Page 29 of Flint

The winner turns to look at the woman behind him. It’s enough for me to catch my first glimpse of my suede rescuer. And “damn” is all I got to say.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” She shakes her long, braided black-and-pink locks as she looks at both of them like they’re stupid. And I think the snarly guy kind of is. Not only because he can’t count, but it’s obvious this isn’t a typical bitch. We are talking badass, take-no-names biker chick.

I might be in love.

“Not liking your tone, bitch.”

“Yeah, and for a fucking prospect, you’re mouthy. Take the advice and walk away. You won’t last long if you keep opening that trap.”

He looks her over once more, just like me and the other guy. She’s got on awesome thigh-high boots over black leather pants, and her corset has hearts all over it. If the Queen of Hearts were a biker chick and like a size four, she would be screaming to have their heads removed right about now.

Hey, I know Alice in Wonderland. I love how this memory thing is going. I get these little things that just pop in and make me all warm and tingly on the inside. Not often, so I don’t get that tingle much. Unless a certain biker is barking at me. That causes a few tingles. Mostly in a lower area than the happy ones that might get my memory back. Of course, knowing I like burgers, Diet Coke, chocolate, and Alice doesn’t necessarily make me Memory Girl of the Year.

“Listen, cunt, I—”

That’s all he gets to say before she coldcocks him. My mouth drops open as I look at her, then to the guy on the ground, and back at her before registering that the other guy is still standing close to me.

“Why you—” And as he comes at her, she does the same thing to him too.

I look around. A few of the others glance over and then return to their conversation.

What the fuck just happened?

“Scoot over, tits,” she says. “I love these shoes, but they still need a bit more doing dishes in them, if you know what I mean.”

I nod as I scoot. But only like an inch over ’cause I’m still not processing everything so well. Then I shake my head. “Wait, what? Dishes?”

“Yeah, you know. Do the housework while breaking in new shoes so you don’t look like an idiot the first time you wear them out in public. I don’t usually say shit when my feet are killing me, but bitches got to stick together and all. Especially since you owe me, so a seat at the table is the least you can give up.”

“Owe you?” My eyes bug out of my head again. “I don’t even know you. Wait, do I?”

“You owe me for those two. I’ll take it in the form of you telling me who the fuck you are and why you’re sitting at a reserved table. We don’t take strays in, honey, and as you just saw, only vamps are welcome here. So spit out what you want and then hit the road. Not one of these boys here is looking at the long game, sweets, and if you’re knocked up, sorry, but you’re on your own.” She looks me over, then at my drawings, raising an eyebrow at them before looking back at me.

“I didn’t know this was a reserved table. Flint just sat me here. And none of them do long-term? Then what about Bulldog’s girl? Is she just a vamp? And does this top really make me look pregnant?” I look down at my shirt but see nothing but comfort. But isn’t that what pregnant girls want? Comfy shit? Maybe a tube top would have been better. I wouldn’t have had to get it over my shoulder, at least.

“Dammit, Ruby, what the hell did you do?” One of the scary guys who I kind of remember from the first night comes barging over. And I do mean barging. Anyone in his way is pushed and shoved out of it. The others sort of run. I start to slide out, but the girl—Ruby, apparently—grabs my thigh and squeezes. Hard.

“Nah-ah, you ain’t leaving. And you,” she says to the scary guy, “stop your barking. I didn’t do anything that wasn’t needed.” Her tone comes off all sweet-like, but it’s her eyes that dare both me and the guy to challenge her.

“And how the hell is having two prospects knocked out at your feet needed?”

“Just helping the club.” Her shrug and nonchalance have me jealous as hell that she has this much confidence when getting yelled at by a big guy like this. Then again, she knows how to throw a punch, so maybe it ain’t all talk.

“Helping? Yeah, right. How is this helping?” The big man motions to the two still-unconscious dudes on the ground.

“Showing you they ain’t going to make it.” Her smile is so big I’m surprised her face doesn’t split in two.

“More, Ruby. Give me more details before I really get mad.” He palms his face in agitation, and I see her lips twitch at the action. Girl must love giving this man a headache.

“And you don’t want to see me mad.”

I couldn’t stifle the giggle that leaves my lips even if I tried. Her mock impression is funny. I feel like I’ve heard that before, but no clue where.

He growls a bit—wow, that’s sexy—and Ruby gives a bit more info. “Relax, big guy. Not only can they not count, either of them, but they obviously have weak jaws. A tiny nick and they go down like flies. Find better recruits, Koop, ’cause this bunch is soft.”

He scrubs his face with his hand—hard as fuck, if you ask me. “I don’t have time to deal with this shit. Fucking hell. This is the last straw, Ruby. The last fucking one. Your old man can’t save you from this. You know the rules. You know this will get you kicked out of the club. Prospect or not, you don’t attack a club member.”

“Hey, it wasn’t her fault. She was protecting me.” I have no idea who this girl is, but I’d rather deal with her than this guy.

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