Page 21 of Fighting a Riot

Her lips rolled into a contemplative pout. “One day, you’ll wish you had.”

“I’ll walk you to your—”

Yak glared at Punc. “No fraternization. You know that.”

“This may be too little too late, but don’t blame the new guy, Yak,” Lucy said.

He shook his head at her. “Blame never helps situations like this, but he’s damn sure gonna learn a fuckin’ lesson.”

She frowned and heaved a heavy exhale. “Your business, but it wasn’t his fault.”

Yak dipped his chin. “He didn’t do his job. We’ll never know, but if he’d done his fuckin’ job you’d probably still have your tips and you wouldn’t feel unsafe leaving this place.”

She shook her head. “I’m a big girl. It’ll take more than that asshole to make me feel unsafe.”

“You’re sure there was just one? Not two, someone else hanging back?”

Her lips puffed out in a pout. “I don’t think so. Not that I could see, but that shit happened so fast. For all I know, there could have been.”

Punc shook his head. “Turk watched the security feed like five times. He said there was just one guy.”

Yak nodded. “All right, Lucy. Go get ready, and knock ‘em dead.”

She grinned. “I always do.”

“Where’s Prime?” Yak asked Punc.

“At the clubhouse. Blood caught wind of what happened and blackened both of Prime’s eyes. Turk figured Prime being on the floor with two shiners was bad for business.”

Yak tipped his head to the side. “Yeah. Too bad it’s good for Prime, because I’d have bloodied his nose.”

“Didn’t know y’all cared so much—”

Yak tossed his reading glasses on the desk. “Jesus, Puncture! Get your head out of your ass. We don’t protect the girls, they won’t be on stage to perform, because they’ll go to a fuckin’ club that offers security.”

Punc moved closer to the door. “Sorry, man. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Not shooting the messenger, I’m educating you. Now, get back to work.”

His cell chimed with a text message.

He unlocked the screen and saw Trixie’s name.

Me and Nora are set for tomorrow! We’re at Carmine’s you want me to get you a sandwich or a pie?

It felt like a five-hundred pound weight had been lifted. Someone would be with her. He’d have preferred it to be Abby, since she was a nurse, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

His finger hovered over the screen when Trixie sent another message - this one a picture. Trixie sat next to Nora in a high-backed wooden booth. She held a bottle of Yuengling aloft while Nora held up a glass of white wine. Trixie’s grin was big and bright. He might have imagined it, but Nora’s smile looked patient and almost forced. Then again, Trixie was a force to be reckoned with.

Even Nora’s forced smile gutted him.

He pressed on the photo, intending to delete it.

Next thing he knew, he’d saved it.

Shit.

He tapped out a quick reply telling Trixie he wouldn’t get home until after three in the morning and he didn’t need food tonight.

---