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Chapter Ten
Nick
One of the tell-tale signs of a promising prospect is his ability to realize when it’s time to listen and when it’s time to speak. A man who fully understands the difference without being told possesses a certain quality that evokes trust in the men who he exposes himself to.
Every passing moment of Peyton’s silence pushed me closer to viewing her as a very intriguing woman, and not simply as the reporter who happened into the bar on that Friday afternoon.
We stood by the workbench in the shop while Peyton sat on my motorcycle in the parking lot. With my eyes constantly searching the road in front of the shop through the open garage doors, I conveyed my concerns.
“As far as I’m concerned we need to go to war with these pricks.”
Pee Bee nodded. “I agree, Boss. If those two fucks came into Pete’s bar, they were looking for what they got. That place is off-limits. Plenty of neutral places they could have caught up to you at, but they didn’t. They were asking for it.”
“Agreed.”
“You sure you’re ready for this?”
“Ready? If I’m breathing, I’m ready to fight. Don’t forget that.”
“Just askin’, Crip. Just askin’.”
“I’ll call an emergency meeting,” I said. “Let the fellas know to watch their backs. This could get real god damned ugly real god damned quick.”
“What about the girl?”
I turned around and shot him a glare. “What about her?”
“Well, we got to do something with her. She ain’t stickin’ around for the meeting.”
My stare continued, probably a little longer than it should have. For whatever reason, I now felt protective over her. I suspected it was a result of exposing her to the day-to-day life of an outlaw biker, and in doing so, placing her in harm’s way.
His eyes widened. “Is she?”
“No,” I snapped back. “She isn’t sticking around for the fuckin’ meeting. Her Jeep’s at the coffee shop on Old Grove. I need to give her a ride back.”
“Can’t believe you got her to sit on that fuckin’ fender. Don’t know too many Ol’ Ladies that’d ride on that fucker without a fight.”
“She didn’t have a choice.”
“She’s one tough little bitch,” he said. “How’d she handle the beat down you gave Whip and Panda? Didn’t barf or anything did she?”
“Handled it like a true professional.” I chuckled. “When they showed up, I told her to stay in the booth. She sat there and watched me whip their asses. Little bitch never said a word. When we were walkin’ out, I stomped both their fuckin’ heads one more time, and she didn’t say shit then, either. Never asked one fucking question.”
He folded his arms in front of his chest and gazed in her direction. “Probably scared as hell.”
“Her? Shit, I don’t think so. She isn’t a typical bitch. Said she snowboards, surfs, goes rock climbing, and bungie jumping. I doubt seeing me beat their asses scared her.”
He rubbed his beard with his right hand and narrowed his eyes. “She interviewing you, or are you interviewing her?”
“She offered, I listened,” I said. “Give me your keys.”
He pressed his hands to his hips and shot me a look. “Say what?”
“Your keys to the bagger. Give ‘em up. I’m taking her back to the coffee shop, and not on my Shovel.”
He dug in his pocket, then handed me the keys. “Where’s your key?”
“Ignition’s hot all the time. Don’t need a key.”
