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“What the hell is going on?” She asked as she inspected his face, then snapped her head towards us and sneered, “Get the hell out of my house.”
“We will, but first, he needs to answer our question,” Savage said as he leaned against the wall.
“He doesn’t have to answer a damn thing. Get out or I’m calling the cops,” the woman snapped at us. What was this? Bitch Woman Week or some shit? First, it was the woman in the diner, and now this broad?
Lincoln snorted and said, “You go right ahead and call the cops. We’ll wait. Besides, your man there will be going to prison for attempted murder.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Attempted murder? Get the fuck out.”
I’d had enough at that point. Storming toward him, I grabbed his t-shirt in my fist and slammed him into the wall, ignoring the fact that his head slammed into a picture frame as glass shattered from it.
“You remember driving by Maggie’s diner? Do you remember a biker in front of you at the four-way stop? Do you remember honking your horn?” I asked through gritted teeth and watched as his face paled.
I chuckled, “Ahh, so you do remember?”
The woman wasn’t sneering at us anymore but softly she said, “I’m calling the cops.”
I ignored her and glared at the man, “I didn’t pay attention to the road like I should have because you honked your horn. Did you not see the woman that was walking across the crosswalk? Did you know that she is pregnant? So not only will you go to jail for attempted murder for her but also for that of her unborn child.”
“That’s on you, you should’ve been paying attention,” he said, trying to save face.
I shrugged, “Possibly, but I've done time already, not afraid to go back. But you see, the difference is, I didn’t flee the scene as you did.” I jerked him back and then slammed him into the wall for that alone. I only had to do thirty days in county for a bullshit seat belt charge but this motherfucker didn’t need to know.
“What kind of motherfucker are you that you don’t even ask if she is okay and if she lost the baby?” I asked and spit on him. “Fucking piece of shit.”
“You need better taste in men,” Savage told the woman as he walked out of the house followed by Lincoln and Heathen.
I turned to her and said, “For your information, no, she didn’t lose the baby. But had she? I would’ve painted this whole house in his blood and then sat on the front porch steps and waited for the cops to show up. Your man can’t say the same.”
It was two hours later when I walked into my house with my brothers at my back, and I made a beeline to get my eyes on Savannah.
She was curled up on the couch with a cute as fuck light pink blanket wrapped around her.
Lil stepped over to me and whispered, “Take care with her, Zeke. I know she didn’t tell us everything, but it was bad. We really like her.”
I nodded, “Thanks, Lil. Means a lot.”
I gave the women one-armed hugs and then back-slaps to my brothers.
It was ten minutes later after I made myself a plate of food that they had fixed and called out, “Angel, you hungry?”
“No, thank you. I ate earlier. You have a plate keeping warm in the oven,” she called out.
I looked down at the plate I had made, and did I eat that plate? Fuck no.
But I called out, “Who made it for me?”
She was quiet for a few minutes, and I waited.
Then I heard her timid reply, “I did. If you don’t like something, I’m sorry. I’ll learn for next time.”
At those words, I wanted to find that son of a bitch and slam my fist into the fucker’s face. That was going to be fun.
So, on hearing that she made it, I wrapped foil around the plate I had made and stuck it in the fridge.
Then I opened the oven door, carefully took that plate out, took off the foil, and had to smile. It was almost identical to the one I made for myself, but with bigger helpings.
Grabbing a beer for me and a water for her, I headed into the living room.
