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“Yeah?”
“Cover the back of the clubhouse, nice and quiet,” I replied. “Our little thief is about to bolt any second now. Cut her off.”
“Got it,” he said, ducking back inside.
The woman rose to her feet, shifting in place as she continued to study me. I hadn’t closed the distance between us. She was skittish enough already. It wouldn’t take much to spook her. She scooped up a ratty backpack from the pavement and hefted it over her shoulder. Heavy. Probably carried her entire life in that thing.
“Are you running from someone?” I asked.
She snorted.
“None of your fucking business, grandpa.”
Oh, she was definitely a handful. I took one cautious step forward, moving slowly.
“It’s Gideon, not grandpa. My friends call me Big G. And since you’re the one with your grubby mitts on my bike, that automatically makes it my business. Besides, I know a thing or two about runaways, and you’ve got it written all over you. I’ve been on the run myself a few times in my life.”
She grumbled and looked away, shaking her head.
“You say that like I’m supposed to care, but you’re forgetting the part where I don’t give a shit.”
I breathed a faint laugh. This woman had balls of steel. I liked her spunk.
“Why don’t you come inside and get a bite to eat? On the house. You look like you could use a stiff drink, too. If you’re old enough for that.”
The woman hesitated, scrubbing her thumb over the strap of her backpack as she deliberated. I recognized the hunger in her eyes, the ache of longing for a hot meal and a full belly.
“No,” she replied at last. “I have to go.”
I remained silent and didn’t budge, watching as she started to march away. Then I spoke again.
“Can’t let you do that.”
“Last I checked, it’s a free country,” she shot back without missing a beat. “You can’t stop me.”
“That’s the problem, sweetheart. You tried to take my bike, right out from under my nose while I was enjoying a friendly game of poker with my boys. You might be living in a free country, but when you mess with a Blackjack’s bike, there are consequences.”
She gritted her teeth, setting her mouth in a hard, thin line. For a split second, she tensed. Then she took off, disappearing around a corner of the clubhouse.
After a moment, I heard a shriek of rage.
“Let go of me, you fucking creep!”
I came around the clubhouse to find Crash with his hands locked around the woman’s wrists. She flailed and kicked at him but he swore under his breath and held on.
“A little help here, Big G?” His voice was strained as he tried to dodge another kick from our thief.
I hooked an arm around her middle, and lifted her clean off her feet as I tossed her over my shoulder. Her shrieking turned even more shrill.
“Put me down!”
She beat her fists against my back, squirming like a worm on a hook. I could feel how bony she was beneath the multiple layers of clothing she wore. When was the last time she’d had a proper meal? I kept my arm locked tight around her as I carried her into the clubhouse. Everyone turned to stare as we entered the room.
“Looks like you caught yourself a pissed off stray cat,” Kingpin said. “Is that the thief who tried to steal your bike?”
“She thought she could make a run for it,” I replied.
Kingpin clucked his tongue.
