Page 2 of Ace's Legacy
Sarah nods, and I slide into the vacated seat before someone else can claim it.
"Your friend doesn't like me," I observe.
"She doesn't know you," Sarah counters, taking a sip of her drink, something fruity with an umbrella.
"Neither do you."
Her eyes meet mine directly now, assessing. "I know enough."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She gestures toward Viper, who's watching us like a hawk from the bar. "The cuts, the patches. I know who the Outlaw Order is."
Interesting. Most locals either worship us or fear us. She doesn't seem to do either.
"And what do you think you know about me?" I lean closer, drawn to her scent, sweet but not overpowering.
"That you're trouble." There's no judgment in her voice, just certainty.
I can't help but laugh. She's not wrong. "Sweetheart, I'm the best kind of trouble."
She tilts her head, studying me with those intelligent eyes. "Does that line usually work for you?"
"I don't need lines." It's not arrogance, just fact. With my face, what everyone the club calls "angel-pretty", I rarely have to try hard. It's one of the few gifts life gave me.
"Then why are you trying so hard with me?" she asks, and the question catches me off guard.
I open my mouth, then close it. For once, I don't have a ready answer. Why am I trying? Why does it matter what this particular woman thinks of me?
Before I can respond, a burly guy approaches our table. "This asshole bothering you, Sarah?"
Great. Just what I need.
Sarah looks uncomfortable. "It's fine, Mike. We're just talking."
Mike. I recognize him now. Local construction worker who thinks he owns the bar because his cousin tends it on weekends.
"Didn't know you were into biker trash," he sneers.
I stay seated, my posture relaxed even as I calculate exactly how I'd take him down if necessary. "Careful, Mike. Your jealousy is showing."
His face reddens. "What did you say to me?"
"I'm pretty sure you heard me." I flash my most irritating smile, the one that's gotten me punched more times than I can count.
"Ryan," Sarah warns quietly.
Mike leans down, getting in my face. "Why don't you go back to your own kind before you get hurt?"
I notice two of his buddies watching from nearby. Three against one. Not great odds, but I've faced worse.
"Mike, stop it," Sarah says more firmly. "Just go away."
"Not until this piece of shit leaves you alone."
I should walk away. I know I should. Viper's already standing at the bar, sensing trouble. But something about the way this asshole is looking at Sarah—like she's his property—makes my blood boil.
"The lady's made it clear who she wants to talk to," I say, standing slowly. At six-one, I've got a couple inches on him. "And it's not you."
