Page 23 of Tater
Heads turned. The place went from rowdy to quiet in three seconds flat.
Four men at the bar. Two at a corner table. One standing by the back hallway that must’ve led to offices or a storage room. They wore neutral clothes—denim, flannel, work boots. No colors on display. But you could see the club in their posture, in their eyes.
One of them smirked when he saw them. Big guy. Black beard, buzz cut, eyes like polished stones. His gaze slid right past Tater and locked on Ren.
“There she is,” he said. “The miracle girl.”
She didn’t flinch. “You got religion since last night?”
He laughed. “We all saw you on the screen, sweetheart. Heard you scream. That was beautiful.”
The dragon snarled. Heat crawled under her skin, hungry.
“Let me out.”
“Not yet,” she told it.
Tater stepped up, just enough to put himself half in front of her without making it look like he was hiding her.
“You boys run out of churches to vandalize?” he asked.
The bearded Hellhound spread his hands, all casual. “We’re just enjoying the local talent. Heard this bar serves anybody with money. Thought maybe they’d make an exception for royalty.”
He dragged out the word royalty like an insult. A couple of the others snickered.
Royal Bastards. Their favorite joke.
Eagle moved up on Ren’s other side. Brick and Mouse fanned out, blocking the door’s line of sight. The bartender backed up slowly, eyes going wide, hands raised.
“We can do this civil,” Tater said. “You pack up, walk out, stay off our roads. We pretend last night was an accident.”
Beard snorted. “You call that an accident? You sent your dragon out for a midnight snack on our boys and now you wanna talk… fuckin’ peace?”
He leaned on the bar, close enough to the nearest guy that he could grab a bottle if he wanted.
“She was alone,” Tater said. “You set a trap. You tried to take something that’s mine. You failed. That’s the only part that matters to me.”
Beard’s gaze slid to me again. He didn’t look at Tater when he said, “You sure about that? ‘Cause from where we’re standing, she was almost ours.”
The dragon pushed against her ribs like a fist. Ren’s palm tingled.
“You got something to say to me,” she said, stepping out from behind Tater, “say it to my face, not over his shoulder.”
“Ren,” Tater warned.
Ren ignored him.
Beard’s smile widened. “That’s what I like about you. You come when called.”
“I didn’t come when you called,” she said. “I came because you shot at me. Slight difference.”
“Semantics,” he said. “Point is, you came alone. You always do that when you’re mad at your man?”
The room cooled a few degrees.
There it was. Inside information. The dragon tasted it like blood.
“He knows too much,”it said.
