Rev
I LEAVE NOTHING to chance. This is a recipe for fucking disaster, and I don’t bake. I also don’t cook, and I definitely don’t screw up. Must be the finger bang at the club, because I’ve decided Evie’s safety comes first and I’ve got my eyes and ears in place since Rocker was a no-show at the meeting he’d fucking set up to discuss our mutual problem. He needs to understand the Hard Riders aren’t backing down. And me? I need to know no one gets close to Evie. If the Colombians come knocking, I’m ready. I followed Evie to her next birthday party gig and stationed myself outside. Don’t think the Colombians are gonna smuggle themselves inside in a gift bag, but eyes on the street are a safer bet. Came in a cage, too, so I wouldn’t scare Evie’s customers off.
Bet most of her mommies wouldn’t mind a biker, though. Bet we’d be their favorite flavor of bad.
Evie’s been doing her princess thing for a good hour when Rocker pulls up and parks down the street at a discreet distance. I’m leaning against the garage door, watching the house. The prospect on the south end of the street texted me when Rocker turned into the cul-de-sac. The street’s full of cars thanks to the birthday party happening in the backyard, which makes it easier for Rocker to hide his bike.
Rocker and I don’t have much of an acquaintance, but I’ve seen him around and I recognize the colors. Plus, he looks like Evie. Got the same color eyes and hair, although after that the resemblance stops. The sunglasses don’t hide the hard-eyed gaze he directs as me, but fuck him. I get that he’s not happy about my presence here. I feel like shooting his ass, too, but that’s not how this game gets played. He nudges the glasses up and tips his head to me in greeting, taking in the balloons bobbing over the mailbox as the screams coming from the backyard assault us both. It’s like being locked in the seventh circle of hell.
The smile that curls up the corner of Rocker’s mouth doesn’t reach his eyes as he braces a boot against the edge of the sidewalk. “Heard you met my sister the other night at the club.”
“She’s real nice.” I shrug casually. We could be two guys exchanging small talk over a couple of beers. “Might be seeing her.”
I’ll respect his colors up to a point, but not gonna lie—I enjoy needling him. Plus, taking one for the club and spending time with Evie is a win-win situation for me. She’s hot as hell. Gotta hand it to Rocker, though—he keeps his cool and nods as if he isn’t imagining ripping me apart with his bare hands. Probably running me over with his bike in that fantasy, too.
“Evie’s not big on club life. She’s not part of this.”
“She is now,” I tell him. Wish it wasn’t true, but I don’t believe in denial. “When you got in bed with the Colombians, she stopped being a bystander. If you can tell me straight up that no one’s gonna come gunning for her, I’ll consider backing the hell off.”
“Shit’s complicated,” Rocker says slowly. “Not saying I don’t understand where you’re coming from, but it’s not as simple as just saying I’m out of the trade.”
I need an angle I can work. “Call it what you want, but you’re running shit in our territory and the cartel’s got their nose in our business. Step one is for you to back the hell off and stay away from what the Hard Riders claim. Step two? Pick a new career, because drug dealing isn’t a long-term proposition. If I don’t shoot you first, there’s gonna be a long line behind me.”
Rocker rolls his shoulders. Must have a knot there the size of a fucking tree, because he does it again.
“Shit’s complicated,” he repeats. “But I don’t want anything happening to Evie. That point’s nonnegotiable.”
“I’m making her my girl.” I usually take my time and think shit over, but claiming Evie feels right. “Not saying she’s my old lady just yet, but she’s with me. I’ll look out for her. You don’t come round her until you’ve got the cartel off your back. You don’t talk to her, don’t hang with her, don’t come near her.”
“She’s my sister.” Rocker crosses his arms over his chest. Evie’s a small woman, but her brother’s built like a fucking mountain man. Not that I’m intimidated, but knocking him on his ass will take time and Evie’s bound to notice. Plus, I’m pretty sure the princess party people would frown on violence. Could probably start a line of parties for boys, though—maybe I should mention it to Evie. Do some MMA fighting demonstrations. Help her branch out and shit.
“Evie’s a big girl—old enough to make her own dating choices.”
Rocker studies me. Got no idea what he sees and I wouldn’t care except Evie seems to have some inconveniently fond feelings for the fuck, which means I can’t just kill him. Pretty sure she’s gonna get pissed if I even ding him.
“True,” he says finally. “So she talks to who she wants to talk to—you don’t get to be the bouncer at the door and run me off. There’s no chance she’s gonna agree to be your old lady, and you need her okay for any other kind of relationship, you feel me?”
The unspoken or I’ll shoot you hangs in the air between us. Guess we have something in common after all.
“And you don’t get to sell your bullshit on my streets.” I’ll see his threat with one of my own.
“I’d like to say I don’t give a shit about what my sister gets up to with you,” he says slowly. “But that wouldn’t be true. She’s a good woman and she deserves nothing but the best. If that’s what you are, I’d be happy to slap a bow on your ass.”
I flip him the bird. “I look best in blue.”
“You hurt her, and that blue will be a coffin lining, you feel me?”
“Right back at you.”
“In fact, keep your hands off her entirely. Keep a couple of feet between you and I won’t come back and kill you.”
We’re still staring at each other, and I’m calculating the chances we go at each other, when the first kids and moms flood out of the house waving plastic bags full of sparkly shit and paper plates of cupcakes. Princess Number One rocks a purple number, while her princess companion sports yellow. The rainbow effect is blinding. The mom stops dead when she spots Rocker and me, sweeping her girls behind her. Bet she’s reaching for her phone.
Rocker must come to the same conclusion that I do, because he flicks me a salute and saunters back down the street. Seconds later, he’s off on his hog and the princesses are staring after him open-mouthed. Bet Evie kicks his ass for bringing a bike anywhere near her party.
“Does he work with you?” Momma Princess isn’t ready to let go of either her suspicions or her cell phone. Ten dollars says she’s got 9 and 1 pushed, with that last digit cranked up and ready to go.
“Boy parties,” I tell her.
“We could do that for my party,” the purple princess stage whispers, tugging on her momma. “Because girls can do whatever boys do.”
Momma Princess blinks, but it’s not like she can deny logic like that. Kids see the bikes and think fun ride—the parents are the ones who jump straight to felonies and jailbait.
“Let me find a card,” I say with a straight face.
“I’ve got a cupcake,” the mini-me announces and holds her plate up for my inspection. “You can have it as a down payment.”
Kid’s gonna be a master negotiator someday. I take the cupcake while it’s still on offer and before she starts laying down terms. Chocolate with chocolate frosting—fucking awesome.
“Can you come to my party next week?” Mini-me proves she’s smart, going on the attack as soon as my mouth is full of her cupcake. Momma Princess shoots me a nervous look and beats a hasty retreat. Naturally, this is when Evie comes flouncing out of the party looking ready to bust my balls. Bet she heard the bike—which means I’m blaming Rocker. Fucker.