the fear wasn’t gone from her gorgeous face. It killed him to see his normally feisty girl so shaken. “Thanks. I’m just glad I made it out.”
“Well, if you ever—and I mean ever—see the guy who tried to hurt you, call me. I don’t care what time it is, or even if you’re in Hong Kong.” He squeezed her hand. “Call me, and I’ll come beat the shit out of him. All of Macha will.”
A smile spread across her face, making her look five years younger in an instant. “Thanks, Brewer. That’s really sweet of you.”
He pulled back as the waitress approached with their food. “Wasn’t meaning for it to be sweet, girl. Nobody goes after a woman from our town without consequences.”
The waitress placed their food in front of them before hurrying to the next table. They both dug into their plates. Brewer was grateful that she confided in him, even if only a little. It was a start, and he could work with that. Delphi was one of a kind and exactly what he needed more of.Now the hard part. Convincing her that I’m what she needs too.
CHAPTER10
DELPHI
The Rusty Cantinabrought back a flood of memories the instant she stepped foot in the establishment. Delphi wasn’t sure why she expected to go somewhere other than another club’s bar. Her apprehension didn’t last long. Brewer had a way of making her feel safe that was brand-new for her. It scared the hell out of her.Of all men to give you the warm fuzzies, you had to choose this one.
She wiped up the small mess on the table her enchilada had made. Eating always resulted in messiness. It was the one thing she could count on in life.
“I’m going to chat with the bartender.” Brewer stood and placed enough cash to cover the bill on the table. “Will you be all right here?”
Delphi pressed her lips into a thin line. “I can take care of myself.”
He leaned over and tucked her hair behind her left ear. “Just because you can doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Not here, spitfire.” He glanced around the bar that was slowly filling with Greenback Cutthroats. “If they think you’re alone, they won’t hesitate to come over here.”
“Pretending I’m with you will protect me?” she scoffed, hoping he heard the sarcasm dripping from her words.
“Youarewith me today, Delphi.” Brewer wiggled his brows. “Unless you beg for more time.”
She ignored his last tease, and Brewer walked away. Delphi couldn’t stop her eyes from following his fine ass as he made his way to the bar. The bartender, a man in his late forties, jutted his chin toward Brewer. He cast one last blue-eyed look at her, making sure she was safe before ducking behind the bar and following the other man.
She pulled out her phone and checked for any new messages. Peter had texted, updating her about his mother’s condition and saying he’d be in as soon as he could. Worry filled her stomach. Running her own business was a struggle this month.
One minute blurred into ten. The speakers pumped out music compatible with the cantina, but it was louder now than it had been when they arrived. She glanced over to where Brewer had disappeared again, tempted to retrace his footsteps and see exactly where he went.
Telling him about her club past was easier than she anticipated. Something about Brewer made her want to tell him everything, even if it hurt.It’s his eyes.It has to be.They were sky blue, their depths digging into her soul with every glance.
“Can I get you anything else, hon?” the waitress asked, removing the plates from the table and stuffing the cash in her apron pocket.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Your man coming back, or did he leave you to fend for yourself?”
