Three women sat alone at one long table-two of them looked like Jersey Shore transplants complete with big hair, heavy make-up, and form-fitting clothes. The other few females in the place were on the dance floor or in crowded booths. Every table and booth was occupied, leaving nowhere for the group to sit together.
Val looked the situation over, spotted the table with the three women, then grinned at Ty. “Get me a Fat Tire. I’ll get us a table.”
Ty and Kit got their drinks first, then paused at a half-wall separating the bar from the booths, waiting for the others. Val was now sitting at the table with one of the women on his lap. Across from them was the other Jersey Shore princess. A third woman sat at the far end of the table, her nose buried in her phone. Wearing a T-shirt, jeans and hiking boots, she seemed an odd companion for the others. While Ty watched, she made short work of a guy who approached her. No one spoke to the other two women, which, given their come-fuck-me attire, surprised him.
Val waved them over.
“The guy’s a man-whore, but he got us a table,” Greer grumbled.
“You don’t hear me complaining,” Kelan commented, following him. They pushed their way through the crowd. Ty handed Val his beer, then sat between him and the hiker chick. Kit sat at the end near Ty, and the other guys filled in around the table. The brown-haired girl looked up at him. Her lips were compressed in a tight line. She offered no welcome but simply went back to her phone.
Ty leaned toward her. “If you don’t want to be here, why are you?” he asked, honestly curious about her answer. Again, she looked up at him. She wasn’t wearing any make-up. She didn’t need any. She looked like she’d come here right from a lengthy hike outside. What color would her smoky topaz eyes be in the sunlight? Her hair was wavy and looked unbearably soft. She was like a draft of fresh air someone had let into the thick, crowded room.
“I had no choice. They needed a D.D.”
Ty set his cane against the table and leaned back, absently rubbing his thigh. “Same here. I’m unstable enough as it is with this. Figured I didn’t need to be stumbling around in a drunken stupor.”
The girl’s smoky eyes studied his. “What happened?”
“War injury.”
She frowned at his thigh, lost to her thoughts. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“That you’re hurt.”
“Wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do this to me.” Ty wondered, as he said it, if he wouldn’t have voluntarily taken a bullet just so that he could sit here with this girl and have this conversation. He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Ty Bladen.”
Her eyes widened then narrowed. “Bladen?” She shook her head. “We got no further need to chat. No offense intended, Bladen.” She returned her focus to her phone.
Ty frowned. What was that about? He’d been gone for more than a decade. He’d done nothing to earn her frosty attitude. He could only think of one reason why she’d had that reaction. “Did you know my father?”
“No,” she said without looking up.
“Eddie! Get your nose out of your phone. We have visitors, honey,” the Jersey Shore girl cuddling with Greer leaned forward to call down the table. “Be nice to the man.”
Eddie flashed the woman a look, but stayed silent. “S’all good,” Ty spoke up, deflecting the woman’s attention. “The two D.D.s’ll just sit here and keep tabs on you guys.”
Ty sat silently for all of a minute before leaning over to Eddie and asking, “So-what’re you reading?”
The girl looked up at him with the hardest, ball-busting glare she could summon. “Listen, Bladen. This is how it’s going to go. You’re going sit in your chair and talk to your boys and leave me alone. Otherwise, someone’s going to get hurt.”
Ty couldn’t help but grin. God, she was hot. “Right. No talking.” He crossed his arms and slumped farther in his chair, his legs spread wide to ease the tension in his groin that his interest in the girl had caused. He tried to think of something other than the spitfire sitting next to him, but all he came up with were more questions about her. Why had she shut him down when she discovered his name? What had his bastard of a father done to her to cause such a reaction?
Val smiled as a waitress set a margarita in front of him. He paid her with a hundred dollar bill and asked her to keep drinks coming for him and his friends. The woman on his lap snuggled tighter while he spoke to the waitress. Val felt his body heating up. She was all curves-big breasts, narrow waist, plump ass. He didn’t care that her assets were medically enhanced. The very fact that she wanted to look sexy was sexy. He grinned up at her as she rubbed those assets against his chest.
God, he loved women. They were delectably different from men, soft and cuddly and sweet smelling. It didn’t matter if they were thin or heavy, small- or big-breasted, young or older. All of them equally fascinated him. They were truly a gift to mankind, and he intended to spend his life showing his appreciation.
She wiggled on his lap. His dick responded in kind. She giggled. “You know you have a girl’s name.” He drew her down for a kiss, putting her mouth to a different use than talking. He savored the sweet, chemical flavor of her lipstick, imagining the sticky, pink imprints she’d leave on his body as she kissed her way down to his cock.
“Do I kiss like a girl?” he asked, his voice rough.
“I don’t know. I’ve never kissed a girl,” she said, wrapping both arms about his neck.
“You’re lying.” More wiggling. Christ, he was going to lose it. Right here.
“Well, there was one time…”
“Did you like it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He gripped her hair, positioning her face where he wanted it. “Yes, I would.” He tilted his head and took her mouth with a force and authority that was all male. While she was distracted with the kiss, he lowered his hand to her thigh, bared for his consumption by the short skirt she wore. He stroked her skin from her knee up until his fingers brushed the hem of her skirt.
