Page 13 of Iron Hearts

“Stay behind the bar with me. Let Grayson barback if he’s not going to work any kind ofactualsecurity,” Gemma said dispassionately.

“We’ll give it a round or two, and then I’ll go out,” I called back. “I’m not letting anyone scare me from doing my job!”

“Oh, myGod! Rarity! Justwhoare you trying to prove yourself to?” Gemma exclaimed, exasperated.

Myself,I thought grimly. I was trying to prove to myself that I could, and would, do my damn job and that these motherfuckers didn’t scare me.

I didn’t answer Gemma out loud. I just started slinging drinks with as much grim determination as I had about getting my skinny ass out there to gather up any remaining stray empty glasses.

After the pile of bikers had been served their tequila, beer, and Jack and Cokes – or whatever the hell else they were swilling down – I grabbed a bus tub and ducked under the end of the bar to head out into the crowd.

The music blaring from the stage down below was distorted and completely drowned out too quickly by a fresh pack of bikers pulling in. Only instead of a sea of black and orange, these guys wore black and red.

Shit.

I swallowed hard and moved fast. I didnotwant to be out in the crowd when the Royal Bastards MC hit the top of those steps.

This was going to be a shit show.

CHAPTERSEVEN

Striker…

Riding into the Iron Horse, up under the decks and bars on their stilts, and watching the faces on the security guys arguing with the Bloody Scorpions, and the faces of the Bloody Scorpions themselves fall flat – that shit waspriceless.

The plan had been discussed, the game was set, and it was time tomatch.

The thing about the Bloody Scorpions was these motherfuckers were out here playing checkers while the Royal Bastards were out here playing a fucking master class inchess.

The idea was simple as far as plans went. We were here to have a fucking drink. That was all. We pulled up, in our cuts, and sure – we were breaking the rules,but– they broke them first, so fuck it. Right? The rules applied to all of us, or they applied to none of us. The precedent had been set last night when no one got kicked out for sporting colors inside the bar. The slippery slope was slicker than owl shit, and we would have divested if we hadn’t rolled up and seen the Scorpions still sporting their colors proudly without any clapback.

They had theirs, and we’d keep ours, but we’d also keep it PC and play it cool.

We were remaining respectful, throwing little verbal barbs, sure, but we weren’t going to be the ones to throw down first. Couldn’t claim self-defense if you threw the first punch.

That wasn’t in the cards. That wasn’t how things worked.

We rolled up, heeled down our stands, and parked, effectively blocking these losers in. We smiled and nodded politely and took our asses upstairs to have a drink.

We stuck together for the most part, and as we hit the top steps, I spotted her.

She was short, butstacked, her tee fitted and showing off the girls with the deep V of the neckline. Her blonde hair rode in a high ponytail, the beachy waves swinging back and forth as she passed by. She had an ass to match those tits of hers.

What didn’t match was the deep shadow of blue, rotting into purple, surrounding her right eye.

She must’ve been the waitress or bartender who’d been knocked out the night before. I appreciated the pair of brass ovaries she was sporting to be back at it so soon and vowed to get her name.

“Rarity!” the brunette behind the bar called out, and the blonde quickly turned her head.

Well, that was easy,I thought to myself.

Rarity, the barmaid with the black eye, jogged back over to the central bar up here and passed the tub of glassware across it to the brunette before ducking up under the end of the bar and taking up post behind it.

I bellied up to it on her end and smiled at her, turning on what little charm I had.

“Hi!” I called across to her.

“What’ll you have?” she asked, almostdemanded, all while looking bored.

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