9. Tempe

9

Tempe

“What’s your favorite, good-looking?” The blond frat boy across the bar grins at me, thinking he’s original.

They always do.

The pickup lines, the pretending to care about my favorite drink, the what time do you get off tonight questions. None of them seem to take the hint.

I’m not looking for a one-night stand, much less a boyfriend.

Forcing a smile, I ignore the fact that this guy’s pearly whites make me want to punch him in the face. “I don’t know. Guinness, I suppose.”

It’s not, even if I don’t mind it.

But if I had to guess, Frat Boy is a Bud Light or Corona drinker. Something light enough for him to handle while still feeling tough because he’s holding a beer.

“I’ll take a Guinness.” He grins.

Of course he will .

As expected, he’ll order my “favorite” to try and impress me. Which is as satisfying as his sour face when he takes the first bitter sip. Just as I thought, he wouldn’t know real alcohol if it was sitting right in front of him.

“Something wrong?” I wipe down the bar with a wet rag.

He shakes his head. “Nah. All good.”

I bite back a smile and walk away.

Dirty Drakes pulls in the worst of the locals, but at least messing with them makes for good entertainment.

“Hey, Tempe, you headed to the back?” Marley asks.

“Yeah, what can I get you?”

She holds up a wad of soaked napkins. “Towels? The tap’s leaking again.”

I look at the puddle of stout on the floor and sigh. “Sure thing.”

Walking into the back, I grab my hair tie out of my pocket and pull back the waves falling in my face. I’m only an hour into my shift, and I have the feeling it’s going to be a long night.

I glance up at the clock, and it’s Austin’s bedtime, so I hope he isn’t giving Pearl any trouble. He always fought Mom on going to bed, and since he doesn’t know Pearl well, I’m not sure how that’s going to go.

At least he seemed happy to stay with her for the night so I could make it to work. Like Jameson, he instantly trusted her. He helped her cook pancakes and then asked her a hundred questions about her knitting room.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with him once we leave here, but I need to find someone I can trust to watch him while I’m at work. At least my classes are online, so I can do those at night when he’s sleeping.

This newfound responsibility is heavy inside me. I’m twenty-two, and my entire life just turned upside down.

So long as I can pull my brother through this, I’ll keep it together for both of us.

He hasn’t cried since this morning, and part of me is waiting for the floodgates to open. For the shock to wear off and for him to realize I’m all he has left.

Am I enough?

Can I be?

I’m better for him than my mother was for either of us, but that doesn’t mean I’m prepared for this.

I catch sight of myself in a mirror that hangs in the back room, and there are dark circles around my eyes. I’m wearing zero makeup, and I had to borrow one of Marley’s uniforms since I don’t have any clothes at Jameson’s house. My outfit is skintight because she doesn’t like her Dirty Drakes T-shirt baggy like I do.

Next time I see Jameson, I need to convince him to let me get some of my things from my house. Austin hates sleeping without his Super Bear, and I’m in desperate need of clothes.

Grabbing a stack of towels and napkins, I head back out front and catch sight of the two prospects sitting in the corner of the bar.

Sonny is the opposite of his name, hanging like a dark storm cloud over the room, just like when he was standing outside Jameson’s door at the clubhouse guarding it. I’ve yet to see him smile, and he watches everything around him, looking prepared to strike the moment something happens.

Reyes is the opposite, grinning and laughing at something one of the waitresses just said to him. He’s friendly, but a little too much so. I don’t like how his eyes skimmed my bare legs in my uniform or how he’s watching the waitress’s ass as she walks away.

I remind myself that Jameson trusts him—both of them. I have no choice but to do the same, whether I want them here or not.

Circling behind the bar, I meet Marley with the stack of towels and cover the spill on the floor, helping her clean it up.

A few new customers make their way inside, and I catch Sonny discreetly taking a picture of them. He’s been doing that all night. Keeping a lookout and reporting to Jameson.

“That guy’s giving me the creeps,” Marley leans close and whispers, her gaze following mine to Sonny across the room. “Want me to have security kick ’em out? He’s been watching you all night.”

“It’s fine. He’s a…” I chew the inside of my cheek, deciding what sounds the least suspicious. “Friend.”

Her eyebrows pinch. “Since when are you friends with bikers?”

Marley’s worked at Dirty Drakes longer than I have, and she knows I avoid anyone in a cut.

“He’s a family friend.” I wipe the counter, trying to avoid her gaze so she can’t see I’m lying .

“Whatever you say.” Marley pulls her red hair back and starts stacking clean glasses.

“Hey, how was that date the other night?” I change the subject. “It was with that tall guy who was built like a football player, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, and it was so good.” She grins. “He scored all night long. If you know what I mean.”

I shake my head and laugh.

Marley’s dating life is so much more interesting than mine. I’m not a virgin, but I rarely date. There’s no time. And now with Austin, there will be even less.

A phone ringing on the other side of the bar catches my attention, and I look up to see Sonny lifting his to his ear. It must suck being a prospect, sitting here all night drinking water, watching out for some girl just because their president told them to.

But I guess they signed up for it.

A group of out-of-towners walks in, and Marley and I get back to pouring drinks. It’s always easy to separate the locals from those passing through because out-of-towners aren’t here long enough to see past the bright lights and ringing slot machines.

“What can I get you?” I place two napkins in front of a couple wearing matching light-up cowboy hats.

“Your darkest stout and a vodka cranberry.”

