They were all closer, and my curiosity allowed me to hear past the whooshing in my ears.
The biker with the longish hair and, inexplicably, no shirt under his leather jacket, stopped in front of the teens, holding his hand out to one of them.
The girl handed it over immediately after looking over the rough-and-tumble guy. He seemed to do something, and I figured it was deleting the video, before handing it back. He went to the next girl, then the guy. Any no one fought him until he got to the last one.
"Don't fuck with me, kid," the guy demanded, but his voice was an oddly calm threat. "Give it over. This ain't your problem," he added. "Don't make me make it your problem," he finished, a phrase that finally made the guy hand his phone over to get the video deleted. "Good. Now get," he demanded.
"The police..."
"Leave," the man demanded, lurching the upper half of his body forward in a classic threatening move.
To a chorus of gasps from the girls, everyone rushed to climb in their car, peeling off just as I heard the cop cars coming down the street.
The cops barely pulled to a stop before they were rushing out of their cars, getting between the brawling men. Though, if I were being honest, it was no brawl at all. Since the other man's strikes looked a lot like they landed against a brick wall.
But within a few moments, I watched in horror as Malcolm was put in cuffs, and led away from the other man who slumped back against his truck.
"Hey, I'm just an innocent bystander, man," the other biker said when one of the cops shot him a hard look.
"There's nothing innocent about your club," the police officer said, but made his way toward me instead.
I was asked about calling the police, and was letting him know it hadn't been me who called when I noticed the other biker was approaching the guy leaning on the truck, passing, but clearly saying something to the man as he did so, pointing to something on the leather vest thing he was wearing. I had no idea what the threat meant, but the other man seemed to shrink back as the biker made his way over toward the other police officer and Malcolm.
"Where did the kids go?" the officer asked me, drawing my focus back to him.
"Oh, ah, I don't know. They, ah, they told me earlier that they had to get home because of class in the morning."
"There was no reason you saw that they left?" the officer asked.
And this was where I did something I never would have thought I was capable of before.
I lied to the police.
"No."
"Okay," he said, giving me a tight smile. "You've had quite the week," he said, offering me an apologetic head shake. "Is that the cook there?" he asked, making me look back at Don standing near the door inside.
"Yes," I said, waving him out with a swirling stomach.
"I didn't see shit," Don said before the cop could even ask him anything.
The police officer seemed taken aback at that, but quickly recovered. "Where were you when the assault happened?"
"Didn't see no assault."
"Sir, where were you?"
"Standing right there," Don said, waving back to where he'd been behind me, but inside the door.
"And you didn't see the assault?"
"Nope."
To that, the cop let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head.
"Fucking bikers," I swear he grumbled under his breath. But then he recovered, turning his attention back to me.
"She didn't see shit either," Don said for me.
"I believe the lady can speak for herself," the officer replied. "You can head back in to work. Since you didn't 'see shit,'" he added.
He was just about to talk to me again when the other man by the truck called him away from me.
My gaze moved back toward Malcolm whose gaze was on me as he was led to the side of the police cruiser, and lowered into the back.
It might have been my imagination, but I was pretty sure he gave me a head shake before he disappeared inside, and that car pulled away, making my stomach tighten.
I watched the rest unfold with dread in my stomach as the other man seemed to be issued a ticket and sent on his way.
The other biker was on his phone for a second, but hung up and listened as the police officer came over to tell me it was all handled before getting in his cruiser and heading out.
"Hey," I called to the biker as he started back toward his bike. "Hey you," I called again, watching as he turned and walked halfway back toward me.
"Dezi," he said, giving me a smile.
"Dezi, is Malcolm alright?"
"Oh, don't worry about him. Just some battery charges," he said, shrugging.
"Charges?" I asked, gulping.
This was my fault.