“You want a trophy to help stroke that ego too? The cash not enough for you?”
Mercenary grins and the change in his features is striking enough to make me draw in a stunned breath. He’s gorgeous when he’s not busy glaring at everything. “If stroking is on your mind, I have something big to put in your hands. Fill you right up and quench that need.”
“Cute,” I huff, and he plants his ass in the seat in front of me. “What do you really want?”
His ice blue gaze flicks over me. “You couldn’t handle it if I was honest, so we’ll settle for dinner for now.”
“Not happening unless it doesn’t include me, cupcake.”
“You’re not gonna drop that anytime soon, huh?”
“Not planning on it, no. Why, does it bother you?” I ask and smile sweetly. I love fucking with him already, and I’ve barely met the dude.
“Hmph,” he grumbles as Ace stumbles in, wide-eyed.
“What’s wrong?”
“A few guys claiming they need a word with you.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
His eyes flick to Mercenary, and he tilts his head toward him. “His club doesn’t get along with them.”
“The Oath Keepers?”
At that, Mercenary turns to face Ace, finally giving him some attention. “Who is it?”
“The Iron Fists,” Ace replies in nearly a whisper.
“The fuck you got to talk to them about?” The broody biker questions me next with a glare.
I shrug. I really have no idea why they’d be demanding to speak to me. Unless maybe they bet some cash and lost it. A lot of trouble comes from that shit around here, but we need the extra money too badly to stop taking bets.
“You have to go,” I tell him, and he flashes his teeth, the man’s feral.
“Fuck no. They’re bad news. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t need a keeper; I got you on your back, didn’t I?”
“That was different.”
“Um Chevy, these guys aren’t the type who wait for long,” Ace interrupts.
“Goddamn it,” the alpha gripes impatiently.
“Fine, if you insist on staying, cupcake, you’ll have to stand in my bathroom. I don’t want them seeing you in here before I even know what the hell they want. You have to be quiet. I don’t want to die because of whatever beef you have between clubs.”
“I’m spanking your ass for this,” he grumbles as his chair slings back a bit with his quick movement to stand.
“Do us both a favor while you wait in there and hold your breath.”
He shoots me one last glare before disappearing into my bathroom. He leaves the door open. I’m assuming he’s behind it in case these Iron Fists poke their head in to search.
“Okay, Ace, let’s get this over with. Send them in.”
He nods, and I sit back, relaxed. Most of these guys will back down if they think they can’t intimidate you easily. I can kick ass if needed but it’s better if I conserve that fact for when I really require it. I’ll admit the Iron Fists make me uneasy and having an Oath Keeper in my bathroom does bring me a touch of peace of mind. Viking and his club are good allies to have around here.
Anyone in the life dealing with gambling, racing, motorcycles, etc. knows the Iron Fists aren’t good news. They’re a sick and twisted outlaw motorcycle club that loves terrorizing people. I would’ve been just fine if they overlooked The Pit. Their money is some that I actually don’t want. Wouldn’t surprise me if it came with conditions or blood splatter.