Page 9 of Restless
Bash and Cleaner exchanged glances, before Bash cleared his throat and beckoned someone at the bar. He indicated the table closest to where Brooks lay on the dirty floor.
The two bikers and three women sitting at the table scrambled out of their chairs, careful to walk around the attorney who still gripped the briefcase.
Bending, Johnnie seized it out of Brooks’s limp hand and sat it in one of the empty chairs. He rested his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. “I need a bucket of ice.”
Bash lifted a brow.
“A bucket of ice,” Johnnie repeated.
Before the order was carried out, Brooks moaned and lifted himself to a sitting position.
“Get the fuck up before I shoot you myself,” Johnnie ordered.
“Oh my god.” Brooks sniffled and staggered to his feet.
The lawyer wasn’t cut out for the likes of Bash. Kendall was. The thought rocketed through Johnnie’s brain, along with immediate regret. Had he handled certain situations better, his wife could’ve been one of the attorneys for the club.
It took so much heartache for Johnnie to realize she’d wanted his attention and devotion and sought it anyway she could. Instead of being the man she needed, he’d tried to turn her into the woman he thought he wanted.
“God. God. God.” Tears pooled in Brooks’s eyes and streamed down his cheeks. He stood, arms clutched around his waist, rocking back and forth. “It wasn’t a dream.”
“Shut the fuck up, Brooks,” Johnnie gritted. Even if things had gone differently, Kendall couldn’t have accompanied him on this mission. He was there to protect her, not endanger her further. “WatchBetter Call Sauland take some fucking notes.”
The bikers and their women laughed.
Bash sucked his teeth and pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
Immediately, Brooks sat.
Once Johnnie took a seat, Cleaner stood guard in front of their table, though the place was still eerily quiet. With so many present, there should’ve been some noise.
A naked girl with flaming red hair on her head and her pussy, a small waist, and melon-sized tits brought an opened bottle of whiskey, two glasses, and a small bucket of beer. She was so fucking young, Johnnie felt sick. He doubted she’d reached her eighteenth birthday, yet.
She had the look and build of Kendall. In turn, it reminded him of his precious Matilda. By sleight of hand, she could’ve been in this girl’s position.
Smiling at Johnnie, she sat the items on the table.
“Gabby, this is Johnnie, one of my brothers.”
Gabby sidled closer. If he turned, her breasts would shove against his face.
“I’m not interested in your whore or your alcohol, motherfucker,” Johnnie growled. “It’s telling that you bring an open bottle to us while you chose beer for yourself.”
“She’s our best slut,” Cleaner threw over his shoulder. “You insult us by turning down the pussy she’s offering.”
“You insult me by offering pussy,” Johnnie retorted.
Bash grabbed the bottle of whiskey, poured a measure in both glasses, then downed the contents in each. “Satisfied?” he asked, holding the bottle out to Johnnie. “I’m not a novice. My attempt to poison you wouldn’t be so obvious.”
Johnnie accepted the bottle and poured whiskey for himself and Brooks. All the while, Gabby remained at his side. With each move he made, he brushed against her.
“Go away, Gabby,” he ordered.
“No, she’s here to do a job,” Bash said calmly. He took a beer from the bucket, opened it, and drank. “If she doesn’t perform, she’s no longer needed.”
Not liking the implication, Johnnie narrowed his eyes.
“What if we pay you her going rate?” Brooks asked, misunderstanding what the asshole meant. “You’ll still have made the money you expected from us, and she’ll have her job.”
