Page 33 of Fire for Effect

Ugh, what was it with rich people always wanting free shit? I had no choice. I opened a tab, and Griff was on it.

That was just so typical. The intimacy of what we had when we were alone never matched what we had in public - the one where we were just buddies. I was just one of the guys. For all my regrets, leaving him the morning after our mistake was not one of them. Moments like this told me why.

“Is the kitchen still open?” Griff asked after Ellen placed the beer in front of him, and practically slid mine towards me. She didn’t even have the decency to give me a paper napkin.

“Of course!” she said, wiping her hands on her apron, before pulling out a food menu.

Griff took it and perused as I grabbed my bottle of beer before saying, “I’m going to the Jukebox.”

He didn’t look away from the menu as he dug into his pocket, pulling out several quarters and holding them out to me.

“Breakfast Club,” was all he said, before dismissing me entirely and making conversation with Ellen about the offerings.

I guess I wasn’t going to eat tonight.

I placed my hand on the old Jukebox. It was the size of an old pacman game, and the songs listed in it hadn’t really been updated since 1995. Not that I minded. I preferred music before Y2K.

I put in some coins for Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds when a long shadow blocked the overhead light.

“About your Ducati…” The voice drawled, and my head whipped up. It was him. The gray haired man from the Prodigal Sons, his cut still on his shoulders, emphasizing his thick biceps as he crossed his arms. “I can’t imagine you haven’t tried to clock it. So what’d you get it to?”

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t speed.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that you did, kid,” he chuckled, as he leaned his back onto the Jukebox, staring down at me. “I’m not a Fed, so it’s not like I’d report you.”

Something about those brown eyes unsettled me. Almost as if I’d seen them before, but that couldn’t be.

“Don’t bullshit me.” I turned to him fully, my fingers itching for the gun at my back.

I had a concealed carry for moments just like this. For moments when a vindictive asshole would come around, getting revenge for some guy I dumped at the bondsman. But I didn’t expect them to come at me in a bar. I didn’t expect it where others might see. It witnesses complicated things.

But Griff was here. He’d have my back.

“What do you want?” I asked, my body square to his.

But he stayed casual. “I’m just talking about bikes.”

I scoffed. “Cut the bullshit. I know you saw me arrest your buddy, Kyle Lowell.”

He gave a slow, solemn nod. “Yeah, that was too bad. But if you think I’m here to give you a rough time about it, you’re wrong. Kyle was an asshole, and I told him not to skip bail. He got what was coming to him. We’ll handle the rest the way we’d handle anything else.”

I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. “Sounds awfully civilized for an MC.”

“It’s not,” he said with a small tilt of his head. His brown eyes seemed almost green in the center. It was an unusual combination. “But you ain’t got nothing to worry about while I’m around.”

He turned his head, scanning the room, where some of his guys sat at tables with women on their arms, hunched like the depressed gargoyles on the top of a cathedral.

“But that only goes while I’m in the room, you get me?”

“Why?” Alarm bells were ringing in my head. Who was this guy, and what the hell did he want? They always wanted something. “You get that I’m not going to sleep with you, right?”

No one gave anything for free, especially not protection. I wanted to kill that possibility as soon as possible. It was a habit formed from years of being surrounded by men in the Army. Too many men and not enough women to go around could really make a whacked out society.

The old man almost snorted the beer out of his nose.

“Jesus, no!” He wiped at his nose, as he pulled the bottle from his lips. “God, you’re young enough to be my kid. What do you think I am?”

He seemed truly disgusted with the idea of being with a younger woman.

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