Page 17 of Beautiful Unity

Tiny’s fingers tapped against the table, his gaze calculated. There was so much being unsaid. Finally, he dropped his shoulders, seeming to come to some conclusion.

Unfortunately, before he could say anything, hands clamped down on mine and Pretty Boy’s shoulders. Tiny’s face hardened, and the earlier persona disappeared, telling me more than anything else. He’d trusted us, but this person wasn’t someone to mess with.

Fucking. Great.

“Gentlemen. I don’t recall getting your names, and seeing as I run this bar, it’s very rude to not introduce yourself when you step into my house.”

“I was just getting them registered, Brewer.”

“Were you now? Because it looked like you were flirting, and I won’t have any of that fruity stuff in my bar, Tiny. You know the rules.”

“Just chatting, Brewer. The big guy thinks he can take me.”

My face paled. No fucking way.

Brewer, who I still hadn’t been able to see, laughed obnoxiously in my ear. “All right. I reckon that’s a show I’d like to see. You’re up next.”

The asshole squeezed my shoulder tighter before sauntering back off to wherever the hell he’d been. Tiny nodded for us to follow the guy who escorted us. Pretty Boy met my eyes and swallowed. For the first time since I’d known him, he didn’t have a smile on his face, and his eyes held true fear.

This time, the crowd parted for us, and we stepped through a door at the back. Shouting and grunts accosted us, and the smell of sweat and blood was stronger here. We were high up on a level, and as we moved, I saw what lay below—a fighting pit.

Two men whaled on each other, their faces and knuckles bloody. Gulping, I prayed that Tiny had a plan because there was no way I could fight him. I might look tough and rough, but I wasn’t a fighter. Fuck. This had been a terrible idea. We were going to be killed in this cesspool.

Our escort pushed open another door and ushered us in. Grayson and I were hesitant to step into the dark space, but it was better than staying out there. Once the door was closed, someone reached and pulled a tiny bulb overhead. It cast the four of us in shadow, yellowing our faces and making our eyes appear like two dark orbs.

“You better be serious or you just got us all killed,” Tiny whisper-hissed. “Is she here?”

“Not here,” Pretty Boy said, making the other two curse.

“She’s close, though. Mad Dog’s with her.”

“He got out? Hell yeah. We might just have a chance, Tiny,” the man from outside said, turning to look at the bigger man. Tiny’s face softened, and I caught the look of affection between them.

“I’m Bubba, and this is Pretty Boy. Mad Dog and our other brother, Cowboy, are with Darcie. She sent us to find you, Red, Brick, or Bullet.”

Tiny’s face fell at the mention of the other two names. “Bullet and Red are dead and Brick turned two years ago.”

“Fuck. I guess that answers the question of whether Stanley’s fully taken over the Mavericks,” Grayson said.

“What clued you in?” the little guy asked sardonically.

“What’s your name?” I asked, wanting to call him something other than ‘that guy’ in my head.

“Mack. I was a prospect when Darcie fled. That’s the night everything changed.”

“Is her dad, Tank, still around?”

Mack and Tiny shared a look. “He’s not dead, if that’s what you mean, but he’s a different man. There’s not much fight left in him.”

Loud cheers erupted outside, and Tiny stiffened. “Fuck. We’re out of time. So here’s the deal. We have no reason to trust you, and you have no reason to trust us, but for the love of that girl, I’m hoping we can. Our window to get away before Brewer comes looking is dwindling, so unless you want to fight me, you need to follow us.”

Grayson and I shared a look but it was unnecessary. Darcie and Maddox trusted Tiny, and my gut hadn’t pinged when talking with Mack outside, so as far as I was concerned, they had my trust.

It had nothing to do with not wanting to fight him.

Diary #6

Dear Dad,

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