Page 2 of Colt

Boots shuffled across the beer-swilled floor. Hushed conversation faded to silence as the main doors opened, and the patrons spilled out into the warm night air.

I took in the scary-looking fuckers before me.

All three were tall, though only Dog was built in a way that concerned me. Undoubtedly, they could all look after themselves, but when it came to brute strength and fighting talent, they had nothing on me. Though admittedly, three against one were shitty odds.

Thrash shot his brothers a furtive look before his eyes rested on me again. “I dunno whether you’re brave or just plain fuckin’ stupid, comin’ into my turf and talkin’ smack about my boy.”

“You know what he is, Thrash,” I bandied back. “He’s gotta screw loose. Bear walks around believin’ he’s untouchable. You need to get him in hand before he goes too far.”

Thrash’s face twisted into a snarl. “Are you fuckin’ crazy? The Sinners rule the southern counties. Your goddamned club gave up your diamond, we didn’t. We’re fuckin’ outlaws. What do you expect?”

“Your son’s a fucking pedophile!” I bellowed. “He came into my town, breaking our deal, and touched an underage girl against her fuckin’ will. That shit don’t stand.”

“What the fuck you gonna do about it?” Thrash taunted, holding an arm out each side. “Seems to me you came to a gunfight packin’ a knife. Three of us, one of you. I reckon we could shut that lyin’ mouth of yours up permanently.”

“Ain’t lyin,” I challenged. “You know what Bear is; if you don’t stop him, he’ll only get worse.”

Thrash took a step closer. “He’s my son. And I ain’t lettin’ the likes of you run around bad-mouthing him. You’re sore because we’ve taken all the Demons’ business over. What’s up, Dagger, missin’ the life? Tryin’ to get your deals back? Is this your way of makin’ it so organizations won’t deal with us?”

“We passed the illegal shit over to you on the condition you kept it away from Hambleton,” I reiterated. “Seems you’re the one breaking our deal by lettin’ your pervert son’s ass into our territory.”

“Fuck you,” he spat. “You’ve gone too far this time. Can’t believe you came solo. If you think I’m letting you walk out of here, you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

Pulling my shoulders back, I clenched and unclenched my fists. “Keep your fuckin’ boy away from that girl, or I’ll put a bullet between his eyes. The Speed Demons don’t like dirty perverts in our town.”

Dog grabbed a beer bottle from the table next to him and smashed it against the wood, leaving the end a broken, jagged edge. Eyes narrowed he pointed it toward me. “I’m gonna rip you a new asshole.”

“Bring it on, motherfucker,” I spat.

“You gonna take us on solo?” Dog casts a glance around the room. “One against three? Seems like a doozy to me.”

I felt a smirk take over my expression. “If three of you knew a lick of what you were doin’, I’d worry. Instead, I find all my fucks flyin’ away.”

The scrape of a chair sounded from the direction of the bar.

All eyes slashed toward the scruffy length of wood to see the guy I noticed earlier rounding it. “I’ve been listening to your convo, and I find myself not taking too kindly to grown men hurting little girls.” His gaze swung to mine. “Got your back, friend.”

I jerked a nod of gratitude. As he strode toward me, I caught a glint of metal at his throat as the light bounced off his dog tags. Immediately, I felt a sense of kinship toward him. Myself, hell, most of my club were ex-military. He was one of mine. “You can walk away. Nobody would think less of you. I appreciate ya, but it’s not your fight.”

He drew up next to me, eying the three Sinners sizing him up. “Ain’t leaving.”

It took everything in me to keep the smile off my face. I moved closer to the kid’s side. A whir came from the jukebox as a record fell. The needle bounced onto it with a thump before the bars of ‘Rock the Casbah’thudded through the speakers.

I grinned, wriggling my fingers in a beckoning motion. “Come to fuckin’ Daddy.”

The Sinners moved surprisingly fast. Thrash circled around me, blocking my six and picking up a stool. With a roar, he swung it at me.

Ducking, I managed to narrowly avoid having my head taken off, before turning, yanking it from his hands, and swinging it back at his head. With a resonating thud, it glanced off the side of his face. Thrash let out a yowl as the metal leg sliced a wide gash across his cheek, sending him careening into the bar.

“You’re done,” I growled, raising the stool again to crack the back of his skull.

“Watch your back,” the kid yelled.

A sharp pain slashed across my shoulder. I dropped the stool and brought a hand to the sleeve of my tee to find blood trickling down my arm.

“Fuck,” I snapped, rounding on Dog, who was still holding the broken bottle. I focused my mind on blocking out the dull ache radiating from my shoulder.

A split second was all it took to be caught off guard again as Dog grabbed for me. I went to jerk my head back to catch his face, but I hit air. I turned to see my new friend almost throwing him across the room.

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