Randi
I couldn’t figure out what’d happened.
One minute I’d been having one of the most exciting sexual experiences of my life. The next my ribs were being crushed as Rome slammed into me. Then I was on my feet, trying to catch my breath, as people shouted all around us. The music had stopped. Thankfully, Rome’s big body formed a barrier between me and the rest of the room, because everyone else in the place had lost their minds.
For an instant, I thought maybe I’d be safe behind him. Then some guy in a cowboy hat launched toward us, fists flying. I don’t know what I expected, maybe that Rome would start punching him—you know, like they always do in movies—but instead he ducked, then started dragging me toward the bar. More shouting. I saw a man lift a chair and slam it down against another guy’s back from behind. The poor bastard went down hard, so hard that his head literally bounced on the floor. He couldn’t even get his hands up in time to break the fall.
This definitely wasn’t a movie.
I needed to get the hell out of here. Now.
Rome didn’t need to drag me any more—adrenaline had set in and sexy times were forgotten. My instincts said to run, and I wasn’t going to argue. Running wasn’t really possible, though, what with people and bottles and tables flying all around us.
It felt like it took an hour just to get across the room, although it was probably just a few seconds. Nothing touched me. Every other step, he was pushing me to the side, standing over me, or slamming into someone to get them out of the way until we reached an opening at the far end of the bar. He shoved me down behind it, toward a group of women huddling under the safety of the ledge.
“Stay here and keep your head down!” he said, catching my eyes to make sure I heard him. “I’ll be back soon.”
With that, he left to wade back into the crowd.
Someone wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I turned my head to find Tinker sitting next to me. Beyond her was another woman who’d been with the Reapers earlier. Peaches crouched just past them. I widened my eyes at my old classmate, shooting her a nonverbal, What the actual fuck?
She rolled hers back at me and shrugged like it was no big deal, even as a bottle flew over the top of the bar, hitting the row of hard liquor on the shelf above. I ducked as booze and glass exploded all around us, covering my face.
When I raised my head again, Peaches’ expression had changed. She’d gone from slightly exasperated to outraged. Apparently she didn’t mind a scuffle, but bottles breaking and booze on the floor pissed her off. Fair enough. Someone was going to have to clean up this mess, and the smart money was on her. She leaned over and grabbed a baseball bat, then stood up and took a swing at someone who must’ve been trying to climb over the bar.
“Holy shit!” I said to Tinker, terrified. “What the hell is going on?”
“No idea. It’s our job to stay out of the way,” she replied firmly, and I couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t freaking out. I mean, she didn’t look happy to be there, but she wasn’t in a state of raw panic, either. Me? I was getting there. Fast.
Someone shouted, and suddenly Peaches jumped up onto the bar, standing tall as she yelled at the crowd, waving the bat menacingly.
“I can’t believe this is happening!” I hissed at Tinker. The wooden bar sheltering us shuddered as a body slammed into it. Somewhere along the way, someone had turned on the bright overhead lights, and then a shotgun exploded, echoing through the building.
We all froze. The distinctive sound of the gun being cocked again rang through the room—a clear threat. I tucked my head down and huddled close to Tinker. Peaches kept her stance on the bar, which scared me. She was an easy target up there, and now someone was shooting. Why the hell wasn’t she hiding with us?
“Okay, you’ve had your fun. Time to end it!” a man shouted, his voice surprisingly calm. “Cops are coming, and the ambulance. If you were part of the fight, now’s the time to get out. You go fast enough, maybe you won’t get arrested. We know who you are, and we’ll be happy to help you find your way if you can’t remember where the door is. As for everyone else, we’ll have this cleaned up in about twenty minutes and get the band playing again. Thanks for your patience.”
Peaches glanced down at us and winked. Tinker sighed, giving me an extra squeeze.
“I guess we better make sure our men are still intact,” she said. “I so didn’t need this tonight.”
I swallowed, wondering how she knew we were really safe.
“What about the gun?”
