Page 92 of Break Out

My ears were attuned to the sound of bikes and I paused midway to the door. Through the windows I saw three bikes roll into the parking lot. They weren’t Devil Lancers, and I acted on instinct.

“Don’t argue with me, go to the bathroom. It’s to your right. Stay in there until I text you.”

She gave me a hard look, nodded, then hurried to the restroom.

I strode outside, so this wouldn’t be public – or, more public.

The three men swung off their bikes and I saw it was the Corrupt Chrome road captain, Flip; their enforcer, Mug; and their Vice President, Sledge.

Sledge had brown frizzy hair styled in a mullet. He got toe-to-toe with me. “What the hell are you doin’ here? Where’s your fuckin’ bike?”

“What do you want, Sledge?”

He squinted his beady, brown eyes. “You givin’ us some kind of bullshit? Scar gave us your message. You aren’t calling the shots. Now that we know you’re in town, you’re meeting with Knuckles, tonight.”

After he gave me the run-down on Circles and the girls, Torque had told me about Mug cornering him at the Player’s Palace Thursday night. Seemed Mug needed to work on his enforcing skills because Torque had seen the attack coming, and laid Mug out on the sidewalk outside the club.

“Wrong. I won’t be in town tonight. He can meet with me next Saturday, or better yet, you assholes can get the hell out of Augusta and stop fucking with my club.”

Flip smiled at Sledge. “Guess we’ll have to run circles around this moron.”

I kept my eyes pinned to Sledge, but I saw Mug’s roundhouse coming my way and I ducked. Sledge moved closer, landing a sucker punch to my gut.

“What the fuck are you assholes doing?” a deep voice bellowed from behind us.

I straightened, still struggling to get my breathing back to normal. Jesse, the owner of the Great Times Barbeque restaurant lumbered out from the side of the building. He wore faded denim coveralls with a rust-colored t-shirt and a gray Georgia baseball cap which he’d turned backward. Very few people ever messed with Jesse because he had the build of a Mack truck and his six-foot six-inch frame towered over most people.

He came closer, his eyes narrowed on Sledge. “I asked you a question.”

Sledge stared at Jesse. “Our friend is having stomach problems. Maybe it’s food poisoning.”

Mug chuckled.

“Don’t fuck with me. I know he ain’t your friend. Unless you want real problems, get out of here before I call the police.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Flip muttered.

“I saw you assholes corner this man, and so did half a dozen other customers. One of them might have it on their cell phone.”

Sledge blinked and turned his head a inch toward Flip. “We’re leaving,” he whispered.

“I thought so,” Jesse said.

My breathing had regulated, and I stood next to Jesse in the parking lot. We watched them leave.

He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You got that kind of trouble, I don’t mind you doin’ that Doordash shit instead of bringing those thugs to my door.”

I sighed and nodded. “You aren’t usually outside during a lunch rush. How did you know—”

“I might have had something to do with that,” Simone said from behind us coming around the side of the building – the same way Jesse had.

“I told you—”

She shook her head. “And I kept a low profile for as long as I could. The moment I caught sight of those bastards, I knew you needed reinforcements.”

Jesse grinned. “She’s a smart lady. My wife woulda charged right out here.”

I gave Jesse a dry look. “She wanted to do that, too. I happened to tell her not to before I came out here.”

---