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He nodded. “Sure do. Password’s go home.”
I laughed. “Cute. Uhhm. Can I get. Can I get a Budweiser?”
I reached for my purse. He looked at me like paying was an insult. “On the house.”
“Let me just--”
“It’s on the house.”
I raised the bottle. “Thank you.”
I sat down at the same table Navarro and I had shared a few days prior. After logging onto the wi-fi, I began sipping my beer and searching through the documents of my old case. In no time, I was buried in legal facts and needed another beer.
The unmistakable sound of approaching motorcycles made my heart race. Expecting Navarro, Pee Bee and maybe more, I tore my eyes away from my laptop and peered through the window.
Much to my surprise, Whip, Panda, and several other Savages pulled into the parking lot.
Fuck.
My eyes shot toward Pete. I felt the need to warn him, just like Navarro did. “Savages coming in,” I shouted.
He shifted his eyes toward the back door. “Go out the back.”
I shook my head and reached for my recorder. “I’m staying.”
I was almost sick from the excitement. I turned on my recorder, wedged it between the cushions of the booth’s seat, and then slumped in my seat.
Whip, Panda, and two others came through the door and walked directly toward the bar.
“You got some of our shit,” Whip growled. “And we need it back.”
“I’ll give it to you when go, and you need to go.” Pete pointed toward the door. “Now.”
“We’ll leave when we’re good and god damned ready,” Whip responded. “Give me our shit.”
I considered getting my phone and after sending Navarro a text message, recording video of the debacle. So far, I had gone unnoticed, and drawing attention to myself was the only thing that prevented it.
Standing directly in front of Pete, but on the other side of the bar, Whip checked over each shoulder, and without any further warning, thrust his head into Pete’s face. Instantly, blood burst from Pete’s nose. After Whip threw a few sucker punches, he climbed over the bar and began to rummage around.
While he did, one of the other bikers – a tall lanky man with long strands of filthy hair – scanned the bar. Upon seeing me, our eyes locked.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Whip handed Panda his pistol and then a shotgun, which I suspected was what Pete used to protect the bar. My heart sank at the thought of Pete not being able to defend himself – or me for that matter – from the Savages.
The lanky biker pointed toward me. “See this?”
Whip’s eyes met mine. “I’ll be god damned. That’s Crip’s girl. The one that lied in court this morning.”
Please. Let me live through this.
That’s all I ask. Don’t let them kill me.
Let me tell this story.
He shoved his knife into his pocket and began walking toward me. Two of the other three men followed.
I considered doing a lot of things, but only managed to do one. I turned toward him, blocking my right arm from his view. And, like a true journalist, I swept my purse and the recorder onto the floor. My only hope was that he didn’t find them, leaving the recorder to capture the event in its entirety.
