by Evelyn Glass
“She’s a beaut, Butch.” Deke tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze focused on something out the window. “You’ll go see it soon enough.”
Something squeezed at his knee. Butch’s senses prickled and he realized it was Gidget, snaking her hand back up along his thigh. He tensed, glancing over at her. She kept her distance, playing it cool, but damnit, she was playing the vixen part.
He shifted in his seat, trying to ward her off. This was not the time or the place. “You think he’ll have it done on time?”
Deke opened his mouth to reply, but his eyebrows knit together. Nothing came out of his mouth as his gaze followed something out the window.
“What is it?” Butch twisted to following his gaze, as did Gidget. Three bikes approached from the main road, pulling right into the parking lot next to Deke and Butch’s bike.
“Fuck.” Deke’s nostrils flared. “Them are Skulls.”
Tension slithered through Butch’s body and he sat up straighter, observing the situation before he reacted. The three Skulls parked their bikes, then made a big display of checking out Butch and Deke’s bikes. Nodding, they headed toward the diner, their pieces glinting in the sunlight outside.
“Fuck,” Deke repeated.
Gidget fidgeted beside him. “Those are the guys who chased me a few weeks ago.”
Butch’s throat tightened. The day he’d saved her. So these guys were going to have a huge chip on their shoulders. He looked over at her. “Just stay low and stay quiet. We’re gonna handle this.”
The door creaked open and Butch watched as the Skulls sauntered in. For him, the world shrunk to encompass only the three newcomers, but the diner chattered on, unaware of the tense confrontation brewing like a thunderstorm.
The lead Skull swept his gaze around the diner, and then it landed on Butch. Goosebumps ignited on his forearms and he didn’t look away. Wouldn’t look away. Because something told him their lives depended on it.
“They’re heading this way,” Butch murmured for Deke’s sake, watching as the three Skulls strutted toward them like proud cocks. A waitress tried to offer them menus but none of them paid her any attention. Boots clomping, they arrived to their corner table, the lead Skull smiling down at them like he’d just caught a fish in his teeth.
“Look who it is.” The dark-haired lead fondled a gun in his jacket, making it obvious. “Exactly the sons of bitches I’ve been hoping to run into for three weeks now.”
“Leave us the fuck alone,” Deke spat. “We aren’t bothering you.”
“Yeah, but the problem is you bother us.” The Skull gripped the edge of the table, leaning down to talk to them. A tattoo peeked out from the collar of his leather jacket, and his two cronies circled in tight.
“Can I get you three a menu—” A waitress began.
“Not now, honey.” The lead Skull turned to face her, a snide smile on his face. Butch’s fingers flexed at the distraction. That would have been a good time to strike. But not here. Not with so many witnesses. Not when he was fresh out of jail.
“What do you want?” Butch kept his voice level, snagging the lead Skull’s eyes. Every cell in his body told him they weren’t escaping without a confrontation, but he’d do his best to avoid it. Even if it was a fool’s hope.
“We want the girl.”
Gidget reached out for Butch’s leg, but this time desire didn’t shoot through him. He knew this was all about fear.
“Fuck off, Chach,” Gidget said, her voice wavering only slightly. “I told you assholes in the bar I’m not into what you have to offer.”
The two guys at the side stepped in closer. “I told you my name isn’t Chach, it’s Chase.” Chase’s eyes grew foreboding, like he might snap at the provocation. “And if you get it wrong again I’ll make you pay like I was going to the other day.”
“Stay quiet,” Butch said under his breath, turning to face Gidget.
“We’re prepared to make this messy,” Chase said, his voice eerily calm. “After everything you Carvers have done to us, throughout all these years, we’re more than overdue for this sort of...repayment.”
Deke huffed with a laugh. “You’re fucking insane.”
“We’re not negotiating,” Butch said, his heart picking up a rapid clip in his chest. “You don’t make deals like this in a diner.”
“No?” Chase pulled back a little, giving a sardonic grin. “Well, shit. I thought that’s how all hostage situations began. In the middle of a diner.”
“You try anything, they’ll call the cops.” Deke said. “Neither side needs that right now. Think with the right head.”
Butch’s jaw tensed as Chase slipped his hand inside his cut.
“Oh, I’m thinking with the right head.” Chase slipped out his gun, brought it right to the side of Butch’s temple. “Are you gonna think with yours?”
Butch stilled, the cold metal of the barrel digging into his skin. Deke reached for his gun but Chase tutted.
“We’ll do this quietly,” Chase said. The gun clicked. From the corner of his eye, he saw the two Skulls at his side draw their own guns. Curse words stormed through his head. How you gonna get out of this one?
“You’re gonna cause a scene,” Butch said, keeping his voice low. He scanned the line of booths in front of him. Nobody had noticed yet, but he wasn’t sure what was worse—the diner reacting or this unfolding beneath their noses.