“Oh, that’s just Gus. He owns the bar,” she said, flashing me a quick smile. “Sometimes he likes to give people a little reminder of who’s in charge—don’t worry about it. He’s never actually shot anyone. Just the ceiling.”
I swallowed, realizing that maybe I should’ve taken stories about the Starkwood Saloon a little more seriously.
“Although I have to admit this seems a little worse than usual,” Tinker added, her face thoughtful. “Honestly—the fights are mostly small, and they tend to shut them down fast.”
“You know all this and yet you still come here on purpose?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the situation. I’d just been in a bar fight. I’d had to hide for my own safety.
On a date.
That would be the same date where I dry humped a guy against the wall, I realized. In public. Oh my God. There were whole layers of fucked-upedness going on here.
Beyond the bar, I heard the scrape of chairs and muttering as people started moving. Someone was crying, too, and I thought I heard a few moans of pain.
“The club likes to hang out here,” Tinker replied. “And we always have a good time. Honestly—this only happens a couple times a year, and usually it’s not this bad. Somehow tonight got out of control fast.”
“It’s safe now,” Peaches said, reaching down for my hand. She’d jumped off the bar without me noticing. “It was just some drunk cowboys fighting over a girl or something. All good. They’re hauling them out, and then we’ll get things cleaned up. The fight wasn’t as big as it felt. We were in the thick of it, so it seemed worse than it really was.”
I took her hand and stood up slowly, turning to look around the room, wondering what’d happened to Rome. A chaotic mess of people moved toward the exits, some of them still looking pretty pissed off. About half the tables and chairs had been knocked down in the section right in front of us, surrounded by broken glass and spilled drinks.
A clump of crying girls huddled against the back wall. Not far from where Rome had kissed me was a group of about ten men—maybe half of them bikers—surrounding something and speaking in low voices.
Surprisingly, most of the people didn’t seem like they were in a hurry to get out. Quite a few were hanging out over by the patio door, drinking and watching as a couple of big guys who had to be bouncers talked to some angry-looking cowboys.
They seemed to be encouraging them to leave quietly.
The cowboys started moving to the door. They were almost out when one of them stopped and turned, snarling at some imagined insult from someone who’d been watching them. One of the Reapers stepped out of the crowd and crossed his arms, blocking the man’s way. For an instant I thought we might have another fight on our hands, but then another Reaper joined him, and the cowboy backed off.
“Was the club part of the fight?” I asked Tinker as I searched for Rome’s familiar form. Where was he? Had he gotten hurt? Oh, God. I hoped he wasn’t hurt. My stomach twisted thinking about it.
“The Reapers didn’t start it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she told me. “But they aren’t afraid of a fight, either. Gage and I were just dancing. Suddenly people started hitting each other, and he told me to hide back here. They don’t abandon each other in a fight, so I’m assuming he went back out to help one of the brothers.”
The group of girls against the wall had started arguing. I looked over, wondering what their story was. Several wore short shorts with their ass cheeks hanging out, while the rest wore miniskirts. Plaid western shirts had been tied up around their bare tummies, and they had cheap boots that’d never seen any dirt. Fake blond hair and long red nails completed the picture.
Buckle bunnies.
They couldn’t seem to decide whether they should leave. Most of them clearly wanted to go, but one kept shaking her head. Tears ran down her face in long, black tracks of cheap mascara and she gestured toward the clump of men I’d noticed earlier.
Peaches pushed past me and walked over to them purposefully, cutting off the argument and pointing toward the door.
The girls shared nervous looks, then nodded and started for the exit. Peaches headed to the group of men next. I wondered how she was going to get past that high wall of male backs, but the girl wasn’t shy. Not even a little bit. She marched right up and poked one until he got out of her way. The rest parted for her like the Red Sea.
“Ambulance is coming. Make room for the EMTs,” she said, her voice loud enough to carry across the room. They all started backing away, still muttering but clearly willing to cooperate. Now I could see what they’d been looking at—two men kneeling next to what had to be a body. One of them was big guy in a white T-shirt with dark hair. The other was Rome’s friend with the fire and rescue.
