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No words need to be spoken.
“That so?” I say, walking up to the pool table and picking up a cue. “And who made you the boss?”
Seething, he steps around the pool table, glaring at me, baring rotting teeth. I can already tell by his bloodied knuckles and bad attitude that he had something to do with Adder’s attack.
“We don’t accept scum in our bar. You dogs need to get out.”
Running my hand down the smooth pool cue, I tip my head to the side and look around before meeting his eyes again. Spike is beside me, his presence known, and the other guys are spread out, waiting for Jackson to give the order.
“Judgin’ by the look of the place, I’m guessin’ you’re not telling me the truth. All I can see,” I say as I lean in closer, “is scum.”
His nostrils flare and his eyes widen. “I’ll give you one last warning. Get the fuck out or I’ll do to you what I did to the last man who came in here wearing that shit.”
That’s the only answer I need.
Grinning, I tighten my grip around the pool cue. “Yeah, that’s not goin’ to happen.”
With that, I swing it, connecting with his jaw and sending him stumbling backward. The entire bar erupts as men launch out of their seats and begin attacking whoever is closest. My focus is on the man in front of me who stands up, smashing a bottle on a near by table and swiping it at me, going straight for the throat. Fucking savage.
Catching his wrist when he swings the bottle in my direction, I haul him closer before bringing my other fist into his face, over and over again, until blood splatters against my shirt. Releasing him, I manage to raise my hand just in time for his bottle to come in the direction of my face. It slices my hand, causing blood to trickle down my arm, but it does little to stop me.
Gripping his throat, my blood smearing against it, I back him into a wall where I lean in close. “You ever fuck with this club again, the next time we come in here, I will kill you.”
He opens his mouth to answer, but I don’t give him the chance.
I slam my fist into his face, over and over again, until he falls into a slump on the ground. Staring down at him, panting with rage, I turn just in time to see Jackson raise a hand. He’s calling us out, no doubt before the police arrive. Someone would have called them, though I doubt this is on their high list of things to do. A place like this isn’t something they’d come rushing for.
Still.
It’s time to go.
Stepping over the bodies on the ground, and past the men still fighting, I walk out the door with most of the bikers following. A few minutes later, they’re all out, and we move quickly to our bikes as men pour from the bar, ready to keep the fight going. Throwing a leg over my bike, I start it just as a man approaches, bottle in hand. What the fuck is with these men and their bottles? Raising it, he doesn’t get the chance to swing it as I kick my leg out, hitting him hard enough to send him toppling backward.
Helps that he’s drunk.
Once he’s on the ground, I rev the engine and get the fuck out of there.
Nothin’ like a fight to end a night.
It’s good for the soul.
“I’M NOT EVEN GOING to ask you how you got this,” Addi murmurs, wiping the dried blood from my hand, revealing a cut that is no doubt in need of stitches.
Glancing up at me, she meets my eyes as I watch her work, not telling her a single thing. That’s just how it goes, and she knows it.
“The silent treatment,” she mutters, “how original, Cade. Are we going to keep playing this game or are we going to get over it?”
“No game, sugar,” I murmur.
“What a load of shit,” she breathes, swiping at my hand angrily.
Growling, I pull it away. “Go easy.”
“I’ll go easy,” she snatches my hand back, “when you start acting like a grown ass adult and talk to me.”
“Know I can’t tell you what went down tonight.”
Scowling at me, she gives me a look so intense it almost makes me laugh. She’s fucking adorable when she’s mad. Always has been.
