Page 6 of Bullseye
“Friendly?”
Avery strikes him again, this time in the gut, and the Dog doubles over, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.
“This is friendly. If I were to throw a punch at you with even a fraction of my true strength, you’d be dead.”
Watching the Dog writhing on the ground, I believe it.
“You can’t kill me, Bullseye. It’ll be war. You know the rules. You can’t kill me when I come with a message. Or have you forgotten everything since that ‘walking rulebook’ freak Taylor bit the dust?”
One more quick punch to the stomach drops the Dog onto his seat. With bent knees, he scrambles back against the wall.
“What do you care, man? Taylor was insane!”
“Yes, he was,” Avery replies. “But he was also a Knight. And our President’s son. Show some respect.”
The Dog spits in the Steel Knight’s direction, and Avery rushes up to him, hovering above. “What’s your damned message?”
The man glares up at him, as Avery kicks him with the heel of his boot. That’s got to hurt.
“Tell me.”
“The message is…” The Dog gasps for a breath. “We know you’re low on men, and the next time we attack, you won’t be so lucky.”
“Is that a threat?”
“A warning. Now, you don’t have that damned fighting machine who ran off with your President’s daughter, and your membership is low…maybe the Knights have had their day.”
“We’ll be at capacity soon enough. And expanding. Don’t you worry about us.”
“Yeah? And where are your guys coming from?”
Avery uses the toe of his boot to poke the Dog. “Don’t worry about us. We’re recruiting. Matter of fact, we’re hosting an open night for prospects. Tomorrow night at Hoppa’s Taphouse. Wanna come?” A broad smile covers Avery’s face.
“You know if we were to turn out, it would be war.”
“Okay by me.”
The Dog looks away, snarling, then spits again.
“We’re expecting a shit-ton of men,” Avery continues. “More than the Dogs would ever see. You’ve got no respect in the community. Only people who want to pledge with the Dogs are losers, like, well, you.” Standing up straight, he crosses his arms and looks down, towering over the Dog.
With my bag held tightly to me, I sneak out of my lane that thankfully, is closest to the door. Hurrying past Jackson, I rush through the lobby and throwing myself against the cold brass of the door handle, I practically fall out into the cool night air.
I don’t need to stick around for whatever comes next. I’ve gotten what I wanted. And then some. I was hoping Bullseye would notice me. Now, I have the opportunity to flat-out make him pay attention.
All I have to do is get a member to nominate me, so I can pledge for the Steel Knights.
With my heart racing, I glide my leg over my bike, and straddling it, throw it in neutral, depress the clutch, and shift into gear. With a short burnout, I take off, leaving the range behind me in a cloud of Arizona’s fine reddish dirt.
Chapter Three
Bullseye
“Which one is Clyde?” Harry asks, spinning an empty bottle of beer between his huge palms while standing behind the bar at Hoppa’s Taphouse. Maybe it’s just me, but the energy in here is different tonight. It feels electric, like little zaps of electricity are shooting across the room. It’s almost like the walls and floor know something’s about to happen. Or maybe I’m just projecting.
“Clyde? Late forties. Skinny. Long hair.” It’s damn hard to sit still, so I sway back and forth on my stool on the opposite side of the bar. Around us, there’s a commotion as some of the guys prep for our scouting event tonight. I’m toying with the corner of a bar napkin, anxious.
“Yeah.” Tossing the bottle into the recycle bin in the far corner of the bar, Harry sighs. “I know him.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the bar. He looks at me, setting his eyes in that intense way he does.