For one horrifying minute, I thought someone had died. Not only that, I still hadn’t found Rome. My heart started speeding up as I narrowed my eyes, trying to see who was laid out on the floor. Calm down, I told myself sternly. It’s probably not him, but even if it is, panicking won’t make anyone’s life easier.
The man on the floor groaned and moved his hand—he was alive. Oh, thank God. Breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding broke free. The big guy in the white shirt reached down, steadying his patient before looking up at Peaches.
It was Rome.
Relief flooded me. He’d taken off his MC colors, and his flannel shirt had somehow disappeared, but I didn’t see any bruises or blood. Peaches listened to him carefully, then turned and looked to the bar, catching my eye.
“There’s a first aid kit under the counter in front of you,” she yelled. “Can you bring it over?”
Thankful for a chance to do something useful, I ducked down, trying to find it.
“There,” Tinker said, pointing to a bright orange box that’d been pushed toward the back of a shelf. Grabbing it, I stepped out from the bar and headed for Rome.
“Here you go,” I said, handing it over. He reached for it, his face absolutely focused as he opened the kit and pulled out a roll of bandages. The poor man on the floor was blinking up at the lights, looking confused. With a start, I realized that I recognized him from the fight—it was the guy who’d gotten hit with the chair.
I’d literally watched his head bouncing off the floor.
There were a couple of flannel shirts balled up and braced on either side of his head. One was Rome’s, I realized. I wondered why he’d done it, and then some detached part of my brain remembered a first aid class I’d taken once upon a time. There’d been something about stabilizing people until you knew for sure whether they had a spinal injury.
Scary.
The poor man’s face was covered in blood, with more spattered across the floor. His shirt had been torn at one shoulder, and there seemed to be blood everywhere.
“Hang in there,” Rome said, his voice steady as he grabbed a handful of gauze and started wrapping the guy’s hand. Someone had used paper napkins to try and stop the bleeding. Now they were bright red with blood. The cut must’ve been bad, because more was already seeping through.
This guy is really lucky they’re here tonight, I realized.
“Fuck…” the man moaned, trying to look around. Rome’s friend kept his head still, a hand on either side to stabilize it. He must have medical training, too.
“Best to play it safe for now,” he said. “I don’t think you’ve got a neck injury, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Ambulance should be here soon.”
“Don’t want an ambulance,” the guy muttered, his eyes dazed. “Competition’s not over yet. Just give me my hat and…”
His voice trailed off, and his eyes closed.
“Oh fuck,” Peaches said, startling me. I’d forgotten she was standing next to me. “Is he dying?”
Rome glanced up at us, and to my relief, he didn’t seem overly concerned. “No, I think he’s mostly drunk. Pulse is strong and he’s breathing. He’s probably fine except for the hand, maybe a concussion, but they’ll make sure at the ER.”
“Heads up,” his friend said suddenly. “We got blood underneath. It’s seeping through his pants.”
“Okay,” Rome replied, all business as he turned back to his patient. “Peaches, would you clear everyone out of the area?”
I took that as my cue, stepping back as I tried figure out what to do with myself. My heart was still pounding too fast, and the air in the bar felt stifling. I could feel myself sway. Crap. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I could feel the alcohol again.
My stomach roiled. For an instant I thought I might barf.
Fresh air would help.
Rome seemed to have things under control in here, and it wasn’t like there was anything I could do to help anyway. Go outside and pull yourself together. It didn’t take long to cross the room. There was still a crowd hanging around the patio door, but I managed to slip through the bodies and work my way outside into the cool night air.
Oh, that was better.
A lot better.
The space was a bare-bones concrete slab, surrounded by the fence I’d seen when we’d first arrived. There were about twenty metal tables, and strings of white lights gave everything a cheerful glow. The patio was mostly empty, although I saw a young couple off to one side. Everyone else must’ve either gone inside to watch the spectacle or they’d left.
I walked over to one of the corners, forcing myself to lean back against the wooden boards and calm down. I couldn’t quite believe how fast everything had gone weird and wrong. Rome had been right about one thing—the Starkwood Saloon was fun. They had good music and I’d enjoyed the dancing.
