My fated mate on the back of my bike—what a life!

That was all I could think as I sped down the highway on the way back to Bottoms Up with Percy’s arms wrapped around me and the engine of my Harley chortling like a rampaging hippo between my legs. This was what life was all about.

The flat Texan expanse seemed to barely move as we drove, the acres and acres of farmland and pastures for longhorns sat on either side of us beneath a blue sky spotted with puffy, white cumulus clouds that seemed to float lazily like they had nowhere better to be.

I was pretty sure Killoran and his stooges would not be back at the bar waiting for us. They’d be home nursing the wounds I’d given them, but one thing was for sure; once they recovered they’d be back to stir up some shit, and I’d have to be ready.

I’d taken them once, and I could do it again. The only real danger was whether or not they’d get the drop on me. A surprise attack could be a real problem, but for that, they’d have to track us back to my house, which was a long way from the bar, and if they didn’t come back within a few hours, they wouldn’t be able to catch my scent. I wasn’t too worried about it. Besides, I’d finished Harold off, so they were down a man—at least for now.

I saw our turn and took it, steering the bike off the highway like a ship tacking in heavy winds. It wasn’t long before we were pulling up out front. The place looked different in broad daylight without any of the lights on. The dirt parking lot, the worn paint and the bare light bulb above the front door—none of it screamed high class, and I could understand why Percy wasn’t thrilled about being in charge of the place. I pulled the bike to the side by the dumpster and shut off the engine.

“Woo, that’s exciting,” Percy laughed as he hopped off.

“I thought we were going to your place to get your stuff?” I asked him.

“We are,” he said, turning towards a side door I’d never noticed before. “I live upstairs.”

My heart sank when I heard that. I guess I had just assumed that he’d been living at his parents’ old house or had a place of his own. The whole building for Bottoms Up wasn’t even that big—I couldn’t imagine what kind of apartment he’d been living in.

“Didn’t you folks leave you the house?” I asked him as I got off and walked over to him.

“Something about back taxes,” he grumbled as he tugged at the door which seemed to be stuck.

“Seriously?”

“Yup,” he grunted, bracing a foot against the wall and tugging harder.

“Let me do that,” I told him, stepping up and yanking the door open.

“So strong,” he smiled as he took the stairs to the second floor. It was musty inside, and grew hotter as we ascended. That was the problem with living anywhere but on the ground floor in Texas—without constant AC, even in the spring, things could get hot. He opened another inner door at the top of the stairs and we stepped into his apartment.

As I’d suspected, it was modest and looked like an old storage room that no one had ever been meant to live in. There were boxes of various things for the bar, napkins and paper towels, even some drinks and extra glasses. Over in the corner was a bed and a small rack of clothes. The poor guy had probably just converted the place after his parents died and had been staying there ever since. In fact, I didn’t even see a bathroom.

“Hey, Percy,” I said slowly. “No bathroom?”

“I use the one downstairs,” he said. I could hear the shame in his voice and stepped over quickly and put a hand on his lower back.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” I told him. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know,” he replied, leaning against me. “I just—there was only so much I could do after I left them. I tried to keep this place going, but it was their dream, not mine, ya know?”

“I do,” I nodded, stroking his head. “And you’ve done a great job. You just need a little help. But I’m here now. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

He smiled and moved to his clothing rack. He didn’t have much, just a few t-shirts and a couple of extra pairs of jeans. In a way, that was good, as not a whole lot more would be able to fit in the saddle bags of my bike, and I don’t think either of us wanted to make two trips back and forth. He grabbed some things, and I took the rest.

“Got everything?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, coming over to me. “Besides, I’ve got more than I need right here.”

“You sweet talker,” I smiled, kissing him on the lips. We made our way back down the stairs and over to the bike and just as we were starting to load things up, an old rusty maroon car pulled in and parked.

“That’s Ron,” Percy told me as a young man got out of the car. I recognized him as the beta with the shiner from the first time I’d shown up at the bar. He was a brave guy for coming back to work after getting his ass handed to him. “Hey, Ronnie!”

“Hi, Percy,” Ron replied, looking a little worse for wear.

“Listen, I’m so sorry about last night,” Percy said with genuine concern. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the Jackals for you,” Ron grumbled as he made his way to the front door of the bar to open.

“Say, do you remember that guy Nate?” Percy asked. “He came in here a couple times. Dark curly hair?”

“Nate?” Ron replied, thinking as he slowly tugged the door open. “Not ringing any bells.”

“You know, big huge alpha, curly hair—”

“Do you mean Preston?” Ron replied with a shrug.

“Yes!” Percy replied instantly, snapping his fingers. “Preston!”

“How did you get Nate from Preston?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Percy laughed. “Hey, do you know how to get in touch with him? He runs a farm or something outside Austin, right?”

“He does,” Ron replied, taking out his phone. “Really good vegetables actually. I buy jalapenos from him whenever I can. You want his number?”

“If you have it.”

Ron scrolled through his phone and tossed me a grin. “You okay with that?”

“It’s not like that,” I chuckled. “Work, not pleasure.”

“Hey, if you guys wanna throw a third into the mix, why not?” Ron joked with a shrug. “Works for some people.”

“Just gimme the number, Ron!” Percy replied. Ron, grinning like a dickhead, sent him a text.

“There you go.”

“Thank you,” Percy replied. “Listen, would you be okay covering tonight for me if I’m not able to make it in? I’ve got a lot going on today.”

“For time and a half I would,” Ron smiled. Percy nodded, twisting his lips, mildly annoyed.

“Fine, Ron,” he replied. “But if the Jackals show up again, you give me a call immediately. Okay?”

“Got it.”

And with that, Ron headed inside and we got back on the bike and headed home. Before we headed out though, Percy sent a text to that Preston fellow.

“Let’s hope he replies soon,” Percy said as we pulled off.