Page 3 of Archer
“There’s only one reason why good people turn to the dark side,” Tank said. “Desperation.”
“Drugs?” Rooster suggested. “Getting people addicted then cutting them off?”
“No,” Tank said. “Not from what it seems. The first man went missing two months ago. Clean cut man with a wife and children. His wife called the police and once they trailed the lead back to the Freeways, guess they basically told them it’s his own fault for getting involved and dropped the case.” Tank looked disgusted. “Fucking pigs can’t ever do their jobs.”
“Any update on him?” Wrench asked, and Tank shook his head.
“I think the wife and kids moved back with her parents over in North Carolina. Probably scared they’d be next,” he said. “The other families involved, I guess. Apparently, each family moved from their homes, leaving nothing behind but aFor Salesign. Then, the next day, the empty houses would be torched.”
“Seems like something the Freeways would do,” I said as I lit up a cigarette.
“I’ve heard of them doing something like this before, decades ago, under their old president…” Tank was in deep thought. “I never knew the whole story, but I’ll try to see what I can find out.”
“We’re not getting involved in this, are we?” Crow asked. “Far as I’m concerned, until they come on our side, it’s not our problem.”
“Of course not,” Wrench said. “We’ve got our own shit to deal with. But it’s good to be informed. We don’t want any surprises from them, let’s keep an ear out for anything suspicious.”
I took a drag from my smoke. “You’re the boss, Tank.”
“Fuck, you’re annoying today,” Tank said, and I laughed at how easily I could get under Tank’s skin by bugging. “All right, I’ve gotta drive Evelyn back home. Her truck got a flat tire earlier. Piece-of-shit truck. Don’t know why she won’t just ride the bike…” Tank grumbled his way toward Evelyn standing behind the bar.
“Yeah, I’ve gotta go to Samantha’s dad’s and help him with his sprinkler system,” Wrench said as he stood from his seat and I shook my head at him, tutting my tongue.
“Can’t believe what this place is coming to…” Archer said. “Whipped by women.”
“All right, Archer,” Wrench laughed and clasped my shoulder. “When you actually get anywhere with your baker, we can talk about who’s whipped.”
With that Wrench left, followed by Maverick and Rooster shortly after, leaving me alone with Crow, drinking his Jack and coke. In his late forties, he was made bitter by his lifetime in motorcycle clubs and used callousness to alienate himself from the rest of the world. Most women were too afraid to approach him because he always looked like he was ready to stab someone at any given time. But every now and then a woman would try to catch his attention, attracted to his thorny exterior, and he’d shut them down.
Bored, I decided to try to stir things up a bit. All the women in the bar were with groups of friends, meaning I’d need a wingman. I turned to Crow with a sly grin.
“Hey, Crow,” I said, motioning to a blonde woman in her forties glancing at our table. “Check out that babe over there.”
“No.”
“No, seriously,” I said. “She’s checking you out.”
Crow responded by standing from his chair and walking away from me and into the bathroom without glancing at the blonde woman. I gave a light chuckle before sighing and scanning the bar, alone at my table. My thoughts began to wander, wondering which of these women would be the most exciting to spend the night with. None of them caught my attention, though, and my eyes fell back to the uneaten cinnamon bun in front of me.
I opened the box and ripped a piece of the fluffy, sticky bread off. The sweet, candied cinnamon sugar melted on my tongue and I thought of Rose’s smirk.
“Maybe one day,” I said and licked my lips.
Chapter Two
Rose
How many times does a girl need to reject a guy before he gets the hint? I asked myself as I flipped the “open” sign off and finished tidying the bakery before heading home. Archer had been asking me out at least once a week for over a year despite my constant, unwavering “no.” Sure, persistence showed character, but at some point, he had to give up.
“Maybe one day…” I said out loud to myself. Archer was a delicious man who belonged shirtless on the poster of a teen girl’s wall and not in my father’s bakery. He was the epitome of a heartthrob, danger combined with a sexy charisma that probably made every girl he talked to swoon.
I picked up a broom and began sweeping the remaining flour and sugar off the brown tiled floor. Sure, Archer might be hot. Okay, he might be really hot with his symmetrical dimples and lean, muscular body. But I wasn’t interested. He wasn’t my type and he never would be. No, no. I had the exact image in mind of who I’d be with, and Archer could not be further from it. Although, he was a frequent customer in our dying business. Even if the main motivation was to convince me to go out with him, I wasn’t in any position to shoo away a paying customer because he wouldn’t leave me alone.
Besides, it was flattering, I thought. Being cooped up in the bakery all the time, it was rare I had the pleasure of interacting with someone as handsome as him. It could be worse.
I jumped when the locked door’s bell chimed.
Turning around, I was relieved to see it was only my father rushing inside, locking the door behind him. Though when I noticed the frantic energy surrounding him, I became tense myself. “Dad? What’s wrong?”
