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"You're an asshole," I tell him again, shoving the helmet at him. He takes it, locking it away and ignoring me.
I follow him to the room, watching him unlock the door with a key.
We walk in, and I look around the room, the familiar set up reminding me of old times.
"Drink?" he asks, kicking off his boots and putting his helmet on a tiny table with his keys.
"Sure. It sounds like I'll be needing hard liquor."
He opens the same bar fridge, pulling out a beer. "Sorry to disappoint then. You'll have to make do."
I take the beer from him, popping open the top. In the corner of the room, there's a stain covered chair and I make my way, sitting on it with my legs tucked under my ass.
"So, what brings you to my humble town?" I ask sarcastically.
Blake grabs one of the steel chairs from the tiny dining table, swinging it to face me. He sits down, crossing his leg over his knee.
"Do you want the blunt answer or the sugar coated option?" he asks.
Ah, fuck. I'm going to kill Zayn. Or Asher. Whoever opened their big fat mouths.
I shrug, hiding the slight wave of panic rushing through me. "I've never been much of a fan of sugar. Easier to just cut the bullshit and spit out."
Blake nods. "You're possibly in danger."
I pause mid-drink, looking at him with confusion. "Danger?"
Okay. Maybe he doesn't know?
His eyes narrow, like he's assessing me. I can't tell if he's annoyed, or if his face is just permanently like that.
"Your little stunt at the bar has ruffled some feathers."
I gape at him. "My stunt? You're the one who turned up at my work."
He sighs. "Not here, you daft idiot. At Wheels."
Oh.
"What do you mean?" I question quickly, the panic turning into something very real.
Blake brings his beer to his lips, taking a sip. "The bikers are pissed at you. Word is going around town that they are looking for you."
"What?" I stutter out, a drop of beer spilling onto my leg. "I didn't do anything!"
"They don't see it like that. You insulted them, and they have bruised egos. Dangerous combination."
I put my beer down, not trusting my hand as my arm shakes. "This is ridiculous. All I did was win a hand in poker. He held a gun to my face, and they have attacked me… twice!"
Blake's face relaxes a bit, his eyes softening as he takes in my growing panicked state. "I know. The thing about these men though, they are misogynistic. They wouldn't have taken kindly to the fact a woman beat them, let alone the fact that when they tried to get 'revenge' twice, it's been foiled both times."
"How do you know about the first time?" I ask quietly.
He gives me a tight smile. "That young bartender at Wheels filled me in. Apparently the day I stopped them, wasn't the first."
"No, it wasn't," I mutter, looking away.
Blake puts his beer down on the table. "Rylee. It pains me to say this… but it wasn't your fault. It doesn't mean this isn't very real, but I didn't mean it when I said you caused it. These men are assholes."
