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Taz’s crew.
Go time.
I pulled up my message app and shot a text to D.
Stay in the bathroom. Riders are here. I’ll get you when it’s clear.
This was Black Eagle turf, and his crew knew we were hunting him down. The fucking balls to even step foot in here.
The bartender, a man on Houston’s books looked from the crew of three to me and back before pulling his phone out and sending out a message.
No doubt to my club.
But I didn’t need them.
I stood up and grabbed a couple of fifties, more than enough for our tab and caught our waitress as she passed. “My girl’s in the bathroom,” I nodded to the crew of Riders at the bar, completely oblivious to my presence, thanks to the lack of my bike in the parking lot. “Make sure she’s safe while I chat with those boys.” I handed her the cash and she nodded knowingly.
“Sure thing, Fox.”
I walked to the bar and eyes followed me, catching onto the impending drama as the crowded bar quieted. “You here to give me some news on your President?” I called, standing a few feet behind them.
The three of them turned quickly eyeing me before looking around the bar for more Eagles.
The one I recognized as Taz’s VP licked his lips with cautious eyes, “If I had news, I could be persuaded to share it.”
I squinted my eyes at him and fought the urge to smash his face off the bar top for his stupidity. He pretended to be brave because I was alone, but we both knew he’d piss his pants if I wasn’t.
Little didheknow, he was going to piss himself before I was done with him regardless.
“Are you asking for a little incentive?” I chewed on a toothpick and then spit it out, “Because I could be persuaded to give it to you.”
His eyes flashed with fear before his buddy nudged him, physically having his back like it would fucking help him.
“Let’s have this conversation outside.” The VP said, nodding to the door behind me.
“No need, you’re going to tell me where your piece of shit President is and then you’re going to walk back out that door, unscathed.”
He smirked and his pathetic back up spit on the floor in front of my boot. I wasn’t wearing my cut, but he knew who I was, but he clearly underestimated my reputation.
A mistake he wouldn’t make again.
“Five seconds, VP.” I warned, putting my hand in my pocket, “Then I’m going to wipe the floor with your ugly faces and feed you to my dogs for breakfast.”
Dogs was a slang term for prospects in the club who needed to prove themselves for their position. They earned their patch with violence and loyalty.
“You’re outnumbered, fuck wad.” The smart mouth second sneered with a look of amusement in his eyes. “You’re all alone and you ain’t going to do shit to the three of us.” He nodded to the door, “So get on out of here.” He turned around to the bar again and smacked his hand on the top, “Get me a beer, old fuck!” He sneered at the barkeep.
The VP and the third shared a glance and decided to let their friend’s false bravado lend them bravery.
Mistake.
I grabbed a pool que from the hands of a man at the table beside me and swung it wide, cracking the wise ass on the back of the head and splitting his head wide open like a ripe melon, splintering the que into shards as he dropped like dead weight.
And then it was on.
The VP rushed me, breaking a loose beer bottle for a weapon and swung it at me, swiping for my face. I dodged it and the roundhouse kick from the third before grabbing the VP’s arm and twisting it until loud cracks sounded through the silent room. His agonized howls followed after it as I caught the thirds right hook to my cheek and grabbed the back of his head and swung him around to slam his forehead off the bar top, clearing the errant bottles and glasses with his face.
I kicked the back of his knee, dislocating it before throwing him down on the ground where he landed with his head on the brass foot bar under the stools.
