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“I don't play nice, and I don't play fair. You still want to play?” I was trying to give them an out, but Brad was back up, trying to take me down.
I swatted him away like a fly. These guys were all bluster and no bite, and it didn't take long to have them both on the ground, groaning in pain.
Flashing red and blue lights lit up the alley. Fuck. The cops rolled up, guns drawn, and I knew I had to think fast.
"Officers, thank God you're here," I called out, injecting my voice with as much fear and relief as I could muster. "These men were attacking me!"
One of the officers, a grizzled veteran with a skeptical eye, approached. "Is that true, miss?"
I nodded, tears streaming down my face for effect. "Yes, they tried to drag me into their car. I fought back, but they wouldn't stop."
Brad and Todd, still trying to catch their breath, were in no shape to argue. However, the cop looked me up and down. “A big girl like you can’t handle herself? They’re on the ground.”
It was true I was taller than both the men and towered over the cop. I’d just taken them out easily, but his words, that was fucking rude.
“Am I not supposed to defend myself?” I sobbed harder, feeling his words deep in my soul.
That was me, always the big girl, bigger than my friends, bigger than the boys growing up. I thought about my father and my brother, men much bigger than me that hurt me all because they said I could take it. I thought about my ex, Jeff, and how he wanted to break my spirit with his fists. And I cried real tears.
And just like that, the cops cuffed them, read them their rights as they protested weakly.
Then one of them called out, Brad maybe, “Watch out you big bitch. You’ll pay for this.”
"You're safe now," the offending officer assured me, his tone softening. "We'll take it from here."
Wiping my tears, I thanked him, feigning a trembling relief. Once they were gone, I felt a satisfied smirk on my lips. Another successful con, and the night was still young.
Back at the Roost, Pixie and Razor were waiting, grinning like cats that had just killed the canary. I told them about all my trouble as they split up our take.
"Nice work," Razor said, tossing me a cold beer.
"They fucked around and found out," I said, clinking my bottle against theirs.
As we were basking in our victory, Brat walked in, her eyes scanning the room before locking onto me. She made a beeline for our table, her bright red hair flowing around her. Girl was near royalty around here, being the daughter of our founder.
Razor slammed down her fist. “You missed another haul, Brat.”
"I’ve had bigger fish to fry, and you know it," she said, pulling up a chair. Brat had been busy working with our enemy to clear our names of a murder. “Girls, we need to talk.”
"What's up?" I asked, curious. Brat was rarely this serious unless it was something big.
She glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "Riptide and I... we’ve brokered a truce with the Slayers."
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A truce? You’re fucking tripping."
Brat shook her head. "Nope. It’s real. And it’s all so we can be together without our clubs tearing us apart."
Our girl had been doing more than working with the enemy, she’d been fucking him. More power to her.
Razor whistled low, and Pixie leaned in, her eyes wide. "Wow, Brat. That’s huge. Guess that means you two are really serious."
Brat nodded, trying to hide the smile on her lips. "Yeah, it is. But it’s not going to be easy. There are still too many hard feelings on both sides. We need everyone on board to make this work. Both clubs."
I drew in a long breath, realizing what was really going on. We were really going to make nice with the Slayers because Brat was in love. "So, what’s the plan?"
Brat looked me straight in the eye. "Rage will call Church soon, make sure everyone is on board, but I owed it to y’all to let you know. I need my girls on my side. We need to show them that this truce can work. We need to prove that the Hell on Heelz and the Slayers can coexist without bloodshed."
Nodding slowly, I doubted our clubs could ever bury the hatchet. But my girl Brat was in love with Riptide, the president of the Slayers, so this was bigger than any one of us. This was our sister’s happiness. Not to mention, the future of our clubs and our way of life. I was sure our president, Rage, wouldn’t even entertain the idea unless there was something in it for us.
