Page 3 of Kings & Chaos

“And Screamin’ Syd’s would be…?”

“Bar with the best burgers in Blackwell Falls,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Right,” I said. “How could I forget?”

“Let’s eat.” He grinned. “Gotta keep you fueled up.”

The innuendo was clear, and I had to say, I didn’t mind a bit. Oscar and Rock had treated me with kid gloves after what had happened at the cabin. We’d done some serious cuddling, but they’d been giving me space to process how close I’d come to death and the fact that the dean had been involved in Emma’s disappearance.

The timing had been good — not that I’d come to any real conclusions about the security tape and what to do about the fact that I’d seen it — but I was only human. Living with three mouth watering guys and not sampling the goods was proving to be impossible, and I didn’t even try to tell myself I had the discipline to continue abstaining.

He removed the weapon from the holster under his jacket and stashed it in the glove compartment.

“No gun?” I asked.

“Not here,” he said, getting out of the car.

The bikers outside Screamin’ Syd’s looked us over on the way in. I recognized the bouncer from the Orpheum — Bear — but the others were a blur of facial hair, tattoos, and leather.

Rock nodded at an older one with a gray beard and deep creases around his eyes. “Mac.”

Now that I was closer, I could see that the patch on his vest readPRESIDENT, which was probably why the other men stood slightly behind him, like backup singers in an oldies rock band.

“Barone,” the older man said. His gaze flickered to me, and I caught interest in his eyes in the moment before he returned his gaze to Rock. “Make sure she knows not to come here alone.”

“She knows,” Rock said.

“Sheis right here,” I said, looking from the man named Mac to Rock. “And pissing contests are boring. Can we eat now?”

The bikers broke out into a round of raucous laughter. Mac looked a little like biker Santa Clause when he was laughing.

“You got a firecracker here,” Mac said, taking a step back. “Handle with care.”

“Handled.” Rock grasped my elbow and guided me through the green door.

“Handled?” I sputtered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just a figure of speech.” He bent down to murmur in my ear. “Although you know I’m happy to handle you any damn time.”

I shouldn’t have bothered trying to be annoyed. I’d been trying to be annoyed with Rocco Barone and Oscar Drago for two months.

It hadn’t worked so far. Not most of the time anyway.

As for Neo,annoyedwas too mild a word for the thorn in my side that was Antonio Alinari.

The light was so dim inside the bar I had to blink a couple of times to let my eyes adjust. The walls were covered in dark paneling that looked like it had come straight out of the 1970s. The only light in the room came from the single window, some bedraggled rattan fixtures over the four pool tables on one side of the room, multicolored Christmas lights strung over the mirror behind the bar, and four TVs mounted near the ceiling around the room.

One of them was playing an old episode of a popular biker show my mom had loved. The other three displayed news and a live feed from the stock exchange.

Interesting.

Considering it was Sunday before noon, it was crowded. Three of the pool tables were being used by bearded guys in vests and jackets, a few of the tables in the center of the room were occupied, and more than half of the stools at the bar were full.

I registered the smell of cooking meat and grilled onions right about the time every person in the room turned to stare.

We clearly didn’t belong here.

“Um… are you sure this is cool?” I asked. “Us being here?”

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