Thoughts of Shell and the diner steered his mind toward thoughts of Toni. And that was nothing but trouble. He had no use for a woman taking up space in his head. Not now, when shit was coming to a head with the Dragons.
“Here’s what I want,” Copper said, after what had to have been five minutes of silence. “Grab their dealers, see if you can get any info out of ’em. Rough ’em up a little. Not enough to warrant any hospital visits, but enough they won’t be able to fuck any of those nasty gang bitches for a while.”
Zach leaned back in his chair. As enforcer, that task would fall to him.
Copper met his gaze. “We need to send a message to Shark. We’re on to him, and he can’t fuck around in our territory. Actually, let’s take it one step further. We’ve been lax about letting them through our turf because we’ve never had any beef. So, you see any of those banger assholes in our town, you bring ’em in. Zach will take care of ’em.”
Copper stared straight at Zach who nodded in response to the unasked question. He understood. He agreed. He was ready. His mind was in the game. And he’d stay that way.
“We take a step back and impose strict territory rules. We stay off their turf, they aren’t welcome in ours. I don’t give a shit what you see them doing, eating pizza, mowing their grandma’s lawn, having coffee at the fucking diner. You see ’em wearing their colors, they get a visit with Zach. Everyone on board?”
The men grunted their approval as Zach’s brain whirled with possibilities. His life was about to get hectic as shit. Being seen around town was nothing new for the Gray Dragons. “We gonna let them know they’re not welcome, or are we just going to start snatching them off the street?”
“I’ll be letting them know.” Copper’s lips twitched. Crazy fuckin’ Prez was enjoying this shit. “It’s only fair to give them a heads up. All right. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Bar’s calling my name.”
The men filed out thumping Zach on the shoulder as they left. They all knew he was up to the task and could handle it as enforcer. But, holding the title didn’t mean he went looking for shitheads to pound on. Sure, he got enjoyment out of scaring little boys like Bill, but doling out punishment that could start a war between clubs? Not exactly something to look forward to.
“You good?” Mav asked, once they were the only two remaining at the table.
“Yep.”
“Heard your sexy new neighbor lifted the ban on our kind at the diner.”
An image of Toni and her mouthwatering curves floated through Zach’s mind. “She sure did.”
“Well, I gotta be out of town the next two days for Copper, but what do you say we get ourselves some fuckin’ pancakes Sunday morning?”
Zach smiled. He’d be busy as hell himself the next few days. Early mornings, late nights. Probably meant he wouldn’t lay eyes on Toni again. “Sounds perfect to me.”
Watching Toni’s ass flit around the diner would be the perfect way to turn what was bound to be a shitty weekend into something to look forward to.
Chapter Seven
Toni thought she understood busy, as far as the typical rush of the diner. Hungry townsfolk and visitors poured through the doors, keeping the tables full and the staff hopping. Everyone wanted to chat with her, and she was blown away by the number of patrons who had stories from when she was a child running loose in the diner.
Their memories never failed to bring a smile to her face. As she’d grown older and her relationship with her parents declined, it became difficult to recall any happiness from her younger days. Hearing the stories helped her to remember there were times of definite happiness in her childhood. It helped heal some of the wounds inflicted by her parents’ rejection.
The mornings were so hectic, by the time they closed at one each afternoon, she was exhausted and dreading the supply ordering and bookkeeping awaiting her.
Then Saturday rolled around, and Toni learned a new definition of the word busy. The servers were practically sprinting between tables to keep up with the demands for coffee top-offs, extra butter, and checks. A long line out the door all morning led to a constant stream of orders, and lingering customers kept the diner open hours past its typical closing time. By the time they’d chased the final diners out the doors, cleaned the restaurant, and the staff headed for home, they were almost three hours past typical closing time.
“Holy crap,” Toni said to Michelle as she flexed her feet in her sensible but ugly work shoes. The arches ached something fierce. “How the hell do you do this every week?” They were lounging in a booth, both too bushed to move.