Ace comes back into my office, two dudes in tow. One’s burly but short, kind of what I’d think of with a modern-day gnome. He’s just missing a pointy hat to cover his long, unruly, cinnamon-colored hair. The other is thinner, not too hard on the eyes, with sandy locks coming to his chin, but his club colors syphon away any attraction I might conjure up immediately.
“This is Chevelle.” Ace’s hand flies forward, gesturing to me still kicked back behind the desk like I deal with their type daily. I do to an extent, but not quite as notorious—usually just druggies hurting for cash or pissed off racers who lost. From what I’ve heard in rumors floating around, the Iron Fists are an MC that you want to stay off their radar.
Blondie’s stare turns heated taking me in while the other seems bored. “Get me a beer,” Auburn hair gnome orders Ace.
“You’re not staying long enough for a beer,” I interrupt. “Now, why are you taking up my time? I have shit to do.”
That gets his attention but his buddy butts in first. “Fuck, the things I’ll do to that mouth. Didn’t know you were running this place or my Prez would’ve sent us sooner.”
“Again, why are you here?” I repeat, sounding monotone and ignore his previous comment.
“Watch how you talk to us, bitch,” the grouch chastises, and it takes everything inside me to remain calm. I want to kick the idiot in the balls and wash his mouth out with soap.
“You came to me, not the other way around.”
“Right.” The good-looking one nods and steps closer to my right side, almost around the desk. It’s an intimidation tactic. In a second, the other guy will go to my left. They’ll think they can box me in. “We came to you,” he agrees, and I drum my fingers on my thigh, keeping my face void of emotion but my body ready to leap whenever needed.
“You could start with your names and then move to why you’re standing in my office.”
“That’s easy.” He shrugs. “Me and my brother came because our boss wants a cut.”
A chuckle breaks free and they both glare, probably growing more pissed by the minute with my flippant attitude. “Why should I give you anything?” It doesn’t escape my notice that they blow off the other question and skip over the names. Greedy bastards, that’s for sure.
“Because we’ll be taking over soon enough and anyone in business not wanting problems will pay up.”
“Is that what you think? That we’ll all just roll over and cough up cash for you? That this area is up for grabs?” Everyone knows who Viking and Ares are, the two motorcycle club presidents in this area and there’s no way in hell they’d let someone just come right in and take over. I’ve heard enough employees spill rumors about the two as well as watching them with my own eyes squash down any issues when they first popped up together in The Pit.
“Stupid mouthy bitch.” The one on the left nearly rounds my desk, and I stand to my feet. He seems to have a problem with his vocabulary. I should fix it for him.
Ace grows ashen. “Guys, you shouldn’t get that close to Chevelle. How about you talk another time?”
“Isn’t that fuckin’ perfect, door boy’s trying to stand up for this mouthy piece.” Walnut locks nods to me and snickers. This isn’t the first time someone’s spoken to me with such disrespect; in fact, it happens quite often. I’ve learned to let the majority of it roll off because when it all boils down to it, men with small penises are not worth going to jail for.
My bathroom door widens, opening enough for a large man to fit through and out strolls Mercenary sans cut, with his chin high and sharp, eyes curious and unnervingly calm. I can’t believe he thought to take it off. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or irritated with his presence. I haven’t quite figured the guy out just yet. At any rate, these two jackoffs here attempting to push me around will be dumb enough to believe I have backup muscle to help me out.
“Who the fuck are you?” Burly biker gnome grumbles as Mercenary stalks around my desk to plant himself firmly between me and the asshat full of attitude.
He stands tall and imposing, arms crossed on his chest in his confident stance only making him appear bigger than before. “Boyfriend,” he replies, and it takes folding my hands into fists and squeezing them harshly not to argue. Now’s not the time and place to tell him to stuff his boyfriend fantasy up his ass and that it’ll never happen with us.
“Tell your bitch to pay up or else we’ll be the ones taking turns with her pussy.”
The blond dude agrees, checking me out. “I’ll take her first and then pass her around amongst my brothers.” So much for him kind of being good-looking. I’d rather kick his teeth in.
“Over my dead body,” Mercenary declares, and I swallow. He just threw down the gauntlet to guys like these. And with a claim like that, they’ll no doubt believe he’s my man now, and a stupid one at that for coming to my defense against an entire club of bikers. A regular man wouldn’t stand a chance. Luckily, he has the Oath Keepers on his side.
They both lunge at the same time, and I concentrate on goldilocks while Mercenary bloody ups the other guy. We move in sync like we’d practiced it time and time again only I barely know cupcake, how can this be possible? He throws a punch, and I head-butt the biker before he registers the move. With each punch, we remain back to back until I’m able to flip my guy and get his stomach to the ground.
Mercenary must’ve called someone before this all began because moments later two Oath Keepers rush in. I have homeboy planted facedown on the ground, straddling his back with his arms pinned behind his back. He’s spitting mad too, promising to do all types of nasty things to me when he’s free. I’ll sit here until my limbs give out if I have to. I learned the hard way, growing up on the streets, alone, for the most part, you don’t get up too quickly.
“You all right?” Mercenary peers down at me after driving a swift kick to gnome guy’s face. He’s completely knocked out, bleeding all over my office floor. I nod, and his gaze remains trained on me for longer than I care for. We kicked ass together. It doesn’t mean I’ll be sharing a wedding cake or anything with the man.
“Hey, Chevelle.” Odin grins. “I see you’re still bringing men to the ground.”
I smile and shrug. “Same shit, different day.”
“I’m glad my brother was here in case you needed some backup.”
The guy under me twists his hips. “You’re so fucking dead, cunt.”