Page 29 of The Pretenders of Copper County
Knuckles, whose chest had puffed up at being called powerful, scowled ferociously. “Hold up. I ain’t ever called Amber stupid. Only an asshole would do that.”
I fought the urge to look back at Reed. “I agree.”
“Yo, you don’t know what you’re talking about, Big Brass. Amber’s a cheater,” another of the bikers spoke up.
“She’s not.” I kept my gaze on Knuckles. “She would never cheat on you, Mr. Knuckles. She loves you, and she deserves better than to watch you canoodlewith another woman. It’s cruel.” I winced guiltily at the woman draped over his shoulder. “No offense to you, of course. I’m sure you’re a lovely person.”
She nodded and straightened.
Grim jumped to his feet and gave me a threatening glower. “Don’t talk shit about Knuckles.” Heshoved my shoulder—not particularly violently, but enough to make me glad I was holding the back of the chair in front of me so I didn’t topple. “Go siddown, kid.”
But I couldn’t. My gaze remained locked on Amber’s one true love. “You might notthinkyou’re being cruel, Mr. Knuckles. I understand that sometimes people say things in anger that they really shouldn’t say. That doesn’t make them a bad person, but they do need to apologize and make amends. For example, my uncle Danny is a very caring person. He sometimes cries at Bruce Springsteen songs. But when my cousin Nicky got suspended from school for fighting, Danny was so angry he said, ‘You’d know better if you were a true Fromadgio, Nicolas.’ And Nicky wassoupset he?—”
“You’re a… you’re a Fromadgio?” Spike’s eyes went wide. “Wait, shit, when you sayDanny, do you mean?—”
“Grim, you asshole.” A biker stood and cuffed Grim on the side of the head. “You assaulted Dante the Cheese’s blood.”
“Excuse me, that’s not a nice way to talk about—” I began.
“I wasn’t assaulting him,” Grim protested, glancing around at his friends with panicked eyes. “I wasn’t! I was protecting Knuck.”
“How’s he gonna be protected when Dante comes after him?” one of the others shouted, sliding his chair back. “Now we’re all fucked!”
“No, that’s not—” I protested, but they were too busy shoving and bellowing at each other.
One of the regulars pushed off his barstool and turned. “Can you assholes shut the fuck up? I can’t hear the game with you yelling.”
A biker faced off against him, shoving him back against the bar. “Who’re you calling an asshole,asshole?”
I wasn’t entirely sure, afterward, who threw the first punch, but I did know it took only half a minute until the whole bar was engulfed in a melee. Fists flew, beer glasses sailed through the air. A man in a golf shirt was thrown across Amber’s table, and when his head ended up in Cheri’s cleavage, all three women jumped up and unleashed bloodcurdling screams.
I stood frozen in shock as the fight flowed around me, rowdy bikers facing off with enraged sports fans while bartenders hopped around, trying to control the chaos. I didn’t know who to help or how to help them or even which way I should turn to get to safety. But then Reed was there, right in front of me, Sunday-green eyes locked on mine, and suddenly, I was able to move again, tobreatheagain.
“Come on,” he shouted, propelling me toward the door.
I nodded, but before I could move, someone in a leather vest knocked into Reed, sending his elbow into Reed’s jaw and making Reed’s head snap back.
Reed’s nostrils flared, and in one fluid motion, he delivered a punch that made the man’s eyes roll back in his head.
I abhorred violence—honestly, no kidding, hated it—but I couldn’t deny that something about the move made my muscles clench with want.I reallyama hypocrite, I thought with a sigh.
“Move, Chris,” Reed insisted. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me bodily toward the door. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Jesus fucking Christ. My protectee started a goddamn bar brawl—” He shoved the door open without a word.
“I did not start a brawl,” I protested. “I was righting a wrong! I was doing a good deed. Did you see how Knuckleswas protecting Amber and her friends back there? How he had his arms wrapped around her? He loves her, and once I pointed it out to him, he really saw the error of his ways. It was beautiful.”
Reed carried me out into the parking lot without slowing down or letting go.
“Besides, would you call what happened abrawl, really? I think at most it was a… a minor altercation.”
He set me on my feet once we reached the road, but only so he could grab my wrist and tow me through the night to the motel.
“It was a small, contained misunderstanding… with regrettable fisticuffs,” I decided as Reed paused to grab his bag from the car before tugging me around the corner past a little alcove of vending machines toward one of the motel’s numbered doors. “A low-key—seriously negligible—accidental… tussle.”
The world was still spinning a little, and it was really flipping cold, except for the very hot spot on my wrist where Reed’s fingers were wrapped around me.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Chris Winowski,” Reed muttered. “You really might.”
Huh. Who knew Reed was so dramatic? I decided not to comment on it since he’d gotten me out of the tussle pretty effectively, and I figured I owed him one. Also, I had to admit that no matter how angry I was with him—and I was for sure still angry—when Reed touched me, I felt good. Grounded. Safe.
