“Yeah,” Bradley gasped, wiping at his bloody lip and cheek. “Yeah, okay. Don’t hit me again,” he said as he slowly got to his feet.
Saul took a step back, letting him rise, but watched for any sudden movements.
“Sorry. Sorry,” Bradley said slowly as the turned for the door, then grabbed the large vase filled with fresh flowers sitting on the table and threw it at Saul.
Saul instinctively ducked and blocked with his arm, the heavy vase shattering on his arm, pieces of pottery flying and hitting him in the head as the water splashed in his face. He roared in pain, his forearm feeling like it had been smashed by the vase. Before he could recover, Bradley drove into him again, powering him to the floor. Saul bellowed in pain, landing on a piece of the vase hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He blocked with his arms a moment as he tried to collect himself, protecting his head from Bradley’s punches, then grabbed Bradley and pulled him down into a clench to stop the blows.
Angela had relaxed when Bradley surrendered, but her hands went back to her mouth as the two men tumbled over each other. Saul had a nasty a cut on his arm and the side of his face, both bleeding profusely as he forced Bradley over to his back.
Saul held Bradley, snarling in effort as he struggled to escape, waiting for his head to clear. He should have finished Bradley when he had the chance, and now he was hurt and rocked back on his heels. He released Bradley and threw himself back, scrambling to his feet and turning to face his opponent as Bradley scrambled after him.
“I gave you your chance, and now I’m going to fuck you up,” Saul sneered, stepping in and throwing a leading left jab then followed with a right cross which connected solidly with the side of Bradley’s head. Bradley staggered back, stunned by the blow. Saul followed, throwing a hard left right left combination that knocked Bradley down.
Bradley tried to recover, kicking backwards then trying to stagger to his feet, but Saul bore in and hauled him up by the front of his shirt with his left hand. Bradley threw a punch to Saul’s stomach, but the blow was weak, Bradley still stunned from Saul’s four devastating punches.
Saul hit him again, a crushing right to the temple which put Bradley on the floor again. “That’s for calling Angela a nigger,” he said as he dropped to his knees astraddle of Bradley. Bradley put up his hands but Saul batted them away and drove another hard right into his face, blood spraying from his shattered nose. “That’s for calling her a whore.”
Bradley stopped fighting and covered, trying to shield his face as Saul drew back his right again, intending to beat him unconscious, then hit him one more time for good measure.
“No!” Angela yelled, grabbing his arm. “He’s had enough!”
Someone started hammering on the door. “Angela? Are you okay? What’s going on in there? Open the door!” a man’s voice called as they hammered hard at the door again.
Saul got to his feet as Angela pulled on him, trying to drag him away from Bradley. Once he was on his feet, she dropped his arm and ran to the door, opening it.
Saul spat on Bradley. “And that’s for calling me a redneck,” he growled before he grimaced and held is right arm to his body as blood dripped onto the floor.
“What the fuck?” Ryan asked, pushing his way into the room as several other faces appeared in the doorway. “What the hell happened?’
“Bradley’s drunk! He attacked Saul!”
“Oh my God! Someone call an ambulance!” Ryan cried as he knelt at Bradley’s side as he struggled to sit up, wiping at his nose. “Saul! What have you done?”
“Saul?” Angela yelled. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Bradley attacked him! Twice!”
“But look at his face!” Ryan cried, glancing between Angela and Bradley. “We can’t film with him looking like this! Someone call the cops!”
Angela stood, her mouth hanging open. “You’re worried about filming?” she yelled, her fist curling into fists. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m fucking filing charges,” Bradley muttered, still wiping his nose. “I didn’t do anything. I come in here to talk to Angela and this creep attacked me.”
“That’s not true!” Angela screamed, outraged Bradley was casting blame. “He’s drunk! He came in here and got nasty. Saul told him to leave and when he didn’t he started to escort him out. That’s when he freaked out!”
Ryan grimaced and looked at Bradley. Saul had beaten the shit out of him, and this was going to delay production for days. “We’ll let the cops sort it out.”
***
“Thank you, Ms. Moncrief,” Office Penbrooke said, taking her statement. He’d already collected the statements from the two men, but hers was by far the most thorough. Hoffman’s stated he’d simply come into talk to Angela and Houston had jumped him for no reason. Houston’s stated Bradley was drunk and had become belligerent and when he’d tried to escort him out, he’d attacked him.
He finished reading Angela’s statement and it more or less matched Houston’s. “Do you wish to press charges?” he asked Saul.
“What?” Ryan cried. “Saul beat the crap out of him! It’s Bradley who should be pressing charges!”
