Page 4 of Flint

All I know is I would give about a million bucks to anyone who said they would carry me, or maybe just give me some cotton candy and a Diet Coke. I’ve got a strange craving for both.

As we get closer, my limp is definitely noticeable now, but no one says anything. And I’m in a weird position of not knowing how badass I’m supposed to be or how much of a wimp I am, so I keep my mouth shut. I also have a huge disadvantage if these guys are crazy bad and want to shoot me. I get the feeling they aren’t bad, but they do have guns, and I obviously don’t. Maybe I know kung fu? Doubtful, as I trip over another rock. I even saw it, still tripped. Doesn’t necessarily scream grace like a ninja, now does it?

The place we’re going is a little intimidating. It’s obviously two stories and hella large, as it seems to double in size the closer we get. But I also notice a few picnic tables and even a swing set a bit away. Guys with swings can’t be that bad.

Of course, I’m sure half the serial killers of the world grew up on swings.

Positive thoughts, woman. Positive thoughts only.

The most decent thing these guys do is hold the door open for me as I hobble inside and try to take it all in while following Captain Jackass. I think the name suits him very well.

He isn’t slowing down as we come to a large area filled with pool tables, couches, and even a bar along one of the walls. No one’s around, which makes this a bit creepier than I first thought. I was hoping more witnesses would mean not getting killed. Fewer witnesses or anyone to call out to for help is definitely not in my favor.

I keep my eyes wandering the area and stop short when I see Captain Jackass has also stopped. In front of stairs. Of fucking course. And the smirk he’s sporting as he looks at me has me glaring as I take a deep breath and plunge forward. Okay, so I hop up each step with a firm grasp on the rail, but I have dignity, and I ain’t going to make a sound. Even if I have to bite my lip off to keep the noises at bay.

The deep chuckle behind me rattles through my bones more than the pain in my shoulder with each landing. When I get to the top, I take a few extra seconds. I’m liable to pass out right about now. Apparently I’m not in shape, or maybe just hopping up a million stairs on one foot takes it out of every person.

“About done?” he comments as he quickly passes me.

I’m still holding on to the top rail as I attempt to breathe normally. I know he’s laughing at me, and I have half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself, but I see we ain’t alone like I thought we were. This area has a few doors and two hallways that split at the stairs like a T, but it’s the mini waiting room at the top that has me closing my trap up tight. Not ’cause there is one, but because there are about six other guys, not including the four who came with me, hanging around. Everyone seems casual, but the way they all just stare at me, not even pretending to look elsewhere, tells me this isn’t a place for a Sunday brunch.

Do these guys even know what brunch is? I sure as hell do, and it sounds amazing. Damn, I would kill for some Belgian waffles and Cool Whip right about now. I wonder if I get like a last meal request or something.

Dammit, lady, think positive. What did we just go over? Positive thoughts. Last meals and shit ain’t positive. Even if it sounds positively amazing.

I follow Captain Jackass again but stop dead in my tracks at the first bellow.

“I fucking told you I would take care of that shit. Don’t you for one fucking second think I won’t skin your hide, girl.”

I look to the group, not really sure what else to do. They’re all big bikers, more hair and muscles in this one area than I’m sure I’ve seen in my life. I bet I would remember that. And the fact that each one isn’t doing shit says this isn’t the first time they’ve heard this from whoever is behind the cracked door in front of me.

“No you fucking won’t. Kooper! Get your ass in here.”

“Fuck.” One of the bigger of the group—if that’s even fucking possible since they’re all huge—stumbles forward, and I just hop back a bit. He looks pissed with the sneer on his face, and if he’s pissed about going in there, I can only guess what the other guy must be like.

“Close the fucking door,” the man inside orders.

As the door slams shut, I look for a seat. Pretty sure we’re going to be here for a bit, and I’m done playing like I’m the queen of pain.

I spot one in the corner and start toward it as the stairs creak behind me. I turn my gaze toward yet another biker. Unlike the rest of the group, this one is smiling as he practically skips up the steps and rolls into the seat I was about to claim. He smiles brightly at me as he shakes his overgrown hair away from his face.

“Need something, sugar?”

“Ahh.” I chance a look at the one who I can’t seem to stop looking to for direction. All he does is quirk one of those perfectly manicured eyebrows at me. Wonder if he gets them waxed or if he’s more into the plucking game.

I shake my head as the door that was closed a minute ago is thrown open and the Kooper guy walks out—more like storms, and I’m pretty sure I see fire on his heels. Either he’s getting the hell out of Dodge or he’s on a mission.

“Ten to one it’s Ruby.” The long-haired guy chuckles, and the one who checked me for a gun nods next to him.

The other one who was part of my welcome party with the neck tattoos shrugs his own assessment. “Double or nothing he comes back empty-handed.”

“Done,” Captain Jackass chimes in from his leaning post against the opposite wall.

For the first time, I notice the cuts have more than just a freaking three-headed dog with a scythe for a chew toy. They’ve also got names on them. I think I might prefer “Captain Jackass” to “Flint.”

Not really sure how the long-haired guy got “Bass” or how a bunch of tats make a “Jumper,” but I think my fear of the unknown has finally caught up to me, and I decide not to ask. For now.

“Next!” The same voice that boomed at Kooper has the walls shaking. It’s the kind of voice that rattles the hollow parts inside you and makes you want to shrink away. It’s definitely not a welcoming call, and if he’s pissed at this Ruby, I doubt seeing me, based on the warm welcome I’ve already received, is going to help his mood.

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