Page 14 of Driving Whiskey Wild
“You can say that again,” Dixie mumbled, and this time Bullet glared at her.
“I’m not very good at that,” he admitted, “but I can try to be more careful about the way I say things.”
That seemed to soothe a little of the hurt, but he’d damn well try to be more careful.
“Thank you,” she said with more politeness than he deserved. “I think I proved that I can handle myself around bikers.”
Grinding his teeth against a knee-jerk reaction of, Bullshit. You have no fucking clue, he said, “Babe, you proved that you could handle yourself around my type of bikers, in my bar, where they know I’ll pound the life out of them if they wrong anyone in my circle. Bikers are not all the same.”
“But aren’t most of those guys in your gang?” she asked. “They weren’t aggressive with me.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking so sweet he wanted to put her in protective armor and stand sentinel over her, keeping all the ugliness away. The fact that he had spouted off something so hurtful without even a hint that he was saying something wrong did not escape him. He was part of that ugliness, and he knew he’d have to figure shit out or let her go, because causing the pain he’d seen in her eyes again was not an option.
“The Dark Knights is not a gang, Finlay. We’re a motorcycle club, which means we’re a group of people who have an interest in biker culture. We have rides and events that are family friendly, and in our case, help the community. Gangs are completely different beasts. There is a lot of drugs and violence, parties that, trust me, you do not want to know about or be part of the shit that goes down there. The last thing we want is for some gang to ride through town and think they’re welcome in our bar.”
Her expression was taut, her eyes contemplative. “But how can anyone possibly tell the difference? You guys all look the same.”
“But they’re not,” Dixie said.
He’d heard it his whole life. You guys all look the same. Growing up in the club environment, he’d had the same observation and questions when he was young. There were plenty of times when his family was out and his father, who went by the road name Biggs, because of his six-five stature, and whom Bullet took after, would see a rough rider and suddenly send Bullet and his siblings off to the car with their mother, or into a store. Or there would be a knock at the door in the middle of the night and one of the club members would show up, bloody and angry, and his father would take off for hours. He learned about loyalty, and as he got older and stupider, he’d made his own mistakes, causing trouble to come crashing down on his family. Getting into the military was his savior, and his demise. His stomach knotted up with the memories. Those weren’t things Finlay needed to hear about, but she had to understand that bikers’ turf wasn’t something she should fuck with.
“You know the leather vest I wear?” Bullet asked. “The patch on the back represents the Dark Knights. Every club and gang has patches that represent their club and members’ statuses in the club.”
Finlay drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “So…what? You have them all memorized or something?”
“Pretty much,” Dixie said.
“Listen, Finlay,” Bullet said carefully. “I admire you for wanting to do right by our family’s bar, but there are reasons Whiskey’s is the way it is.”
Her lips thinned with displeasure, and he knew he wasn’t going to get off without a clearer explanation.
“Do you know why the bar is on the edge of town? Why Peaceful Harbor isn’t overrun with gangs and all the bullshit that goes on in other towns?”
“I can’t even imagine Peaceful Harbor with gangs.” Finlay’s gaze moved between him and Dixie. “I get it. You don’t want me to change the bar. But I still think it’s a mistake. You’re asking me to make the bar better, but no one will know it is except your current customers.”
“Finlay look at me.” He waited until he had her full attention. “I didn’t want this expansion in the first place, but I understand why everyone else did and why we need to bring in more income and change things up a little. I’m on board with that. But there are things that cannot change. Once you understand the history, you’ll realize I’m not just being a dick.”
She winced. “I hate that word.”
“Yeah, well, you probably hate half my vocabulary, and that’s not going to change either. This is who I am, Finlay. I curse and I protect my family and this town at all costs. Period.”
Her gaze darted to Dixie, who nodded. “It’s the Dark Knights way, and cursing? That’s Bullet’s way. He’s honest, Fin. I don’t think he knows how to be any other way.”
Bullet was warmed by his sister’s words. “There’s never a reason to lie. We were brought up to be straight shooters, and I’m not about to try to pretend I’m something I’m not. I’m a Whiskey, and I’m proud to be a Whiskey. Our great-grandfather founded this bar and the Dark Knights, and he protected this town. Whiskey’s was built on the edge of town because that’s where you stop trouble from coming in. Once bad news comes over the bridge into Peaceful Harbor, it’s got only one way to go—forward—and all sorts of hell can break loose until it finds its way back outta town. If it finds its way out.”
“I know this probably sounds far-fetched to you, Fin,” Dixie said, “but Peaceful Harbor is peaceful because the riffraff has been kept out.”
“Our ancestors, and the Dark Knights brotherhood, spent years claiming this town, defining our territory,” Bullet explained. “And every generation of the Dark Knights since has protected it. And we’ll continue to. If a gang came in and tried to claim this territory, or even tried to operate within it to sell drugs, or whatever, our family—the Dark Knights—would take whatever action was necessary to defend it.”
Finlay looked nervously at Dixie. “Okay, now you’re just scaring me. You make it seem like my quaint hometown could turn into a nightmare at any time.”
Bullet and Dixie exchanged a knowing glance. They knew how real that possibility was. They also knew it would take a hell of a battle for any other group to overtake the Dark Knights.
He took Finlay’s hand in his and said, “You don’t have to worry about that. We’ve got this town. Nobody’s going to mess with us.”
“But…” She looked pleadingly at Dixie. “You said whatever action is necessary. Does that mean you’d fight? You just got done telling me that you were different from a gang.”
“We are,” Dixie insisted. “Nobody goes looking for trouble.”
“But if it comes here, we’ll take whatever measures we need to.”
Fear rose in Finlay’s eyes. “Like fighting? Killing?”
“Do you think I’d ever let any harm come to my family?” Bullet asked.
“No.”
“To Tru’s kids? To Gemma? Crystal? To you, or Penny, or anyone else in this town? Our town? The town my ancestors fought to make great for us?”
Finlay shook her head.
“It scares you, and I get that. I’d rather you didn’t think about it,” he said honestly. “But it doesn’t scare me. This is my reason for being here, to protect.”
“You say it like it’s your calling,” she said anxiously.
He shrugged. “It is.” Just because you get out of the military doesn’t make you any less of a soldier.
Dixie nodded in agreement. “Now do you see why he doesn’t want you going into biker bars?”
“Yes,” she said. “But how can this whole underworld exist without some sort of…? I don’t know. Without anyone knowing?”
Bullet chuckled. “People know. More people than you think. The principal at the high school? He’s family.”
“Mr. Martin? He’s not a Whiskey,” Finlay said.
“Our motorcycle club is family,” Bullet explained.
“That docile man is a member of your motorcycle club?”
Bullet nodded. “The owner of the flower shop, the CFO at Peaceful Harbor Bank, several doctors, the pharmacist at CVS. I could go on and on.”
She lowered herself onto a stool. “Wow. I had no idea.” Her brow furrowed. “So, I could go check out other club bars, right? I’m not a member of your club, and clubs aren’t like gangs, so that would work for research.”
Dixie smiled.
“No wonder you hired her,” Bullet said to Dixie. “She’s as determined as you, only sweeter.”
“I’m sweet.” Dixie smirked. “I just hide it well.”
“I think you’re very sweet,” Finlay said. “Tough, too, but sweet and nice and funny.”
“Thanks.” Dixie made a dramatic show of fluttering her lashes at Bullet.
“Christ. If you’re dead set on going to a biker bar, I’ll take you to the Snake Pit,” Bullet relented. “It’s at the other end of town and owned by two members of the Dark Knights. It’s classier than our joint, but it’ll have to do.”
“Thank you. I think that’ll help.”