Penbrooke pursed his lips and nodded. Sometime people got exactly what they deserved, and from the look of Bradley’s face, Saul must have a punch that would knock down a horse. “I have two statements here which state Mr. Hoffman attacked Mr. Houston. In case you haven’t noticed, you can smell the alcohol on him and we already know Mr. Hoffman has a bit of a problem with the truth. I think I have a pretty clear picture of what happened here.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked, then looked down at Bradley as he sat on the bed.
“It appears Mr. Hoffman filed a false police report. Caused an apparently innocent man to have to spend a couple of nights in our fair town, courtesy of the City of Laredo. We don’t take kindly to that kind of behavior here in Texas, and we don’t like having our time wasted. We would like to have a word with him about it.”
Ryan continued to stare at Bradley. “What have you done?”
“Nothing. I haven’t done a fucking thing.”
“You remember the little incident with the gun?” Penbrooke asked Ryan. “Funny thing about that. We didn’t find any prints matching Mr. Harton’s on the gun.”
“He probably wiped them off,” Bradley said sullenly.
“Maybe. But since he said it wasn’t his gun, and nobody saw it but you, including people who had been standing beside him for over an hour, that kind of weakens your argument, doesn’t it?”
Ryan looked at Saul, his eyes pleading. “No. I don’t want to press charges,” Saul said.
“I guess we’re done here.” Penbrooke looked at Saul. “You sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”
“No,” Saul replied. “Just some cuts and scrapes. The paramedic fixed me up.”
Penbrooke nodded to Saul and Angela, then glared at Bradley. “We expect to see you tomorrow at the station.”
Ryan nodded. “He’ll be there.”
The moment Penbrooke was out of the room, Angela whirled on Ryan. “I’ll do my job, but you keep this asshole away from me, understand?” She looked at Bradley. “If you come near me again, I’ll tell everyone who will listen exactly what went on here, and if you ever all me a whore or a nigger again, I’ll cut your balls off. Got it?”
Bradley nodded.
“Get me out of here,” she snarled and stomped out of the room.
Saul bent over Bradley. “She might not cut your balls off, but I will,” he said softly then gave him a soft pat on the side of the face, causing Bradley to jerk his head away. “Sleep well, sunshine.”
***
“Damnit!” Saul muttered as he slipped out of his colors, his face twisting in pain. His arm and back hurt like a mother-fucker.
“Are you okay?” Angela asked as she helped him out of his jacket.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t act okay.”
“He didn’t put a finger
on me, but that damn vase!”
“Let me see,” she said as she helped him out of his shirt. There were no new cuts on his back, but he’d landed on the shard in the same place he’d previously cut his back, and the area around the cut was already beginning to bruise and swell.
“Your poor back,” she said, her mouth pulling down. She then held his arm up so she could see. The cut on his arm wasn’t large, but it was deep, and the bandage the paramedic had put on it already had a spot of blood on it from where it had soaked through. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “This is all my fault.”
“Don’t!” he said sharply. “Don’t even think shit like that. This isn’t your fault, it’s that fucking Bradley’s fault.” He tipped her eyes up to look at his. “I know you left coast types think Texans are nothing but a bunch of knuckle dragging Neanderthals, but we’re not. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met and the color of your skin makes you more beautiful still. You’re nothing like I thought you were when I first met you. You’re not only beautiful on the outside, but you’re beautiful on the inside, as well. Bradley was way out of line saying what he did, and it was my pleasure teaching him some manners.” He smiled at her as her eyes filled with tears. “We don’t cotton to men treating our fillies like that,” he said, laying on the Texas twang.
She sniffed out a laugh and wiped her eyes. “Am I your filly?”
He kissed her softly on the lips. “Starting to be.” He kissed her softly again then pulled back with a small smile. “But I don’t think I’m in any shape to be riding you tonight.”
She stared at him a moment then smiled, laying her head against his chest. She was struggling to hold her tears, touched by not only his words but his actions. She’d seen his eyes and face go hard when Bradley called her names, and he’d beaten the shit out of him for the insult. She thought she had thick skin, but she was still gratified Saul had kicked the shit out of him for saying it.
She sniffed then nodded her head against his chest. “That’s okay. I think I’d rather you just hold me anyway.”
He tipped her head up and smiled at her. “It’ll be my pleasure, little lady,” once again turning on the Texas accent. He held her eyes until she smiled. “There, that’s what I want to see,” he said, his voice back too normal before he softly took her lips in a slow and gentle kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
With only four hours of sleep, getting Angela to the set by seven had been a task. Word had spread about what happened last night and it amused him that most of the crew was more upset with Bradley for calling Angela a nigger than they were with him for nearly sending an innocent man to prison.
It was going to be a short filming day. They were going to shoot only Angela’s scenes, using a stand in for Bradley since he was busy at the police station and Saul had rearranged his face the night before.
