Page 39 of Reno

Wearing a shitty grin, he shut off the engine.

I glared. “Is that fucking necessary?”

“What’s it hurt?”

“Other’n my ears? It’s fucking irritating.”

He cackled a laugh. “If you don’t like the sound of power, maybe you ought to start riding with a moped club instead of a motorcycle club.”

He glanced at everyone, hoping the others would appreciate his keen sense of humor.

No one did.

“Maybe you ought to act like a fucking adult.” I gestured to the four cars in the parking lot. “These people are inside trying to eat. I doubt they want to listen to you rev your shit up like you’re trying to wake the fucking dead.”

He stepped off his motorcycle and removed his helmet. After hanging it from the handlebars he gave me an apologetic look. “I’ll keep it quiet when we leave.”

I gave a nod of appreciation. “Appreciate it.”

Cash was like a great big muscular child. His behavior was immature more often than not, but he was loyal to the club one hundred percent. In the end, he was a difficult man to warm up to, but equally difficult to hate.

Ally clapped her hands together. “Let’s do this. I’m ready.”

I pulled the door open and gestured inside. “After you.”

The dining area had a dozen people in it, which was busier than most late nights. Disappointed that they weren’t empty and hoping Cash didn’t make a complete fool of us, I glanced at Carma and smiled.

“Have a seat wherever you like,” she said.

“Is that her?” Ally whispered.

“It is.”

“Oh. Wow.” She stole another glance and then looked at me. “She’s got an interesting look. Kind of…”

“Exotic,” Goose said, taking the words right out of my mouth.

Ally nodded. “Yeah. Exotic.”

“She’s not an easy one to forget,” I said.

After we took a seat, Carma brought menus by. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look these over. Can I get you some drinks?”

We placed our drink order—a combination of margaritas, beer, and water. While everyone scanned the menu for their favorite Mexican dish, I waited anxiously for Carma to bring the drinks.

“Look at that shit, would ya,” I said when she arrived. “A dozen on one tray. She didn’t spill a drop.”

Cash looked at Carma like he was unimpressed. He clapped the tips of his fingers lightly against the palm of his hand. “Amazing.”

I immediately took exception to Cash’s attitude. I glared at him and then looked at Carma. Seeing her lack of reaction to his Neanderthal actions prevented me from making a scene in her place of employment.

Acting as if she didn’t hear Cash’s snide comment—or see him acting like an idiot—Carma passed out the drinks. After handing Baker the last one, she focused on Cash. “Let me guess, you’re the one that revved his engine so tight that it shook the silverware on everyone’s tables?”

“Did you like that?” he asked.

“It was.” She mimicked his golf clap. “Amazing.”

The entire table, short of Cash, enjoyed a laugh. He found it irritating when someone stood up to him, challenging him on his childlike antics.