Page 3 of Sprite

“Well, that won’t be a problem,” he assured. “I’ve already moved on.” That was a total lie too. He hadn’t moved on and damn it, he planned on asking her out again the next time he saw her, not that he’d tell Savage that.

“She’s just been through a lot,” Savage said. “I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“And you think that I’m the kind of guy that would hurt her?” he asked.

“That’s not what I said. I just don’t want to see Sprite hurt,” Savage repeated.

“Yeah, I got that loud and clear,” Chains said.

“Great,” Savage growled, “while I have you, I was hoping to talk to you about being our Sergeant-at-Arms for the club.” It was an honor that Savage was asking him to fulfill such a role in the Royal Bastards, and there was no way that he’d tell him no.

“You have the background, with your military experience, and I know the guys really like you,” Savage continued.

“I really appreciate the offer,” Chains said, “and my answer is yes. I’d love to be your Sergeant-at-Arms.” His Prez was right—his military career had given him the necessary experience to fulfill the role.

“What’s your schedule like at Redstone Arsenal?” Savage asked. “I don’t want to interfere with your work.” He had worked for Redstone for over a year now, since being transferred to Huntsville, and he had to admit, he loved his new job.

“I’m basically nine to five, but I have flexibility. You just tell me what you need, and I’ll be here,” Chains promised.

“Thanks, man,” Savage said, slapping him on the back. “I won’t forget this favor.”

“You don’t owe me anything Savage,” he insisted. Chains wanted to ask if he’d put in a good word with Sprite, but he had a feeling that he knew what Savage’s response would be. That was okay, he’d find a way to get her number, even if he had to grovel.

Chains walked into Savage Hell and found Sprite behind the bar again. He’d waited two nights to see her, and tonight, he’d finally get his chance to ask her for her phone number again. He walked up to the bar and noticed that she was wearing sunglasses, and he wondered what that was all about.

“What’s up with the sunglasses?” he asked, sitting up to the bar.

Sprite flashed him her best smile and he instantly knew that something was up with her. She never smiled at him that way. “My future’s so bright, I have to wear shades,” she teased.

“Ha, ha,” Chains grumbled. Getting a straight answer out of Sprite was like pulling teeth. “You want to try again?”

“No, because it’s none of your business as to why I’m wearing sunglasses,” she spat. Sprite turned her back on him and he wanted to demand that she not ignore him—as if that would do him any good. “I was just making conversation,” he lied. It was bugging him that she wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

“Well, now you’ve made me feel bad for being a bitch to you,” she said. “Here, have a beer on me,” she said, handing him a tall glass. She leaned in close enough for him to see the bruises on her arm and cheek. Sprite was wearing sunglasses to hide bruises and that plain pissed him off.

“Who did that to you, Sprite?” Chains asked.

“Did what?” she asked, playing dumb.

“Stop,” Chains ordered. Half the guys in the bar turned to watch them, including Savage. “Just give me a straight answer, Sprite. I want to help you.”

“I don’t need any help,” she insisted. “I can handle myself.”

“Was it a boyfriend?” he asked, pushing her for answers. The thought of her having a boyfriend made him madder than he’d been in a damn long time. He had no claim to this woman, yet he somehow felt protective of her.

“I told you, I don’t have a boyfriend, Chains,” Sprite said.

“No, you told me that you wouldn’t give me your number because you don’t date guys in the Royal Bastards. You never said that you don’t have a boyfriend.” He could tell that she was thinking over their prior conversation and when she realized that he was right, she just shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Well, I don’t have a boyfriend,” she repeated.

“Then who gave you those bruises, Sprite?” he asked again.

“If you must know, it was my mother’s boyfriend. I came home from work the other night to find him drunk, and he got a little bit handsy. I told him to keep his fucking hands off me and he lost it,” Sprite said. She took a step back from him as if trying to hide after telling him the truth. “Do you feel better now that you know?” she almost whispered. Nothing about her situation made him feel better.

“No,” he breathed. “You live at home with your mom?” he asked.

She nodded, “Yeah, I was trying to save money for my own place. I just got a job at an accounting firm, and I work here nights to earn extra money, but I still have to pay my mom rent and half the utilities, so it’s taking me a while.”

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