Page 9 of Heartbeats & Highways

Her eyes widened. “Definitely not. Steer clear of bikers like the plague.”

“I plan to.”

The crowd was unusually rowdy. The first fight of the night started late, giving people more time to drink. Beer and annoyance flowed in equal measure.

I’d already made three trips back to the bar with an empty tray. Unfortunately, I had to wait because Roxy and Daisy were four people deep.

Frustration poured through me.

I’d been part time job hunting all day before I’d even shown up. Baristas and boutique associates were paid next to nothing and then managers had the audacity to sneer at me when I told them I didn’t have any experience. Not to mention, they wanted to see my ID. Working under the table afforded me anonymity. No one asked questions.

“Sorry, sugar,” Daisy said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “Let me pour you some pints.”

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile.

She quickly filled the plastic cups and set them on my tray. I swept away from the bar and dove into the swarm of people.

Sweaty bodies brushed against me; there was no hope of dodging them. My tray of beers went quickly. I had one drink left when someone bumped into me, careening me into a tall, meaty man. The last pint of beer on the tray tipped over awkwardly, dousing both of us in ice cold liquid.

“What the fuck!” He spun toward me, his cheeks flushed with anger and booze. “You stupid bitch!”

“I’m sorry,” I babbled. “It’s tight in here and someone?—”

“I don’t fucking care!” He reached out and grabbed my wrist, squeezing it in his strong grip.

A cry of pain spilled from my lips.

“I know how you can make it up to me.” He tugged me closer. “Fuck the fight. I’d rather party with you. Let’s get out of here.”

Bile swirled in my stomach, and I was in danger of throwing up. I covered my mouth just as I saw a fist collide with the man’s jaw.

He instantly released me and put up his hands to defend himself.

I tried to step back to get away from the violence, but there was nowhere to turn. A throng of on-lookers were watching the makeshift fight while they waited for the real one to commence.

“You don’t treat women like they’re whores, and youneverfucking touch them!”

I froze in my spot; I recognized that voice.

Savage punched the man again, knocking several teeth out this time, but that didn’t stop Savage. In fact, it seemed to invigorate him. He pummeled the man until he fell to the ground, and when he put his hands in front of his face to block Savage’s blows, Savage just punched right through his hands, battering him until he went limp.

The scent of blood filled the air, which only made my nausea worse.

Savage put a heavy leather boot to the man’s throat and pressed.

“Savage!” I yelled.

It seemed to take all of Savage’s force to turn and look at me, but he finally did. His blue eyes were bright, almost maniacal.

“Savage,” I said again, this time a little softer.

The man on the ground gurgled as Savage refused to move his boot. I was sure Savage was about to crush his windpipe, but suddenly he lifted his foot.

“Get the fuck out of here, and don’t ever come back. If I see you again, you’ll be begging for treatment like this. This wasn’t even a goddamned warm-up for me.”

The man’s friends helped him off the ground.

“What the fuck is going on?” Stu, the floor manager for the evening, elbowed his way through the crowd until he was at the center of the commotion.

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