Page 8 of Chubs

“Why not have him walk you down the aisle?” Livi suggests.

“Because I asked Trigger to do that,” Pippa answers while pressing her fingers against her temples.

“Luke’s coming to the wedding. What if Craig stood off to the side, upfront, and signed the ceremony? He’s the best anyway, and he always looks out for Luke to make sure he feels included,” Ava offers up another solution.

“That’s a great idea! He can be the interpreter!” Bailey agrees.

“I’ll do it, but know I’m only doing it so Luke doesn’t feel left out like I do,” Craig announces from the hallway before turning away and slamming a door shut behind him.

“Chubs swears that kid has bat ears and their hearing abilities,” I mumble to the stunned room.

“What’s the odds that he’ll only sign the words spoken during the ceremony?” Tammy asks the quiet room.

“Zero,” Ava and I answer at the same time.

Chapter 3

Chubs

I successfully avoid the two Feds that have been dying to corner me for a few more days before my luck runs out. Walking out the back door of a favorite diner of mine, I’m suddenly faced with both of them, and their impatience radiates off of them in waves.

“Hey, guys. Why the long faces?” I joke as I angle myself to brush past them.

“You’re coming with us today. Let’s make this easy on everyone—” the agent I refer to as Mole Face starts to say before I interrupt him.

“Got a warrant?” I ask with a laugh because I know they don’t.

“We’re done playing this by the rulebook, Brock. Get in the car,” agent number two, or Pig Ass as I call him, states in a demanding tone.

“Rulebook?” I question sarcastically as I plant my shoulder against Pig Ass’s with enough force to make him take a step backward. “No one’s ever told me you guys follow rules. What page of your rulebook says it’s standard procedure to use force, blackmail, and threats to get someone to do what you want them to?”

“This doesn’t have to get ugly, Brock,” Mole Face barks while reaching for my wrist.

“I disagree,” I state as I plant both hands on his chest and shove hard. “I like ugly.”

As I finish my words, I swing out with a booted foot and crash it into the side of his knee, dropping him like a stone. Turning swiftly, I pop a few right hooks into Pig’s chin before finishing with a left. My blows rock him, but he stays standing. While we square off, Mole rejoins the fight from the ground and wraps his arms around my legs, throwing me off balance. Pig takes advantage and tackles me. I slam hard onto the cement, with his stout body landing on mine.

“What the fuck’s going on?” a male voice shouts at the same time I start throwing elbows into the agents.

“They’re trying to rob me,” I grunt out, lying through my teeth and not caring in the least.

Asa, the cook of the restaurant I just walked out of, comes to my defense. Young guy, somewhat heavyset, he uses his feet with wicked intent. I almost grin when I hear the pained gasps and exclamations of the agents when his feet meet with vulnerable places. Fighting my way to standing, I take a step to stand near Asa.

“We’re federal agents!” shouts Pig Ass as he rolls away, desperate to avoid any more boot marks on his hide.

“Only thing I hate worse than a thief is a Fed,” Asa growls back as he continues his assault, now with my help. I laugh a little at that comment as Asa renews his attack, proving how true it is.

After a few more well-placed kicks, the agents gain their feet and make tracks to their car. As they climb inside it, Mole shouts, “This isn’t over!”

“Come back for seconds anytime!” Asa returns, breathing heavy.

After the car leaves, I turn to Asa and place a hand on his shoulder.

“No way to thank—” I start before Asa cuts me off.

“No need to, Chubs. You’re good people, and my mom would disown me if she ever knew you were in trouble and I didn’t help. Glad I was here. I’m not going to ask any questions, but just know if there’s anything we can ever help you with, you know where to find us,” Asa says quietly but firmly before walking back inside.

Walking to my bike, I straddle it before strapping on my helmet. Time to get to the garage before Trigger comes into work. I’m not sure I’m up for another fight today and especially not with that tricky little bastard.

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