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“Not hungry anymore, huh?”
I rose from the booth quickly, downing the rest of the lukewarm water. Standing up in front of Kate, I’d almost forgotten how much my presence overpowered her.
“Lost my appetite.”
When she had nothing else to say, I turned my back to the diner and let myself out. I was confused. Why bring Kate back into my life if she’s just going to shut me out?
I walked slowly round the back to where I’d parked my bike, my head spinning. I was starving now, more than ever… But the hunger inside me wasn’t just aching for food.
If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, I can’t force it… Maybe I’ll give this another shot tomorrow night.
A few quick revs of the engine, and I was good to go. I knew the truth. I was going to ride away from this place and never come back. Maybe this wasn’t my goddamned destiny. Maybe Kate was put in my way to test my faith and make me stray from my true path.
I wanted to give one last bitter, forlorn glance to my old lover before she passed out of my life again – this time probably for good.
Bringing the bike around the side, I slowly rolled by the glass floor-to-ceiling windows.
What I saw happening inside chilled me to the bone.
Without a moment of hesitation, I killed the engine and put the kickstand back down. My boots quickly carried me back through the double doors of the diner, fueled by my need to save her.
How could I have been so fucking stupid…
Grizz
“Grizz, you need to leave right now!” Kate shouted as I came barreling through the door.
“So you do know that asshole!” The ringleader was shouting, tugging Kate by the hair. “You fucking lied to me!”
She was crying out in pain, and I saw her eyes meet mine in complete panic.
These men were drunk.
She was alone with them.
And they’d just made the biggest mistake of their fucking lives.
The lanky one turned sharply as I cut the distance between us.
It was too late for him.
My fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling across the diner floor. The punk was out like a light. The others tried to pounce on me, but I was too fast, moving between them in my furious lunge to their boss.
“I thought you fucking left–”
He released his grip on Kate just in time for me to deliver a blow to his beer gut, winding him on the spot.
One of the boys got a slight punch to my face, which really managed to piss me off. I turned my attention to the two I’d evaded, happy to see Kate dart behind the countertop.
“Where the fuck are the others?” I snapped to Kate. “Didn’t you have another waitress around? Kitchen staff? Manager on duty?”
“Just the three of us tonight!” I heard Kate yell from behind the counter. “Pretty sure the other two followed you out back on a smoke break.”
Sounds about right, I sighed.
While their boss was curled up on the ground the other two dipshits growled defensively at me, holding their ground.
They really were animals.
The stupid one made the first move. He was the biggest thug of them all, and I narrowly avoided a tackle that would have hit me like a goddamn freight train. As he crashed into tables behind me, I bore down on the short stocky one, scaring the ever loving shit out of him. He turned tail and bolted for the door, but I could already hear the big stupid one getting back to his feet.
“Get ‘em, Tread!” the ringleader wheezed up from the floor.
Tread?
Who the hell goes by ‘Tread’?
The thug followed the command, lunging forward. He was faster than a man that big should have been. We fumbled to the ground as he tried to get a few good blows in on my head, but I kept him back and managed to force a knee into his chest.
Prying him off and bashing his face against a booth table, I knocked him out of the brawl just in time to take a blow to the back. The stocky one had returned, grabbing a chair and only barely missing my head with the chair legs.
Grunting, I separated him from his weapon and slammed his chest hard straight through the swinging doors. Through the windows, I watched him tumble outside and hit his head on the concrete. This time he stayed down.
The ringleader rose, grabbing a plate from his table and shattering it against the counter. He darted forward with the makeshift blade, and I dodged as best I could. The prick got a lucky slash in, and my dominant hand came back wounded.
Fucker.
“Yeah, not so tough now, huh?” The asshole grunted loudly. “Looks like you bleed just like the rest of us.”
It was true. My hand hurt, and I felt warm blood trickling down it, but I wasn’t going to let a little thing like that stop me.
My thoughts lingered on the pistol in my leather jacket. I could probably get it out and lay this guy flat before he could make a move…
No, I thought to myself.
