Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SHORT
She’s asked me to explain my road name. Sure, I don’t mind her knowing, but maybe, noticing how the wine has relaxed her, I’m going to fuck with her a little first.
“Woman,” I growl. “You giving yourself ol’ lady rights now? A man’s handle is sacred.”
What I get is a shrug. “I already know Saint got his name as he’s the very antithesis of anything saintly. So, if I know the VP’s, surely, I’m entitled to know yours.”
Her response makes me chuckle. “Saint’s is obvious.” Deciding to stop teasing her, I settle back on the recliner, kick my feet up, and, for lack of any nearby table, caress the whisky glass in my hands. “You in for a bedtime story?”
Her sweet smile and sharp rise and dip of her head confirm that she is. Then I become distracted as she curls her legs up under her, her wine glass perched on her knee. After a moment, she frowns, giving me the signal I'd better start talking before she needs to prompt me.
First, I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and bring the past into focus.
“I was a prospect then, went by my real name. Well, they knew me as Ranger. I gave no other name.” I open and narrow my eyes at her, “Before you ask, I’ll tell you a confidence, give you something of me that no one still alive has.
They hadn’t done a deep dive on my background when I’d joined.
There hadn’t been that capability fifteen years back.
I’d just stumbled across the club, liked what I saw, and kinda became a fixture.
After proving myself first as a hangaround, then as a prospect, I made my way up to a full member, and Ranger became Short.
Like with my brothers, my road name became sacrosanct, my legal name nothing more than a faded memory.
” I pause, wincing as I’m going to open myself up to ridicule, but proceeding because she deserves something after the pain I inflicted earlier.
“I was born Beauregard Ranger.” I check to make sure she’s not already laughing and add, “My parents used the shortened form.”
I’m waiting for a reaction, but there’s nothing.
Silence extends until she realises I’m expecting a response. She just utters, “Uh-huh.” As if I’ve said nothing of any consequence.
Deflated, wondering whether I’ve been wrong to worry about my first name all my life, she suddenly puts her hand over her mouth and bursts out laughing. “Beau?” She’s chuckling so hard she can barely get the words out. “Were you a bonny baby or something?”
“Mom said I was.” I glare as if daring her to contradict.
“It’s just…” She giggles again. “It’s just that Beau doesn’t really suit the giant of a bald-headed man, covered in tattoos, you’ve grown into.”
“Let’s say foresight wasn’t her strong point.” Now she’s got me laughing too.
She shakes her head as if in disbelief, then her face relaxes as she takes a sip of her wine, and then gestures for me to continue.
“I was a prospect, as I said. We were on a ride out, stopped at a bar about a couple of hours from here. We took over a table and waited for the waitress to notice us, but she was rushed off her feet. Thirsty, dusty throats made us impatient, so as the lowliest of the low, I was sent to the bar to get a tray of beers. Service was slow there as well, so I looked about me as I waited, and saw the bar was divided into two halves. It seemed we weren’t the only ones waiting to be served.
On the opposite side of the bar, there was a trio of fuckers who were getting far too loud, moaning about how long it was taking to be served.
“A lady appeared behind the bar, looking frazzled. Ignoring the loudmouths, she took my order, started pulling beers, explaining as she did so that her husband had had to go to the cellar to change the barrel, and she’d been let down by a waitress calling in sick tonight.
Valid excuses, and as long as I was going to return to the table with drinks, ones I accepted.
Only, the assholes on the other side of the bar didn’t take to it quite so kindly.
When Vella…” I pause to toss a smile her way.
“Yeah, we became on first-name terms, had to move their way to get more glasses, one fucker reached over the bar and grabbed her.”
My eyes glaze as I picture the scene. “Another brought a pool cue over and smashed it over the bar. And the third, well, he broke all the glasses she’d brought out to serve us.
Apart from the fact that my crew were desperate to wash the dust out of their throats, I didn’t take kindly to three assholes taking on one woman, who by now was struggling, trying to get out of asshole one’s hold.
” I huff. “Well, no one was getting served while they were holding the lady captive, and I wasn’t best pleased to see men laying their hands on a woman who was trying her best. I suggested they let her go so we could all get our drinks, but even as I was speaking, I could see those fuckers weren’t going to hold back.
Maybe they’d been looking to get up to mischief all along, or maybe they were already riled, and the lack of beer when they wanted it was the trigger.
I knew I was going to have to get involved. ”
“Three against one?” Bron, legs now back on the floor, is sitting on the edge of her seat, fully caught up in my story. “Didn’t your club come to help?”
“They were sitting well back on the other side of the bar, probably didn’t know what was going on.
Or maybe, they just wanted to see how a prospect could handle himself.
Whatever.” I shrug, “I knew they’d come help if I couldn’t get a grip on matters by myself.
” I chuckle softly. “It obviously wasn’t the first round those assholes had had tonight, maybe not even the second or the third.
The fuckers were belligerent, and as far as they were concerned, only up against a lone woman.
It was at that point fuckers two and three decided to help themselves to drinks while the first still held Vella prisoner.
That didn’t fly with me. I laid the first one out with just one punch.
The second, I had in a throat lock before he could blink.
I suggested how easily I could snap his neck if he didn’t call his friend off Vella. ”
“Did he let her go?” Bron asks, enraptured.
“Getting to that, woman.” I grin at her.
“No, he did not. See, I’d learned a few things from my brothers who’d served, like how to knock a guy out by applying my strength to his pressure point.
So, I did just that, and the second one went out like a light, so now there were two unconscious people on the floor.
I think the asshole left standing thought I’d killed both his companions, as both were lying still and not moving.
He released Vella and stepped back, his fists coming up in a boxing stance.
He bounced on his feet, his eyes taunting me to bring it on.
” Laughing now, I tell her, “If he hadn’t already been three sheets to the wind, it might have been more equal.
As it was, I feinted, and he punched out, completely missing me.
This time I meant business, and after my fist hit his chin, he went down, and like his companions, didn’t get back up. ”
I don’t miss her expression, which looks like I hung the moon. Then she shakes her head. “But that doesn’t explain—”
“Getting to that,” I repeat, chuckling, shooting her a look that makes her shut her mouth.
“So, I’m standing there, three unconscious bodies at my feet, my club, who’d gotten close once they’d realised they were missing some action, bellowing laughter behind me.
Now free, Vella, who hadn’t been hurt, well, maybe just her dignity from being restrained, was profusely thanking me and getting back to the business of pouring our beers.
On the house, she said, even though I told her it was no matter.
Then this man popped out of the cellar. I honestly thought he was only halfway up the stairs, but when I looked over, his feet were on the floor.
His red hair was standing on end, his chubby face blazing, hands holding a shotgun.
‘What the fuck’s going on here?’ he blasts at Vella.
‘Bert,’ she answers him. ‘These punks tried to cause trouble. This guy here sorted them out.’ Noticing the familiarity between them, I realised he was probably her husband or partner.
She was about your size, five feet and a bit of change.
Him, though, he was a fuckin’ dwarf.” I bark a laugh.
“I was looking at him, and he was staring at me. Both of us, I think, were taken by surprise. Fuck knows why, but the words started to come out of my mouth. ‘You’re a…’ I came to my senses, not wanting to insult a man in his own house, so I quickly changed what I was saying to ‘tall’.
Well, Bert, to his credit, thankfully lowered his shotgun.
He stared up at my face, then let his gaze travel the length of my body to the floor, and remarked, ‘And you’re short.
Come here, Short. Shake my hand. Seems like you’ve done us a favour.
’ Then he repeated his wife’s offer. ‘Drinks on the house.’