Wasn’t such a fan of the fighting, though.
That’d been scary. Really scary. The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. Not so much that there’d been a fight, but that Rome had taken me to a place so rough that the waitresses needed baseball bats to keep the peace.
Oh, and the shotgun.
That whole shooting thing wasn’t so spiffy, either.
The fight hadn’t had anything to do with Rome, of course. And Tinker insisted that it’d come as a surprise… Specifically, she’d been surprised that it’d gotten so big. Not that there’d been a fight in the first place. I couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse. Better that there weren’t always big fights, for sure. But even small fights shouldn’t really be the norm, right?
Then there was the fact that the Reapers never left each other behind when a fight started. Did that mean they had some kind of fight-related policy, or was it just so common that Tinker knew the drill? Either way, violence didn’t seem to bother them.
Rome certainly seemed comfortable with it.
I don’t know why I found this so startling. I mean, it wasn’t like he’d lied about who he was. Somehow, I’d blocked the whole motorcycle club thing out of my mind earlier—you know, what with the sexy hotness of him to distract me—but it was an open secret that the Reapers were into some deeply bad shit. Maybe not Rome, personally, but he hadn’t hesitated to wade back into the brawl after he’d seen me safe.
Of course, right now he was busy patching someone up. That part was good, right?
All of this spun through my head as I tried to decide my next move. I liked Rome a lot, but I didn’t like having to hide behind a bar during a brawl. And being gorgeous and smelling good probably wasn’t enough to offset the whole violent gang angle he had going. I sighed. These should be deal breakers in a potential boyfriend.
But were you really expecting this to turn into a relationship?
I thought about the condoms in my purse. I hadn’t put them there, but I hadn’t taken them out, either. And I was headed back to Missoula on Sunday. I’d been thinking about sleeping with Rome, not marrying the guy. Maybe that made me a shallow slut, but it wasn’t like I’d tricked him into dry humping me on the dance floor.
Rome was gorgeous and he smelled good. Really good. The fight was over, and the rumors about the Reapers shouldn’t matter because I’d probably never see him again. Not unless I got that job and moved back and had to see him all the time… No. Don’t overthink it. You have a purse full of condoms and a hot biker who wants to get into your pants. You can still save this.
The boards of the fence started shaking.
I turned around and looked up, confused. One of the drunken cowboys was boosting himself up and over the top. Crap. They’d thrown him out, but the asshole clearly wasn’t ready to end the fight. He dropped down next to me with a thud. Our eyes met. His were bloodshot and full of rage, like an angry bull.
I raised my hands and held them open, trying to show that I was absolutely, positively not a threat to him in any way. It must’ve worked, because he turned toward the door, fists clenched.
There wasn’t even time to sigh with relief before the fence started rattling again. Seconds later, something crashed into me. I slammed into the concrete face first.
Gasping for air, I tried to figure out what’d happened.
There was something crushing me. Something really fucking heavy. My oxygen-deprived brain scrambled for an explanation. Maybe a woolly mammoth had fallen from the sky, because whatever it was that hit me felt at least that big.
Hairy, too.
The weight shifted, and slurred curses escaped its mouth. Another drunken cowboy must’ve come over the fence. Lucky me.
The brute grunted, then abruptly shoved himself up, crushing my face back into the hard concrete in the process. Pain exploded around my right eye, pain so intense that for an instant I thought he’d punched me. Except the angle wasn’t right for that, and I wasn’t entirely sure he’d even noticed that he’d landed on someone. Then he was gone, leaving me alone on the sticky concrete, face throbbing in time to my racing heart.
Oh, this sucked. This sucked the big one.
I don’t know how long I stayed there—it felt like hours—but eventually I managed to catch my breath. Rolling slowly, I turned onto my back to assess the situation.
Right.
My face hurt. A lot. Pain radiated out from my right eye in agonized waves, and when I tried opening it, everything was dark. I couldn’t see. Anything.