I won’t kill this man.
Thanks to my exploits with the marines and the Devil’s Dragons, too many bodies already followed in my wake. There was enough blood on my hands. I had no intentions of adding this backwater trash to the heap.
He wasn’t worth the fucking guilt.
I grabbed another plate and followed his example. Both armed with a jagged piece of ceramic, we found ourselves standing off in the weirdest fucking fight I’d ever heard of.
“What is your name?” I snarled.
“Mudflap,” he grinned stupidly.
“No, it’s Mark,” Kate retorted from cover. “Asshole thinks he’s a big boy, now that he and his asshole friends have joined a club.”
“I see,” I nodded. “Which club?”
“The Bayou Boys,” he sneered. “I see a patch on that stupid fucking jacket of yours. What bullshit gang are you from, nomad?”
Nomad. As if it were a fucking insult.
With a sense of pride, I answered him:
“The Devil’s Dragons.”
To my surprise, the asshole paused. “Those guys out west? With the Outlaws?”
Mudflap was talking about the large, loose group of rival motorcycle clubs, lawbreakers, and thugs that Hunter had whipped together in the desert. To call the Outlaws “reformed criminals” was a real stretch of the imagination, but they were the bad guys you turned to when a serious son of a bitch stepped on your turf.
I was surprised that anyone out here had ever heard of the Outlaws, let alone this prime piece of shit thug.
Sensing that there was a correct answer here, I simply replied: “Yes. Those Devil’s Dragons. How do you know about us?”
The jagged triangle of plate trembled in his hand. He looked torn, as if deciding between fight or flight. Just as I noticed the glint in his eye darken, the word fight stamped across his sneer…
A resounding thunk took him out of the fight. While Kate lowered the pot from behind him, Mudflap staggered forward, the makeshift blade dropping and shattering against the ground. He composed himself just in time for me to give him a solid punch to the skull.
Mudflap toppled over, but he was still conscious. I squatted down on him, putting a knee in his chest as I commanded:
“Keep the fuck out
of this diner,” I barked menacingly, “and never bother this waitress again. Do you understand me, asshole?”
“And what if I do?” he whimpered, choking for life beneath my knee.
“I’ll find you, and next time, I won’t be so fucking polite,” I warned him.
He lowered his head to the floor, eyes closing. I checked for a breath, and determined that he’d just passed out.
“Are you okay?” Kate turned to me, setting the pot down.
“Yeah,” I grumbled, looking at my hand. It was gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning. “Changed my mind. I’m hungry after all. I’ll take my big boy waffle now.”
Kate started laughing when a pair of startled gasps disrupted us. Turning to the kitchen, we spotted the other waitress with the cook, both frozen on the spot.
“Jesus, Kate! What the fuck happened out here?” She sputtered. “I left you alone for two fucking minutes! Clyde’s going to have a shit-fit when he hears about this!”
“Chloe?” Kate replied, exasperated.
“Yeah?”
“Eat a dick.”
I started to laugh, just in time to hear the movement behind me. Kate stared wide-eyed over my shoulder, and before I could react, the lumbering freight train of a fist connected with my head–
Kate
The last thing I’d expected on my way to work was to see my long-lost ex from my high school days walking into the joint.
Well, maybe second-to-last.
The last would have been him laying on my couch, in my shithole apartment, and me cleaning up his wounds like a combat medic.
The large, dopey jackass on Mark’s crew had woken up from the floor while Grizz’s guard was down. With a solid blow to the head, he’d knocked my surprise champion out like a light.
I returned the favor with the pot, but the damage was already done. Grizz got lucky on the way down – the scratches and cuts could have been worse.
He took little nap on the floor of the diner, waking up just in time to help with the police report. When he insisted on no hospitals, no rides, I’d reluctantly let him follow me back to my place on his motorcycle. I’d kept one eye on the rearview mirror just waiting for him to collapse and lay the bike out, but he held it together until he made it to the couch.
