Chapter Twenty-Three
Tempi
Swift was parked at the end of the bar like a bouncer with a resting murder face. Arms crossed, boots planted wide, and eyes scanning the empty room like someone might pop out from the ice machine and start throwing punches.
He hadn't said much since we got here. Just nodded when I handed him a mug of coffee and grunted something that I think was “thanks.”
Since then, he stood post like a silent, muscle-bound statue.
Britta, meanwhile, was the exact opposite.
She was perched on a stool near the register, one leg swinging, sipping soda from a mason jar and staring at me like I was about to burst into flames.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on,”
she said, “or do I need to shake it out of you like a dusty rug?”
I sighed and wiped down the bar for the third time.
“It’s nothing.”
“Tempi.”
I froze at the tone. She didn’t use that voice often. That voice was all business. Serious. Protective.
I set the cloth down and turned toward her.
“There was another brick.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Through the window. At the clubhouse.”
I think part of the reason why Twister had been so annoyed was because they had just fixed the damn window.
Her jar hit the bar a little harder than she meant to set it. “When?”
“Last night.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I’m fine,”
I added quickly.
“Don’t do that.”
She stood and walked toward me, brows furrowed.
“Don’t downplay it. Don’t act like it’s fine. Are you hurt?”
I hesitated.
“A little.”
Britta’s hands clenched at her sides. “Tempi.”
“I’m okay. I just caught some glass.”
“Where?”
she demanded.
I rolled up my sleeve and showed her the edge of the bandage on my arm.
She hissed.
“Son of a bitch.”
“It’s not deep,”
I said.
“Twister cleaned it up, patched it.”
She paced away a few steps, then turned around.
“Do you know how lucky you are? That could’ve hit your face. Or your neck. Or your—”
“I know,”
I said, softer.
She closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose.
“I don’t want you getting caught up in this,”
I added.
“I don’t want you in the crosshairs.”
“Stop right there,”
Britta snapped.
“I’m already in this, Tempi. We run a bar together. I’m your best friend. You think I’m gonna sit on my hands while people start chucking bricks at the people you care about?”
I blinked at her.
“Yeah,”
she said, voice quieter now.
“I see it. I know this thing with Twister isn’t just some fun fling. He matters to you. Which means this isn’t just about the club anymore. It’s about you. And if you think I’m backing away from that, you don’t know me at all.”
Emotion clogged my throat.
Swift shifted at the end of the bar, but still said nothing. Silent backup.
“I don’t even know how to feel,”
I admitted.
“It’s all happening so fast. One minute I’m dancing to Halestorm, the next I’m getting bandaged up after some maniac tries to make a point with a brick.”
“Did they leave a note?”
I nodded.
“Yeah. It said, ‘This is your last chance. Leave or it all burns.’”
Britta’s eyes widened.
“Okay, that’s some movie-villain bullshit right there. What the hell.”
I shrugged.
“Twister has guys trying to track it down. Someone named The Ledger might be involved. It’s... messy.”
“No kidding.”
I looked down at my hands.
“I didn’t expect any of this when he walked into the bar that day.”
Britta’s tone softened.
“Nobody ever expects it. The moment something, or someone, shakes your whole world up, it never comes with a warning label.”
Swift finally spoke, his voice deep and calm.
“He’s not gonna let anything happen to her.”
I looked up in surprise.
He met my eyes.
“He’d die before he let anyone touch her again.”
Britta studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
“Okay then.”
Silence settled for a beat.
Then Britta straightened and grabbed her drink.
“Well, if someone tries to throw a brick through this bar, I’m grabbing the bat from the back office and breaking knees.”
Swift smirked. It was subtle, but it was there.
“I mean it,”
Britta added. “Try me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and the tightness in my chest eased just a little.
The world was still uncertain, and danger hadn’t backed down. But I wasn’t alone in it. Not anymore.