Page 4 of Deadly North
GIGI
“Hey,” Mack barks, sounding pissed.
I whirl back around to face him. “What doyouwant?”
His jaw juts. “You were layin’ it on a little thick back there with Rocky, don’t ya think?”
I stop in my tracks and stare at him. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I mean, Jesus.” Mack runs a rough hand through his hair. “You didn’t need to practically climb into his damn lap, for fuck’s sake. We got club girls for that shit.”
Oh,hellno. I have had enough of this fucker’s shit for one day. I am done playing.
I round on my brother’s best friend, suddenly so furious I can barely see straight. “So, am I a slut that climbs into guys’ laps, or am I a man-hating lesbian? Huh, Mack? Because it can’t be both, now can it?” I jab him in the chest with my finger, not caring who sees us. “So make up your mind. Which is it, Mack? Huh? Slut or dyke? Which one are you calling me?”
He blinks in surprise, looking down at my finger, which is still jammed into his pectoral. Around us, a couple of people have stopped to look. I know I’m causing a scene, because one thing you do not do is lay hands on a biker unless you have a death wish. But I don’t give a good god damn. And I don’t give Mack a chance to reply, either, because I’m too pissed, and anyway, anything he says will just make me angrier.
“Fuck you, Mack,” I spit, letting my lip curl to show my contempt. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you have no right to try to tell me what to do. Now I have customers to talk to. So kindly fuck all the way off, and leave me the hell alone.Permanently.”
I wheel around and storm away from Mack, perilously close to tears. Why, ohwhydoes he have this effect on me? How is it that Mack Maxwell has always been able to turn me into a hurt little child with just a word?
Back over at the Body Bus, I cringe a little when I see there are two bikers hovering around it. I’ve pretty much had my fill of bikers today. Even worse, these guys are members of the Bloody Scorpions MC. The Scorpions are rivals to my brother’s club. I don’t know a lot about the MC world other than what I glean from being around him, but I know there’s a history of violence and bad blood between the two clubs that makes me a little nervous, even though it’s doubtful these men know that I’m connected in any way to the Royal Bastards.
Still. I feel a little uncertain as I approach.
“Hey, guys,” I call. “What can I do for you?”
“You got air conditioning in this thing?” One of the Scorpions asks me. “I wanna get out of this heat and get some ink.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say yes, but then I get a sudden flash of me alone inside my bus with two Bloody Scorpions. “Sorry, guys. I’m closed for the day,” I lie.
One of Scorpions has his back to me but starts to turn around. I just glimpse the bottom rocker of his cut, which saysNomad.Now facing me, the biker moves closer. Too close. He’s a scruffy looking guy, most of his face obscured by a thick, dark beard that grows several inches past his chin. Aviator sunglasses mask his eyes, and a sweat-stained red bandana worn low on his forehead covers up the top half of his head. His body lists slightly to one side with a slight limp. He’s as tall as Mack, meaning quite a bit taller than me. It’s weird, there’s something sort of familiar about him, even though I can barely see any of his face. “If you’re off the clock, come get a drink with me,” he says in a scratchy voice that’s almost a whisper.
Something feels a little off about this guy, so I take a slow step back. “Sorry, I’m kind of tired. Worked too hard, and this sun is beating me down.” I wipe my hand across my perspiring forehead for emphasis.
His buddy guffaws. “Blaze will get ya out of the sun,” he says, indicating the bearded nomad. It’s a pretty lame joke, but the sexual innuendo is still clear.
“Sorry, I have plans already,” I say, more firmly this time.
“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer,” Blaze rasps. Underneath his thick beard, I can see his jaw set. The feeling comes back to me that he’s familiar to me somehow, but I’ll be damned if I know why. Shit. This may be about to get ugly.
“Well, you’re going to have to take no for an answer,” I say calmly. “Because noismy answer.”
“That’s not very polite,” Blaze snarls. He grabs my wrist and twists it roughly. “Somebody needs to teach you a lesson in fuckin’ manners.”
Startled, I suppress a yelp. His voice has an eerily familiar quality, too, but I push the thought away because now is not the time for me to play guessing games. I try to pull away from his grasp, but he’s too strong for that. Glancing down, I’m about to try to knee him in the groin, but I telegraph the move and he notices. Instead, he spins me around and grabs me in his powerful arms, pulling my back hard against him. I scream, struggling in his arms, but his buddy hauls off and slaps me across the face. “Shut up, bitch,” he hisses, bringing his leering face close to mine. “Save the screaming for later. We’ll like that much better.”
Blaze lifts me up and starts to carry me toward the bus. His friend gets to my door first, and figures out it’s locked. “Key,” he barks at me.
“No!” I gasp, continuing to thrash. The biker raises his hand as if to slap me again.
“Hey!” a male voice shouts.
I hear the click of a pistol being cocked. Blaze freezes.
“Drop her. Fucking now.” Mack’s voice is cold as steel.
Blaze slowly bends and sets me on the ground. I wheel around to see Mack holding a gun to his head, and Rocky coolly aiming his own pistol at Blaze’s buddy.