Oh shit. Oh fucking shit shit shit fuck shit!
Raising a hand, I felt my face gently, terrified that I’d find my eye popped like a grape. I discovered the lid was swelling up fast, but the eye seemed to be in the right spot.
Thank you sweet baby Jesus.
Except I still couldn’t see anything. Not even with my other eye. My heart started clenching again, but before full panic could set in, my common sense gave me a mental slap. No point in panicking until you have a reason. I reached up and my hand brushed something. The bottom of a table, maybe? I blinked, the faintest hint of light filtering in as my eyes adjusted.
Someone had turned off the strings of lights—that’s why it was so dark. The door to the bar had been closed, too, which left me with the stars and a crescent moon as my only light. No wonder I couldn’t see anything.
“You okay?” someone asked, shining a cell phone light into my face. I blinked and raised a hand to protect myself. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”
The light shifted, leaving a young man who stared down at me. He must’ve used a fake ID, because he looked about seventeen at most. The kid offered me a hand up, and I took it, standing up carefully to avoid whacking my head. Everything throbbed and hurt, and I had a feeling I’d be sore as hell in the morning.
Sore and likely bruised up.
Wouldn’t that just be perfect for the class reunion?
“I can’t believe what that guy did to you,” my rescuer said. He seemed skittish. Fair enough—flying attack cowboys were scary as hell. “They came out of nowhere. Are you all right?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “My face hurts a lot.”
“Yeah, it’s not looking so good,” he said bluntly. “That’s gonna be a hell of a shiner.”
“Great,” I said, offering a tight smile. “Just what I need. I don’t get how falling like that could give me a black eye, though.”
“Maybe hit something on the ground,” he suggested, shining his light down over where I’d fallen. Sure enough, there were beer bottles scattered across the concrete. I swallowed.
“Good thing those weren’t broken,” I managed to say, my mouth feeling dry. “I could’ve lost my eye.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. A minute later, I heard them pulling into the parking lot—the police were finally here. But despite the sirens, there were still shouts coming from inside the building. The cowboys must be fighting again. Why on earth did people have to be so stupid? I decided I didn’t like the Starkwood Saloon.
“I want to go home,” I said, not even realizing that I’d spoken out loud until the boy nodded. A slender girl slipped out of the darkness to stand next to him. He wrapped his arm around her, and they shared a worried look.
“Yeah, we want to go home too. But I’m not sure how we can get out of here without getting in trouble.”
“Why are you worried?” I asked. “You weren’t part of the fight.”
“I borrowed my sister’s license to get in, and his is fake,” the girl said, her voice wavering. “Now the place will be crawling with cops. We should’ve gone already, but we were afraid of getting hurt.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. That was enough to send a fresh bolt of pain through my face. Ouch. I needed to be a lot more careful. I could tell my eyelid was puffing up bad, too. It was getting harder and harder to see out of the right side. Knowing my luck, it would swell shut completely.
Fuck my life, but this sucked.
The two kids watched me hopefully, and I realized they were waiting for someone to tell them what to do.
Double fuck my life.
“Do you think we should try to climb the fence?” the girl asked, and I shook my head.
“That’ll just draw attention. There’s gotta be at least a hundred people here, and I doubt they’ll question all of us. The owner told people that they’d clean up and start the music again soon. I don’t think he expects the cops to stay long. And I guess he would know—apparently this happens here a lot. I think you should just stay out here for now.”
“This was such a stupid idea, Steph,” the kid said. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she replied, and they gave each other such sweet, cloying little smiles that I nearly threw up a little in the back of my mouth.
Of course, that might just be the Coors Light trying to escape.
“So… you think you could go inside, maybe let us know when it’s safe to leave?” the boy asked. I tried to nod, but even that hurt my face.
“Sure,” I said, sighing. “But it might take a while. Just hang tight. I’m sure things will be fine.”
I had no idea whether things would be fine or not, of course. But they looked so hopeful and appreciative, I didn’t have the heart to admit it, so I took a deep breath and started toward the door.