Page 7 of Vendetta
“Whatever you have on draft,” he told her.
Nodding, she walked off to grab his drink, curiosity crawling under her skin.There was something about tall, dark, and handsome back there.He just didn’t seem like he was local.He was too quiet, observant.He just seemed like the kind of man who had a story written all over him in scars he didn’t show.And if she was being honest?Whatever that story was, she wanted to hear it.
When she returned with his beer, she caught him giving her the once-over, the hint of a grin playing about his lips.She had a feeling he just might be her next favorite mistake.Setting down a coaster then the beer mug, she smiled.“Can I get you anything else?Some chips or nachos?”
He tilted his head at that.“You have nachos?I think you’re the first waitress that ever offered me that.”
“They might suck,” she said with a laugh.“It’s my first shift here so…”
“Yeah, well let me try ‘em,” he said, eyes still on her.“I’ll give you a review.”
“Deal,” she said.
As she headed back to give her order to the kitchen, she saw a group of bikers walking into the bar.They came in loud, laughing too hard, and walking like they owned the place.From a certain point of view, she guessed they did.The snakes on their patches told her they were Cottonmouths, probably from her uncle’s club.
Well, this should be interesting.
At the kitchen window, a short, pudgy guy with a great smile introduced himself to her as Bart.He explained that he’d been at the bar for a decade, he was practically a manager there.Yeah, right.And if she had any questions to let him know.It was all she could do to get away from him to get back to her table.And the bikers had, of course, found a booth in her section.
And her mystery man?He fucking left.At first, she thought he stiffed her, but she spotted a note on the table laid over cash.
Dylan headed for the bikers.They smelled like road dust, booze, and arrogance.The youngest one was the loud one, probably three drinks deep from wherever they’d been before.Mid-twenties, shaggy dark hair, arms covered in faded ink and cigarette burns.He sprawled in the booth, legs spread wide, arm thrown over the backrest like he was already getting comfortable.Next to him was a beefy biker with gun-metal gray hair and eyes nearly the same color.If he’d been drinking, she couldn’t tell.She assumed he was a higher-up in the club based on his demeanor.
The biker across from him was tall and wiry with a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken at least twice and never reset properly.He scanned the bar like he was looking for a fight, twitchy hands tapping a beat against the table.Next to him in the aisle seat was the biggest of the bunch, built like a semi-truck with his leather vest stretched tight across his chest and deep scowl etched into his face.He had nothing to say.He didn’t even acknowledge she was there.
But the gray-haired biker did, acknowledging her with a toothy grin that made her feel like she needed a shower.
“Well, hello there,” he said, voice oily-smooth.“What’s your name, sweet thing?”
Dylan didn’t flinch.She set her notepad on the table, pen poised and gave him a flat look.“Eli’s niece.”
The table erupted at that, with the other three bikers laughing and the one who spoke to her loving the attention.Then he leaned back, raising his hands in mock surrender.“Didn’t realize royalty was working tonight.”
“You gonna order,” she said calmly, “or should I come back?”
That earned a low chuckle from the younger guy.But the way they looked at her changed.Not with less interest but more caution.
“We’ll order,” the gray-haired biker said.“I’m Trucker.This little shithead next to me is Nate because he’s not cool enough for a biker name.Over there is Grudge.”He pointed to the thin, dirty one.“And Creep.”
Since they were in her uncle’s club, it wasn’t in her best interest to be rude.Now they knew who she was, they’d leave her alone.“Dylan,” she told them.
“Dylan,” Trucker snapped.“We need a bottle of Jack and clean glasses.”
“You’ve got it.”
She’d met her first VIPs.She walked back to the table tall, dark, and handsome abandoned, wondering what happened there.He’d left her a twenty and a note on the back of a paper receipt from somewhere else.
Sorry, I got called back to work.If this isn’t enough, text me.
A phone number was written at the bottom.
Chapter Two
Vendetta
A week was all he needed.Vendetta had the delivery routes down cold, knew which clinics were careless with sign-ins, and which drivers cut corners.He also knew which facilities had back doors that stayed mysteriously propped open during late-night drop-offs.He kept his mouth shut and his head down.He made his deliveries, nodded when he was expected to, and kept his eyes wide open.
But he wasn’t just doing the job.He was using it to shadow the Cottonmouths, to hunt down all their dirty little secrets.And once he’d collected enough, he’d create a plan for how he was going to bring the motherfuckers down.
