Page 66 of StoryTeller's Tale

Strider indicates I should place her on a seen-better-days couch, then cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Jasmine?” When a sweet butt’s head pops up from behind the bar, he continues, “Grab a bottle of water and look after her, will you?” He gestures to Sheri in case there was any doubt what he meant. When Jasmine approaches, he bends his head to hers, and presumably offers further instruction.

I crouch down by her side, but Strider puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it almost painfully. “My girl will take care of her. You’re coming to church.”

One look toward him shows he won’t be budged. With a grimace and silent apology to Sheri, who looks like she’s starting to stir, I shoot a warning glare toward the woman called to watch over her.

In return, Jasmine gives me a pleasant enough smile and says, “I’ll take care of her. You go do your man thing.”

Reluctantly, I follow the other men who are walking after Strider.

There are a few spaces around the table, understandable as this meeting was called out of the blue, but the main ones are there. Strider, obviously, sits at the head of the table, Shotgun to his left and Buzz to his right. Tequila, the enforcer, is next to him. Shout gestures for me to take a place at his side, and another man, Mex, whose name needs no explanation, also introduces himself.

The rest assume I’ve already met them, so I just offer a chin lift in return to theirs. If I need to know their names, I’ll look at their cuts.

The door closes after the last man enters, and this is someone who Strider greets by name.

“Data. What you got for us?”

As he’s carrying a laptop, I assume Data’s their go-to tech guy, but then his name probably gives it away.

Data sits, then looks around seriously, finally settling on me. “We’ve got the approaches lined with cameras just for situations like these, like where we need to know who’s gunning for us.” Seems fair, so I raise my chin once more. He continues without needing prompting. “Got a good shot of the driver and passenger—he was the one doing the shooting.” He opens his laptop and turns it my way.

The man holding the gun is definitely Knuckles. My hands fist as I realise just how close I’d come to losing Sheri.If she hadn’t been wearing that backpack…My stomach rolls once more, and I look for the nearest bin in case it decides to rebel. For once in my life, sitting around the table has become a chore. I want to be out with my woman, checking on her.

“That’s Knuckles,” I confirm. Data rolls his eyes, showing my comment was totally unnecessary. I wouldn’t have been in Austin if someone from this club hadn’t recognised him.

“How the fuck did he find us?”

Strider snorts. “Fucker may be crazy but he’s not stupid. He wasn’t after your woman but after you, ST. All he needed to do was get himself noticed for you to come into town, then sit back and wait for you to come to him.”

Buzz throws me a look of disdain. “He’s probably been hanging around, waiting for you to bring her to us. And, ST, that red mane of hers sticks out like a fuckin’ sore thumb. You didn’t think to disguise her?”

Sounds like I’ve done a whole lot of no thinking at all. Shooting my chair back, I stand, walk to the wall, and beat my fist against it. Trying to kick my brain into gear after realising my carelessness came too fucking close to getting her killed, I reach for any answer I can come up with.

“If he didn’t see my patch, I can take her back to Arizona. Just need to get her to the airport.”

“And if he did?” Strider barks. “You’ve been flying under the radar as he thought you were nomad. If he saw your rocker, then you’re taking a heap of trouble back to your club.”

And Chaz is really gonna appreciate that. He’s already told me he won’t get into a war to take out one Dominator.

Shotgun takes out a packet of cigarettes. It’s a signal for many to copy him and light up. I do the same even though I’ve had thoughts about giving up.Because of the baby.Right now, though, a nicotine hit might make me think clearer.

Strider’s been watching with his head resting on his chin. He waves to indicate I should return to my seat at the table. When I do so, he suddenly grins. “Seems like Knuckles might have the idea you’re stupid, Brother. He might be on to something.”

My eyes narrow and I glare at the Austin prez. My mouth opens to deny that I’m how he describes when I realise it was my rash and senseless actions that had put Sheri in the position of getting hurt.If we’d taken her car, she’d have been better protected.But, oh no, I’d wanted her behind me on the bike, even though it wasn’t the best suited to break in a new passenger.

She’s gonna hate me. Will she ever forgive me?

A loud rapping gets me looking toward Strider again. “You back with us, ST?” His mouth quirks. At my nod, he continues, “Yeah, so Knuckles probably expects anything from you right now. So he wouldn’t be surprised if you take your woman back out on your bike—”

“Not going to fuckin’ do that,” I growl, thumping my fist on the table in emphasis. “I almost lost her today. And she’s fuckin’ pregnant. Ain’t going to be risking her.”

“Pregnant?” Strider exclaims. He leans back in his chair, and chortles. “Oh, this is fuckin’ good, Brother.”

If there’s ever a time I wanted to be able to reclaim words I’ve just spoken, it’s now. “She, I, only just found out. Nothing’s yet been decided.” I shrug as if contradicting that her status is anything important.

Tequila speaks, his voice deep and growly. “Seems like our Arizona brother has doubts about us.” He meets my eye, and his hand slaps the table so loudly it makes me jump. “Seems he’s jumping to conclusions without hearing us out.”

Strider’s nodding in confirmation. “Think Knuckles might have the way of it. He’s a few cents short of the dollar.”

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