Saul was manning the barricades when the message from Abana arrived. In the past week, the crowds had dwindled and become more respectful, especially during the week. They knew the rules and generally followed them, so the Pagans were down to only eight men, including himself, maintaining crowd control.
My business in Corpus Christie is complete. Your contact name is Donny Dinryder. Please report progress of meeting, the message read.
Saul smiled. Will setup meeting and report progress in a few days, he replied, then archived the message so he didn’t forget the name. Having the Corpse Killers taken care of was one less thing he had to worry about.
He hadn’t forgotten what he’d done, what his club had done, but that was behind them now and he sincerely hoped it would be thirty more years before his club had to bloody their hands like that again.
He looked up from his phone, checking the section of the barricade he was responsible for. Nothing seemed out of place so he began to slowly walk down the line, displaying the colors so to speak, but also because he hated just standing.
“Hey! Hey, you, motorcycle guy!” a voice called, a voice he recognized. He smiled and paused as Charlie forced himself to the front of the barricade.
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Yeah, well, I thought about leaving. I’m not all that impressed with Texas, I have to tell you.”
Saul chuckled. “Don’t forget, all your problems came from over there,” he said as he jerked his thumb back toward the production crew. “If you’re honest with yourself, you know brought some of your problems on yourself.”
Charlie looked down. “Okay, yeah. I can admit that. Listen, I want to tell you thanks.”
“For what?”
“They told me you came forward and defended me. It was you, right? They only told me it was one of the security people.”
Saul grinned. “Yeah, it was me.”
“Why?”
He chuckled. “Everybody seems so surprised it rankled me you might go to jail for something you didn’t do.”
Charlie grinned. “Did Angela get the Oscar?”
Saul chuckled again. “After all you went through, that’s what you’re worried about?” Charlie smiled and shrugged. “It’s in her room on a table where she can see it.”
“Thank you. My vacation is almost up and I’m going to be leaving for home in a couple of days, but I wanted to say thanks for helping me out. If you ever get to Pueblo, look me up. I’ll buy you dinner. You can reach me through the allaboutpoppy website.”
Saul smiled. “I’ll do that.”
“Please tell Angela thank you again for the autograph and the photos. I got my book back, but the photos disappeared.”
“The cops took your photos? Those thieving bastards.”
“I don’t know where they are. I may have lost them when Bradley jumped on me. I don’t remember seeing them after that.”
“Wait here,” Saul said then turned on his toe and walked away.
“Cut! Next scene,” Johnny said.
“Can I borrow Angela for a moment?” Saul asked.
“Sure. It’ll take us a half-hour to move the cameras and setup for the next scene.”
“Thanks.” When Angela glanced at him and smiled, he waved her over.
“What’s up?”
“Charlie’s here. He lost the photos you signed for him. Would you mind doing another set for him. I feel kind of bad for the guy with all he’s been through.
She smiled. “I feel bad for him, too. Sure. In fact, I’ll take them to him myself.” Angela moved to the table where all the passes and publicity materials were kept and dug out all the photos of her, seven in total instead of the three she’d signed before. One was a generic one of her looking seductive, wearing a sweater and jeans that showed off her curves to perfection, another was a close up of her face as she smiled at the camera as if she had a secret, the three of her in uniform she’d given him before. She also included one of her and Cora and another of her and Robert. He didn’t miss she didn’t include the one of her and Bradley. She quickly signed each photo with the marker that stayed on the table and smiled at him.
“Where is he?”
Saul grinned. Charlie was going to shit himself. “Right his way.”
“Are you Charlie?” Angela asked.
“Yes,” Charlie said, his eyes huge behind his glasses.
“Here you go,” Angela said, handing the photos over as the rest of the crowd looked on. “I want to thank you for the allaboutpoppy site. Seriously. There are some creepy ones out there, but yours isn’t one of them, so thank you for that.” She grinned at him. “How about after the move wraps, I do a quick ten or fifteen minute phone interview for you?”
Saul had to look away to hide his smile as Charlie grasped for something to say. “Thank you, Ms. Moncrief,” he finally said very formally. “I’m sure those who follow you on my site would enjoy hearing anything you have to say.”
“Call me Angela.”
Charlie beamed. “Thank you, Angela. Would you mind if I took a photo?” he asked, holding up his camera.
“Not at all,
” she said. “In fact...Saul, can you help us out here?” She held out her hand and Charlie handed her his camera. She passed it to Saul then held out her hand again. “Right over here,” she said. She pulled him a few feet from the barricade then turned him so his back was to the production. She stepped up beside him and beamed as Saul snapped three photos, Charlie’s face about to spit from his smile.
“There you go, Charlie,” Saul said handing him his camera.
“Thank you so much, uh, Angela! This has meant a lot to me! I can’t wait to write about it on my blog!”
SAUL: The Pagans MC Page 23
