Page 39 of Hell Bent

“Thanks, Razor, but I’m fine.” Hanging up, Sway tossed the phone on the bed and went to dry off and get dressed before the pizza delivery person showed up. Catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, she shook her head at her stubborn image. “You’re an idiot,” she told her reflection.

Vicious sat in his truck and watched the snow falling. Pulling the key from the ignition, he climbed out of the truck and headed for his place. He should have stayed and fought it out, but his anger had been at a hostile level. Even now, it was still clinging to him like a wet coat. Not wanting to make things worse, he came home.

Knowing himself like he did, Vicious knew going to the clubhouse would have led to booze, probably a fight, and who knows. With his mood and his history of self-sabotaging things, he might have even ended up in bed with a club girl. Something he wouldn’t be able to take back.

It was better to settle in with a frozen dinner and a movie. Tomorrow, he’d call Sway, and they’d work it out. Pulling out his phone, he was about to call Player when it rang in his hand. “Razor.”

“Sway called me. She was worried about you.”

“That’s sweet. I’m fine.”

“Okay, that’s all I needed to know.”

“Really?”

“Hey, if you say you’re good, I’ve got no reason to think otherwise, brother.”

“I’m home and staying here tonight. I’m sure come tomorrow we’ll work it out.”

Sounded good to Razor. He didn’t want to be more involved than what he already was. “Well . . .”

“Yeah.” Vicious chuckled when Razor hung up. Unlocking his front door, he knew Player and Joker were on their way. He smirked, thinking Sway was worried about him. He’dlet her worry a little longer, at least until he figured out how to get it through her damn thick head that he didn’t want her digging into Jerome, the Bloody Scorpions, or Dawson Franks, even if the guy was Lottie’s boyfriend.

Chapter Twenty-Four

A few of the brothers sat at a table in Boggs Bar. The bar was on the north end of town. Mostly industrial businesses, a few bars, and three or four restaurants were located in the area. Most people considered the area the wrong side of town. It was deep inside what was considered the Red-Light District.

It was one of those places where the men were known to hang out. Booths hugged the walls, and pool tables and dart boards were the main entertainment. A small stage for a band sat against the far wall. Stripper poles flanked both sides of the stage. Well-worn wooden stools stood like soldiers along the old maple bar, and a TV hung above an old, framed mirror.

The owner/bartender was Boggs, an all-around good guy as long as you played by the rules . . . and he made the rules. When he brought another round over, Teller made sure to thank him with a nice tip added to the bill. Keeping an eye on the patrons in the bar, Teller listened to the casual conversation the other brothers were having.

“Don’t forget we have company coming in for the birthday party.”

Player tipped back his beer bottle. “We need to get a Marilyn Monroe dress and some hooker-red lipstick.”

“You going drag on us?” Razor asked him.

Choking on his beer, Player shook his head. “Not me. Evidently, Croon lost a bet. I’m not sure what the bet was, but the dress and the lipstick were requested.”

“Costume shop on Twelfth.” Blackjack shrugged. “My friend works there,” he added when he got the stare-down.

“Who’s rolling up?”

“Squatch and Croon.”

“Just the two?”

“Seems so.”

“We’ll make sure they have a good time while they’re here.”

“Is this a surprise party for the VP, or does it matter?”

“The party, no. What Croon and Squatch have in store, yes.”

“Why are they coming all the way up here again?”

“Croon and Squatch are bringing up a ‘69 Road Runner for Joker.”

---