Page 7 of Beast
“What do we have here?” one of the Messengers who’d been turned away asked. He was the club’s Sgt. at Arms. Cutter, I believe his name was. Wendy put her hand on his chest, meaning his kutte, her first mistake.
Cutter’s face went from a smirk to pissed off. He grabbed Wendy’s hand and pushed her away.
“What the hell?” Wendy said. “What was that for?”
Cutter shifted his attention to us and moved Wendy to the side. He looked around to see if we were alone. “You’re Beast’s old lady.”
“You should leave,” I said. “You don’t want any of this.”
“What’s going on?” Gigi put her hand on mine. “Who are they?”
The Messengers surrounded us and started eating our food. Cutter pulled up a chair and sat between Gigi and me. A van stopped outside in front of the café, and three Messengers got out.
“A table full of young pussy,” Cutter said, his eyes on mine. He knew better than to lay a hand on me, but Wendy, Carmen, and Gigi were a different story. It was always open season on pussy as far as the Messengers were concerned.
“You don’t want this kind of trouble,” I said. “Pack your boys up and head on out. I won’t even mention it to Beast.”
Cutter smirked and nodded at the other bikers. They stood around the table as if we were all about to be taken away to jail. That wasn’t far from the truth. Local law enforcement wouldn’t stop a fight but would step in afterward to make arrests and clean up the mess.
“You fucking move, and Beast will have to pick up the little pieces I leave behind.” He stood and motioned at the girls. “Pick one and bring her. Leave the teenage pussy behind.” He looked at the young waitress. “Maybe next time.”
The Messengers looked at each other. They knew Cutter was making a mistake. One of the guys grabbed Carmen, one grabbed Wendy, and another grabbed Gigi. I was left alone.
The seven assholes stopped what they were doing when they heard engines roar outside. Beast, Diesel, and four Prospects walked in.
The Messengers let go of the girls and took a step back. I loved seeing the fear on their faces. It made them just a bit smarter, although I knew that didn’t matter. Beast wouldn’t let them walk away.
“Skittles, take your friends outside,” Beast said. His eyes never left Cutter’s. He wouldn’t kill a man, or men, in front of witnesses, but he would invoke some severe damage.
“We were just saying hi.” Cutter stood, outmanned even though he had one extra.
Beast patiently waited for us to leave. He slapped my ass. “Good stuff.”
“Are they going to fight?” Gigi asked. She was like a schoolgirl watching her crush about to protect her honor.
“A quick one,” I said. “Then you can climb on the back of Diesel’s bike and return to the club.”
“Not happening,” Gigi said but trained her eyes on him. If I had to bet the house on it, I would bet she’d sleep with him at least once to satisfy her curiosity. That wasn’t Gigi, but Diesel was hard to resist.
I walked the girls outside, and we stood on the sidewalk, peering through the window for only a few seconds before Marcus had Cutter over his head. We stepped back when Cutter came through the glass. Moments later, the other six Messengers went through the broken windows. I watched Marcus return the stack of money to the café’s owner. Even outlaw bikers sometimes did the right thing.
Marcus opened the shattered door, and the Messengers ran to their bikes. “I want a Prospect with you from now on.” He raised a finger when I started to protest. “From now on until I figure out who’s fucking with the club. Could be the Messengers, but who the fuck knows right now.”
I nodded, knowing better than to talk back or disagree. Marcus wasn’t disrespecting me. He was protecting.
“I’ll stay behind,” Diesel said. He smiled at Gigi, and she turned away and started toward the car. “I think she likes me.”
“I think you’re right,” I said, and we followed. Diesel climbed on his bike and pulled in behind the car. I turned to Wendy in the backseat. “The next time you decide to hit on a biker, make sure you know what’s on the back of his kutte.”
“Kutte?” Wendy asked.
“The leather vest.”
“We should stay the night.” Carmen was checking out Diesel behind us, and I noticed a wave of jealousy cross Gigi’s face. I’d made a safe bet. Women couldn’t control their desires any more than men could. Gigi wanted him badly.
Diesel was right up on the bumper, sunglasses on, jeans tight, his kutte barely holding an upper body full of muscles and ink. He wore a black bandana on his head instead of a helmet. The ink on his arms was brutal, and I was sure it would send Gigi running again if she saw it.
“No fucking way,” Gigi said. “Did you not see the guys who were about to kidnap, rape, and murder us?”