“Not if you hand over the girl.” Chase’s voice had an edge to it, one that sent Butch’s pulse racing.
“I’m not going with you. You’re a bunch of sleazebags.” Gidget sounded way more confident than he’d expected.
Chase laughed haughtily. “And this from the mouth of a whore? Don’t worry, we’ll put that pretty little mouth to use soon enough. Like I’ve been planning all along.”
Butch’s muscles twitched, containing the violent urges coursing through him. He’d pummel this guy to a pulp and then he’d do the same to the other two. A gasp rang through the diner, followed by a plate smashing against the floor. Butch’s gaze sought out the source—a waitress across the diner stood frozen in terror, staring at Chase’s gun.
Chase disengaged momentarily, Butch could feel him lose his focus and slip away. Butch took that chance to grab his wrist, wringing it violently to the side, pinning Chase between the booth and the wall so hard that he thought his head cracked open.
“You touch her and you die,” Butch snarled, pressing his knee into the back of his neck. Chase mumbled something incoherent while the diner erupted in chaos behind them. Word must be spreading. Nervousness jolted through the diner and Deke kept his gun trained on the two Skulls, who looked like they were ready to run.
“I’m calling the police!” Someone’s voice rang through the diner, and Butch knew the time was now or never. He rammed his knee into the back of Chase’s neck while he yanked violently on the arm he had pinned behind his back, executing a move that he knew would dislocate the shoulder, or at least severely injure him.
Chase groaned and went limp beneath him. His two sidekicks tugged at Butch, shouting warnings. “Get the fuck off of him or we’ll shoot.”
“The police are on their way!” A nervous female voice shouted across the diner.
“Shit,” swore one of the Skulls.
“We have to get out of here,” Deke said, tugging at Butch shoulder. “Come on. Let his guys take him and get the fuck out of here.”
Butch stumbled backward and the two Skulls descended on Chase, propping him up so they could help him to standing. Chase’s face was contorted in pain.
“You motherfucker,” Chase spat as his club brothers propped him up. “You’re gonna pay for this.”
Chase’s words cycloned in his head, pushing him over the edge again. “Fuck you,” Butch spat, and buried his fist into his gut.
“Butch!” Gidget shrieked, tugged at his arm. She had climbed out of the booth and was heading down the aisle toward the door, her face streaked with worry. “Come on, let
’s get out of here.”
Butch backed away, slowly realizing that the diner had mostly emptied out. Patrons waited outside, others backed onto the far side. Worried faces told him all he needed to know. They’d recognized the latent danger here.
“Come on.” Deke bolted toward the front door, and he and Gidget followed suit. Outside, the sun bore down heavy, threatening storms with the tight curl of humidity.
“I’m gonna stay back,” Deke announced, handing Gidget and Butch their helmets. “Just to make sure everything clears out here. The police are on their way, and I’m on good terms with them.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Butch said, sliding his leg over the bike.
“No, but who knows what everyone else saw.”
“To them it was just a biker gang fight,” Gidget said, sliding onto the bike behind him. “Who cares when the Carvers have beef with the Skulls?”
“But depending on who saw what, it might have looked like Butch started it.” Deke grimaced.
“But they fucking threatened to take me hostage and rape me!” Gidget’s voice was shrill, reflecting the same emotion that had prompted Butch to break Chase’s damn arm.
“Go straight to the clubhouse and wait there. We’ll figure this out.” He rapped his knuckles on the back of Butch’s bike. Butch revved the engine and tore out of the parking lot, gravel dust spraying behind him, just as Chase and his cronies hobbled out of the diner.
He blazed down the road, as fast as he could go, eager to get to the clubhouse. He’d done what felt right. How else could he protect him and Gidget in the face of threats? And he’d done it without making an enormous scene. He should be congratulated, really.
“That was so scary.”
Gidget’s shaky voice next to his ear made his chest tighten. He was too pumped up on adrenaline to think about how that might have been for her, the bystander being threatened. But the mere thought of her getting hurt, being touched by one of those idiots made the rage slither through him all over again.
“I know. I’m sorry that happened.” He squinted into the sun as they headed for the clubhouse. When they pulled into the parking lot and the main gates slid shut behind them, he relaxed a little, the threat of Skulls or police now safely behind them. For now.
Gidget hopped off the bike and paced over the cement, her face knit with worry. “They put a gun to your head, Butch.”
“I’ve had worse done to me. What they threatened you with was unforgiveable.”
She huffed. “But how come you didn’t shit your pants or something? He was like a breath away from shooting you. I fucking heard him pull the trigger.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t against your head.”
“Your life?” Gidget’s voice rang shrill. She grabbed him by the arm when he started for the clubhouse. “Your life matters too. Just because you’re assigned to be at my side doesn’t mean you don’t matter.”
