Page 49 of Bishop

Boots steered us toward the bar as soon as we entered. “What are you ladies feeling like drinking tonight?”

“Margaritas!” Amelia cheered, the biggest smile spread across her full, glossy lips.

I didn’t care. I was just happy to be out of my apartment and to have made such wonderful new friends. “Margaritas sound good.”

“Coming right up,” Boots said, turning to the bartender to order our drinks.

Two hours and four margaritas later, I was really starting to have a good time. The liquor had gone straight to my head and I was feeling no pain.

Boots dropped off our fifth drink of the night, handing Amelia hers first. He paused when he saw the glassiness behind my eyes. “You want water instead, lightweight?”

I frowned at his paternal question and Amelia smacked his arm. “Don’t be that guy, Boots. Evie’s old enough to decide when she’s done drinking or not.”

“Just barely,” Boots groused, watching me closely. “And I don’t need Bishop pissed at me for making his girl sick.”

“I’m fine,” I told him, swiping the drink out of his hands and taking a large sip to prove it. The floor swam a bit, but it righted itself after a second or two.

“Let me know if you’re going to be sick,” he warned. “Until I get my patch next month, it’s still my duty to clean the Mercedes if anyone pukes in it.”

A fast song with a raging beat began to play overhead and Amelia squealed with delight. “I love this song! Come on, Evie. Let’s dance!”

Boots groaned. “Every time you dance, Amelia, I got to beat some guy up. Can we just cool it for one night?”

Amelia beamed back at him. “Nope. I want to dance!”

Pulling me onto the dance floor where a bunch of girls were already shaking it, we joined the throng of undulating bodies. Like everything else she did, Amelia was an exceptional dancer. I wasn’t bad, but I was nowhere near as good as she was.

The alcohol and Amelia’s tutelage helped a lot though. Soon, I was relaxing and letting go. The music poured over and pulsed through me. I felt free and weightless for the first time in a long time.

Amelia danced beside me, swiveling her hips back and forth. Her long blonde hair was done in fat barrel curls and swung loosely around her body. She was wearing a red tube top and fitted jeans. On her feet were spiked red heels that made her tower over my diminutive five-foot-two frame.

When our song finished, Amelia shouted, “I need some water. How about you?”

I nodded my agreement and she took me by the hand, leading me toward the bar. A group of bikers that I didn’t recognize were standing on the edge of the dancefloor, watching us with hungry looks that left nothing to the imagination.

Boots was staring in their direction, his phone pressed to his ear when we arrived. “We’re leaving,” he spoke, brooking no arguments.

“Why?” Amelia pressed, not ready to end the good time train.

“Because I spot trouble and I’m outnumbered,” he answered frankly.

Looking over her shoulder, Amelia clocked the guys in question. “Who are they? I’ve never seen them before.”

“The Watchmen,” Boots informed us. “And they aren’t friends of the Devils.”

The person on the other line picked up then and Boots began to explain the situation. He was quiet for a moment before he said goodbye and hung up. “Come on. We’re leaving,” he ordered, ushering us toward the door.

Unfortunately for us, several of the Watchmen had anticipated our next move and were blocking the exit when we got there.

“You’re not leaving,” the one whose patch read, “President,” declared.

Boots shoved us behind him, and said, “Get the fuck out of my way, Maze! This is Devil's Rider territory. You do not want to cross this line!”

Chapter 12

Evie

“You can leave, Brother,” Maze said, his bearded face breaking out in a smile. “But me and my boys want to get to know the two women you got with you. They stay.”

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