She didn’t protest. She drew back from the kiss and watched his hand on her leg. He lifted the margarita glass and held it to her lips, then turned the glass and sipped where she’d sipped.
“How is it that such a beautiful woman is here alone?” he asked, resuming his slow stroking.
She made a lovely pout. “We weren’t alone when we came here, but they took off a while ago. I’m so glad you showed up.”
He pulled her ass a little closer. “Just left you, did they?” He made another pass up her leg, his hand now fully beneath her skirt. Would she let him get her off here? Now? Would she quietly peak, her pleasure a secret between the two of them? Or would she go all wild on him with a screaming orgasm? He couldn’t decide which he’d prefer. Both, maybe.
Her phone beeped with an incoming text message. She huffed, but got off his lap to answer it. A quick look at the text had her sending a dark glare toward the woman at the end of the table. “Not funny, Eddie.”
She sat back down on Val’s lap, this time facing the other way-effectively blocking his advances since he was right-handed. He leaned in to kiss her neck and caught sight of the tattoo she wore below her left ear. A crescent moon and star.
I had them branded so we’d know them when we saw them, Rocco had said during the briefing two days ago. Val pressed his lips to the mark of his enemy and sent a surreptitious look around the room, searching for men with the same mark.
Ty looked between Eddie and the floozy warming Val’s lap, wondering what she’d texted. Probably a warning about the audience they were attracting. Man, he couldn’t even live vicariously. He decided to get up and move around. “I’m going to get another Coke. Want one?” he asked the girl next to him. Their waitress was being plenty attentive, thanks to Val, but his leg was stiffening up-he wanted to stretch it out.
Eddie kept her eyes on her phone. “No.”
“Hungry?” he asked, wishing he could get her to look at him one more time.
Ty grabbed his cane and walked through the crush to the bar. He shouldered his way in and leaned an elbow on the counter. The man currently waiting for his drink was one of the many gangbangers clustered about the place. Ty’s gaze wandered over his tats, curious to see if he knew any of the images the guy sported. He followed an unimaginative hate message up the guy’s neck, where it terminated with a crescent moon and star.
A cold feeling started at Ty’s neck and worked its way down his spine. He sent a look around the crowded bar area, seeing the same mark on several men. The man at the bar must have felt his curiosity, for he turned and glared at Ty.
“Nice ink,” Ty tapped his neck. “What does it mean?”
The man’s brows lowered. “Why the fuck are you talking to me?”
Ty laughed. “Just makin’ nice conversation. Got some social anxiety there, big guy?” The gangbanger grunted for an answer and reached for Ty’s throat with his free hand-the other still held his money and was resting on the bar. Ty grabbed two of his fingers and bent them backward as he pushed the hand away. The man should have caved instantly to avoid the pain, but he kept up his forward momentum. He either didn’t feel the pain or didn’t need those two fingers.
Before the situation escalated, the barkeep slammed a baseball bat down on the counter. He looked at the skinhead. “You know the rules. No fighting.” The immediate area around the two of them got quiet, but Ty doubted anyone beyond a few feet from them heard the bang. He eased his hold on the guy’s hand, ready for anything. The man took his drink and paid, glaring a warning at Ty before he stepped away.
Ty looked at the frustrated bartender. “They part of your regular clientele?”
“No. Once a month or so, they come into town and take the place over. I made an agreement with their leader, Pete Conlin, to keep the place open longer when they’re here in exchange for no property destruction. Still, it’s a battle every time.” He eyed Ty. “You’re with the Feds who came into town earlier this week.” Ty didn’t bother correcting him. The less he knew about Owen’s team, the better. The bartender shook his head, grinning as he rubbed the counter down. “You picked a helluva night to come here.”
“Why’s that?”
“They aren’t normal biker dudes. They’re WKBers and they hate government employees.”
Ty took his drink and returned to the table. He tapped Kit on the shoulder. “We’ve got a problem. And not a three girls and six guys kind of problem.”
“What is it?” Kit asked as he stood up next to Ty.
“It’s a six guys and fifty WKBers kind of problem.”
Kit mouthed a curse as he glanced around at the clientele, his gaze snagging on man after man bearing the mark of Ghalib Halim. Val caught his look, and Ty could tell he’d figured out the problem as well. Kelan noticed the loaded glances. He hit Greer and Angel on the shoulders. They both stood up.
“I’m sorry to cut our time short, sweetheart, but it looks as if we’re heading out.” Val stood up, his arm still around the woman he’d been fondling.
She arched against him like a cat stretching, her hands kneading the contours of his chest. “Why do you have to go? Stay and keep me company.”
As Val leaned in for a good-bye kiss, the woman was yanked out of his arms. A fist connected hard with his jaw instead. Stunned by the abrupt change in his circumstances, Val barely had time to focus on the bearded, bald man in front of him before Kelan intercepted the next blow. His friend grabbed the skinhead’s throat in a hold so tight, the man could neither breathe nor pull away. It stopped the others who’d come forward in a close circle.
“Take it down a notch.” Kelan glared at the guy. “I’m going to let you go so we can have some nice convo about what’s got you freaked out.” The guy held his hands up. Kelan eased his hold.
