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“Too much of a pussy to fight alone, prick? You called for backup?” He stretches, smiling evilly, inviting Palmer and me to come at him.
“Two on one seems unsporting,” Palmer grins. Fucker.
Shooting my best friend a dark glare, I stalk over, squaring up. I saw enough of the beating Aaron just took to know there is no skill to this guy’s fighting technique. He relies on his sheer size to subdue his opponents. Lazy asshole.
I duck the first haymaker, kicking at his knee. He stumbles, and I seize the opportunity to charge him with my shoulder, catching him off-guard in his stomach. He crashes to the ground. I get a few good kicks to the ribs before he has the sense to curl into the fetal position.
I’m sure he expected me to follow him to the ground, but that’s not smart. The dude has half a foot and at least a hundred pounds on me. A kick to his face leads to a satisfying crunching sound, blood pouring from his nostrils.
Placing my foot on his neck, I apply enough pressure for him to freeze, leaning down so he can hear me.
“I would have let you fuck him up, but you had to go and touch his cut.”
Wide, blue eyes dart to mine, and I see understanding in them. He won’t be grabbing a Wild Hawks cut any time soon, even in the heat of a fight. Pressing my foot down harder for good measure, I shove away from him, striding over and holding out my hand to Aaron.
The jerk grins as he grasps it, allowing me to haul him to his feet.
“Thanks, Merch. I owe you one.”
I glower at him, jerking my head at the door. The bartender is watching us with narrowed eyes. I think this place might need to be put off-limits to Hawks for a while. I don’t think they’d find themselves very welcome after this venture.
Nodding to the bartender, Palmer and I walk Aaron outside. He’s wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his leather jacket.
“The fucker had it coming.” Aaron starts running his mouth the second we are outside in the dry desert air. The mid-summer heat is searing
“Looks like he got the jump on you.” Palmer’s voice rings with amusement. Aaron shoots him a glare, but he’s not about to mouth off at an officer.
“I had it handled.”
“Sure you did. That’s why you called me before you started swinging,” I drawl. Aaron shrugs cockily.
“He was mouthing off. I thought it smart to call for reinforcements before I jumped the prick.”
“Stay the fuck away from this place for a least a month, Sanchez.”
Aaron glares at me, but the use of his surname reinforces my order. Shrugging again, he throws his leg over his rig.
“Whatever. I know better places to drink at anyway.”
I’m sure he does. He roars out of here as Palmer sighs, running a hand through his styled brown hair.
“You’re looking preppier every day.” I smirk at him as he flips me off.
“Fuck off, cunt. I look amazing.”
Snorting, I start my rig. “Your old lady’s a bad influence on you.”
Palmer grins, climbing onto his rig. “She’s the best thing about me.”
“No arguments there.”
He flips me off again, gunning his engine. “Coming to the clubhouse?”
He wants to go and fuck his old lady in her office. Whipped prick. I sigh, shrugging my shoulders.
“Yeah. Why the hell not.”
There’s less likely to be clingy groupies there during the day. Maybe I’ll get a decent pool game in when Palmer’s finished with his fiancée.