Her words hit a place inside him too deep to properly register. A place that hadn’t been touched since he was a kid. “Listen, we made it out fine. We’re both fine. And now we need to focus on the next step. Shit is way more dangerous for you than we both realized.”
Butch stormed toward the clubhouse, anxious to meet with Geo and get a game plan going. Because now the stakes were too high—they weren’t just after the brothers, they wanted to take Gidget down personally. And who knew to what depths they’d stoop to get her.
Butch’s performance today could only stoke the fire.
CHAPTER NINE
Gidget laid on the couch in the den, leg bouncing as she waited for something. Anything. Butch and her dad had immediately disappeared into the Sanctuary, so who knew what brewed inside there. Anxiety sawed at her, for reasons she couldn’t fully understand. The Carvers weren’t at fault today—Butch had defended himself, and Gidget. So why did it feel like shit was about to hit the fan?
She prayed that Deke had called them, given them an update about something. He paid the police off. Or better yet, all the witnesses saw exactly what had happened—a Skull threatening an innocent girl for no good reason.
The door to the clubhouse opened and Deke stormed inside, his face streaked with concern. Before he could say anything, she pointed to the Sanctuary. He disappeared inside, leaving a thick wake of tension behind him.
Gidget hopped to her feet, pacing. It just felt bad—really bad. Butch had been held at gunpoint, and she’d been threatened with kidnap. What a fun Friday this is turning out to be. At least with Butch at her side, she’d felt secure and like she could have a semblance of a life despite the escalating tensions. Now, she barely wanted to step foot outside of the clubhouse.
And what about work? She gnawed at a nail, cursing herself when the opal polish chipped. This new job was important. She liked it. But what if the Skulls showed up there sometime and caused a ruckus? Her boss didn’t know she was associated with the Carvers. Hell, she might not have been hired if Frida had known about the ways in which biker drama could implode and take everyone down in the process. Could Butch alone prevent a surprise attack one day while she was at work?
She’d worked herself up into a mess and there was no unraveling her stomach now. She stomped her foot, staring at the Sanctuary doors. Come on, guys…throw me a bone. If she had to wait much longer she’d go crazy.
The doorknob jiggled. She froze in her spot, staring at the door. Silence again. She deflated and continued pacing.
Today had been a wake-up call. Her dad had been right—extra protection in the form of Butch was more than necessary—and the way things stood now, they might never return to normalcy. Things could only get a lot worse before they got better.
The door finally swung open. She wrung her hands as Deke came out, followed by Butch, then her dad. Each man wore a heavy look.
“There you are, honey.” Her daddy’s voice sounded strained, like he’d been awake for days. “We need to talk.”
“What happened?” She looked at Butch, trying to read his face. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. His mouth was a thin line, hands shoved into pockets.
A heavy pause settled among them. Then her dad spoke. “I think it’s best if you left town for a while.”
She blinked, the words circling strangely in her head. “What do you mean?”
Her dad came nearer, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m going to have Butch take you out of town. It’s too dangerous for you right now to stay here. Today was proof of that.”
She swallowed hard. That didn’t seem fair. She had to run away? “But I can’t miss work.”
“Honey, we’ll talk to your boss. She’ll understand.”
“No. I don’t want you talking to her. She can’t know—” She stopped herself before she said more and betrayed the emotion tightening her chest.
“Your life is more important than a job,” he continued. “We’ll work it out—trust me.” He had the firm tone that told her this wasn’t up for discussion.
“Where are we going?”
Her dad turned slightly, looking back over his shoulder at Butch. “He knows.”
Butch’s gaze met hers briefly and she felt scorched. Any other time or circumstance, her and Butch heading out of town the two of them would be a good thing. A getaway. A fun vacation. But now? This was fucked.
“Well do I get to know too?”
“He’s figuring that out. You’ll know soon. Now you should go pack. You two might need to be gone for a while.”
“Well, why does Butch have to steer clear? He didn’t do anything wrong.” Not that she wanted anyone else at her side while skipping town.
“Butch was ID’d at the diner,” Deke spoke up, his voice meek. “The waitress got confused and told the police that Butch incited everything.”
“So you see it’s even more important for the both of you to stay low for a while,” her daddy said, his voice softer this time. “Go on, Gidge. Get packed. You guys need to get out of here.”
Frustration
bubbled hot inside her and she huffed, storming to her bedroom. Of course this was the best option, especially if her daddy decided it—but she couldn’t feel much beyond unfairness. The shock, sliding thick and gunky over her, clouding her vision.
She yanked her closet door open, rummaging for a motorcycle-friendly suitcase. When she turned, Butch leaned against the doorframe.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you need to pack?” She tossed the suitcase on her bed, stomping over to the dresser.
“You know better than anyone that I don’t have shit to take with me.” A grin flashed across his face. “You don’t need to be so pissy about this. It’s for your own safety.”