“The bastard was touching my woman. I’ll be doing my talking with this-” He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and popped the blade. He swiped at Kelan. It was the only strike he managed to make. Kelan hit his throat with the edge of his hand, then kicked out his knees.
When he turned to the next man, Kelan realized all his bros were likewise engaged. The space was too tight for them to take on more than a couple of men each. It was hard to tell how many they were going to have to fight, but the odds were definitely not in their favor.
Ty and Kit were fighting back-to-back, dodging chairs. For every man they put down, another took his place. Ty looked over where Eddie had been sitting. She was gone. At first, he was relieved, thinking she’d slipped away with the other women who’d been at the table. But then he caught a movement under the table and realized she was trapped inside the ring of fighting men.
He moved toward her, putting himself between her hiding spot and the circle of angry gangbangers kicking and thrashing their way into the line the team was holding around the table. As soon as he saw an opening in the crush, he drew her from under the table.
“Go. Get out of here. Find the other women you were with and go home.”
She looked at him for what seemed several heartbeats. He wondered if he’d ever see her again. He touched his hand to her cheek, unable to live out the night without knowing the feel of her skin. “Stay safe, Eddie.”
“It’s Eden. My name’s Eden.”
Ty smiled. Eden. He’d no sooner indulged himself in repeating her name than another fist plowed into him. He pushed into the bastard to give Eden enough space to slip away. When he looked back, she was gone.
The fight seemed to last for hours but probably was only minutes. Ty’s knuckles were torn and bleeding. He had a split lip and one rib felt as if it might be broken. His thigh was protesting its extended strain. He noticed a ring of downed WKBers was clogging up the fight zone just as a shotgun went off.
“It’s over. Get out,” Hal shouted, his shotgun poised for another blast into the ceiling. “And if you ever want to come back, you’ll pay for tonight’s damages.”
“We didn’t start it,” Pete said.
“Of course. I have no doubt who threw the first punch. But don’t worry-you’ll be splitting the bill-half to the Feds, half to you. Now get out.”
Ty and the others watched as the WKBers helped their friends up. They had to carry a few of them. He looked around the room for Eden but didn’t see her. Val clapped Kelan on the back. Being slightly behind him, he didn’t see the wince that tightened the man’s face.
“Thanks for the quick save earlier. Was expecting a pair of soft lips, not a hard fist,” Val said.
“Happy to help. And thank you for getting us all fucked tonight,” Kelan groused. “Next time keep your hands to yourself.”
Val sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that, too. She was just so damned sweet.”
“We didn’t all strike out.” Greer held up a torn napkin. “I got Trudy’s phone number.” He leaned over and spoke to Ty in a lower voice. “Might come in handy if we want an in with the WKBers. She lives in their compound.”
“Great. Maybe you and Val can double date,” Ty growled. He had a reason to get in to the compound too, but he doubted he’d get a warm welcome.
Kit handed Hal, Winchester’s owner, a business card. “Send our bill to Mandy’s house. Sorry things got out of hand.”
“Next time, don’t come here on WKB night, got it?”
“Loud and clear.”
* * *
At breakfast the next morning, Mandy thought the guys were unusually quiet but she was too busy cooking breakfast to notice why until she sat at the table. She sat next to Rocco. As he poured coffee for her, she looked around the table.
“Good heavens! What happened?” Every man, except the three who had stayed home last night, looked as if he’d been run over by a herd of horses. They had swollen, split lips, red, bruised cheeks, swollen noses, black eyes. Kit sported a butterfly bandage on his eyebrow. “Were we attacked? How could I sleep through such an event?
”
“No attack,” Kit told her. He filled his plate as if nothing extraordinary had happened. “We went to Winchester’s last night.”
“I go there all the time. I never come home looking like you do now. I’ve never even seen a bar fight there. Really, Kit, you should have outgrown that long ago.”
“I’m guessing you don’t go there on WKB night.”
“Oh. Oh, no!” Mandy’s eyes widened as she processed what must have happened.
“And lucky for us,” Kelan explained, “Val hit on the lead guy’s hoochie mama.”
“She voluntarily sat on my lap. How was I supposed to know she was spoken for?” Val said in his own defense.
“Tell me the other guys look worse,” Mandy commented.
“We have owies, Mandy. We need massages.” Val gave her a soulful look.
“No massages,” Rocco growled. “Mandy is not here for your amusement.”
“And don’t even look at Fee. She’s under our protection,” Kelan warned.
Val grunted. “So that’s how this team’s gonna roll, is it?”
“I’d be happy to put you out of your misery,” Rocco offered.
Mandy laughed and set her hand on Rocco’s forearm to calm him. “I have a friend I can introduce you to, Val. I’m sure she’d be quite taken with your injuries.”
Kit glared at her. “Not Ivy.”
Mandy frowned. “I do have more than one friend, Kit.”
“Wow. No one’s sharing. What happened to the team that fights together has fun together?” Val shook his head and glared at Owen. “If I’d known women were so scarce here in Wyoming, I would never have taken this assignment.”
* * *
The Edge Of Courage Page 21