“You got it.” I mix her drink first, then grab a beer glass, but when I pull the handle, foam comes out. “Shit, the keg’s empty.”

“Want me to take care of it?” Marley asks .

I shake my head when I see her serving a group that just walked in. “I’ve got it.”

I wave at my customers for them to give me a second and head into the back room. The wall that backs to the bar is lined with kegs, and I head toward the one that needs to be swapped. But the moment I reach it, I hear the door open again.

“Marley, I told you I had it.”

There’s no response as a body presses close behind me, and I spin around. A man I don’t recognize has me cornered. His dark hair is shaved down to his scalp, and his beady eyes make the hair on the back of my head stand on its ends.

“You’ve been a bad girl.” He grabs me by the throat and slams my back against the nearest wall.

I scratch at his wrists, but it just makes him grip on tighter.

“Think you’re brave with your bodyguards out front, do you?” the man asks, pressing close.

“Who are you?”

He tightens his grip on my throat, and his eyes narrow. “Who do you think?”

“You work for him?” I choke out. “The man from last night.”

“No, he’s like me. Just someone getting the job done for our boss.” He ticks his head to the side. “Where’s the package?”

“I don’t know.” My nails dig into his wrist, but he refuses to release me. “They have it.”

“The Twisted Kings? ”

I try to nod but can’t with how he’s choking me.

“I’m here to deliver a message. Bring us the package, and we’ll let you live.”

“I—” His fingers grip tighter. “I can’t.”

The man’s teeth clench, and he’s holding me so tight my vision is getting darker. Spots form in the corners of my periphery, and all I see is the man’s eyes gleaming with fascination as he chokes me.

His nails dig into my neck, breaking skin, just as a loud bang rings out across the room.

One second, I’m pinned to the wall, and the next, the man’s being pulled off me.

I reach for my throat as I choke for air, collapsing with a deep inhale. Light spots the corners of my vision as I find my breath, and for a moment, I think I’m imagining Jameson in front of me.

Not Jameson… Steel.

He pops his knuckles, and he’s not the man who put my brother and me in his house to keep us safe. He’s the embodiment of the president of the most feared motorcycle club on the West Coast.

Jameson’s fist connects with the side of the man’s face, and bone cracks. Light leaves his eyes as his body crumples to the ground like dead weight.

One hit and Jameson knocked him out cold.

He rubs the back of his knuckles with his other hand, turning back to me.

“You okay?” He tips my chin up so I’m forced to meet his gaze.

“I—” I’m still processing what just happened. “ I’m fine.”

He releases my face, and I look down to see his knuckles are bleeding. He hit that man so hard, it broke his skin open.

“Are you okay?” Before I think about it, I reach out and grab Jameson’s hand to examine the cut. “You need antiseptic and a bandage.”

Jameson chuckles, and when I look up into his eyes, there’s amusement in them. I’ve seen a few sides to this man in the past day, but friendly isn’t one of them, so it’s disarming.

“I’ve been hurt worse.” He pulls his hand from my grasp.

“Doesn’t mean you should ignore it.” I narrow my eyes, circling around him to the first aid kit hanging on the back wall. “Just because it isn’t a bullet wound doesn’t mean it can’t get infected.”

I pull out an antiseptic wipe and a Band-Aid.

“Hearts?” he asks, spotting the cartoon hearts on the Band-Aid.

I shrug. “Marley thought it was funny. Nothing lightens the mood from a bar fight like a Band-Aid with hearts on it.”

Jameson watches me wipe the cut on the back of his hand with the antiseptic wipe. “You clean up lots of guys after bar fights?”

“No.” I glance up at him. “You’re an exception.”

“Is that so?” He smirks.

I nod. “That’s so. Can’t trust you to do it yourself, tough guy. Besides, it’s the least I can do to thank you. ”

My gaze moves to the body on the ground, and Jameson’s fingers wrap around my hand. The other one rests over where I’m still wiping the back of his knuckles.

“Are you okay, Tempe? Really?”

“I’m fine. Just a little out of breath.” I force a smile, and he luckily accepts it.

Stepping back, I’m still a little hazy, but I distract myself with the Band-Aid, picking at the corner to unwrap it.

Jameson chuckles. “No thanks on the Band-Aid, wildfire.”

“But hearts…” I tease, and he shakes his head.

I don’t argue because there’s no point. I tried, and at least he let me clean his cut.

Jameson reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, while I make my way over to the trash to throw away the antiseptic wipe.

“Havoc, I need you to bring the van to Dirty Drakes and pick up a package… No, the other kind of package… Yeah… Sonny’s gonna keep an eye on it. I’m heading back now.”

He hangs up as the back door swings open, and Sonny and Reyes walk in.

“Where were you?” Jameson snaps at them.

“Sorry, Pres—”

“Stay here until Havoc arrives.” He cuts them off, and his tone is pure ice.

Jameson turns his back on the prospects, focusing his attention on me.

“What are you going to do with him?” I ask, glancing down at the unconscious man .

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Jameson puts his phone away. “Let’s go; your shift is over.”

“No, it’s not.”

He steps toward me, tipping my chin up. “Yes, it is. Tell your boss you’re feeling sick. Or whatever excuse they’ll believe. We tried this your way, but we’re doing it my way now.”

He nods toward the body on the floor, and I swallow hard when I realize this isn’t him being overbearing; he’s trying to keep me safe. For whatever reason, Jameson is looking out for me. And somehow, I trust him to do it.