3. Cassidy
CASSIDY
The bartender shows up at eleven, a server right behind him, and Crash spends forty minutes pretending he has work to do that requires standing at the opposite end of the bar from me.
At noon, I close the ledger and put my pen down loud enough for him to hear it.
“Time to pay up, VP.”
He looks at the bartender. The bartender suddenly has glasses to polish. The whole club knows about the deal—nothing stays quiet in that building longer than an hour.
He grabs his wallet. “Alright, tacos it is.”
He walks around the bar, and I follow him to the door, where he holds it open for me.
Outside, he straddles the bike and waits.
“Problem?”
“No problem.” Six minutes to Rosa’s. I can behave for six minutes.
Six minutes pressed against him, my thighs bracketing his. Easy.
He doesn’t offer instructions. He knows I grew up on the back of my dad’s bike, then Saber’s bike.
I know where to put my feet. Now the only thing left to figure out is my hands.
I settle behind him and rest them on his hips. Light. Polite.
He reaches down, takes my wrists, and pulls my arms around his waist until I’m flush against his back.
“Hold on tight,” he says, and starts the engine before I can respond.
That’s a good thing, because right now, anything I say would be embarrassing.
During the ride to Rosa’s, my mind is not on tacos. All I can think about is the feelings of his hard muscles against me, how he smells like leather and soap, and how every gear shift moves his body into mine. And then I think about how he’d react if I moved my hands down—just two inches.
I don’t do it. But for six whole minutes, I think about it.
Rosa’s is half full, all locals. Heads turn when we walk in, and then turn away fast, the way they do for anyone wearing a Hellborn Kings patch. We take two stools at the counter.
“Order whatever you want,” he says. “You’ve already warned me about the consequences.”
“I’m going to get three steak tacos and a lemonade.” I fold my menu and lock my gaze on his. “It feels good to give me what I want, doesn’t it?”
He drags his lower lip through his teeth, but we’re interrupted.
The waitress who comes over is pretty—dark hair, red lips, and a shirt unbuttoned one more than it needs to be. She doesn’t look at me once.
“Crash.” She smiles and leans on the counter, giving him the full view. “Been a minute. What are you having?”
He doesn’t return her smile. “Ask her first.”
“Three steak tacos and a lemonade.”
The waitress writes it down without looking at me. Then she turns back to Crash like I’ve stopped existing.
“And you?”
“A chicken enchilada.”
“That’s it?” She tilts toward him, dropping her voice. “You usually want a lot more than that.”
There it is. She might as well have hung a banner.
I study the salsa caddy. Of course they’ve slept together. He’s slept with half the county.
He doesn’t grin. “That’s it.”
He slides both menus across the counter and gives her a look that ends the conversation. A look that I’ve never once seen him aim at a woman.
She blinks. Her eyes flick to me for the first time—down, up, and dismissing.
“Sure thing.” She’s sweet again, and her hand grazes his forearm on the way to collecting the menus. “Holler if you change your mind. You know I take care of you.”
“Just the food.”
She clenches her teeth, then straightens and walks away.
I turn the salsa caddy a quarter turn. “She seems nice.”
“Don’t.”
I cough, holding back a laugh. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re saying it with your whole face.”
I prop my chin on my hand. “My face is minding its own business.”
He picks up his water and drinks instead of responding.
The tacos arrive. A different server brings them.
“Interesting,” I say.
“Eat your food.”
I eat my food. It’s good, and I tell him so.
He relaxes, and for twenty minutes we’re just us.
He tells me about the night Jinx got patched and how Viper was stabbed, but that led him to meeting his Old Lady.
He asks about California and listens to the answers, asks follow-ups, and asks how my roommate’s wedding went.
I didn’t tell him about the wedding. Saber must have.
Which means he was listening when my brother talked about me.
He remembers everything.
He stands. “Bathroom. Don’t try to pay while I’m gone. Wouldn’t want you telling Saber I didn’t buy you tacos.”
“No promises.”
I’m still smiling at my plate when a stool scrapes on my other side a minute later.
“Now what is a pretty little thing like you doing all alone?”
He’s big, sunburned, and day-drunk at noon on a weekday. His arm is already on the counter, crowding into my space.
“I’m not alone.”
His hand lands on my thigh. “Don’t see anybody.”
It stays there less than two seconds.
I don’t see Crash come back. One moment, there’s a sweaty hand on my leg, and the next, Crash has him by the collar and slams him into the counter, plates jumping.
Crash hits him once, short and brutal. The guy folds onto the floor.
The restaurant goes quiet. Nobody stands up. Nobody reaches for a phone. The cook leans into the pass-through window, takes in the patch on Crash’s back, and goes back to his grill.
Crash crouches over him. “Nobody fucking touches her.”
This is a side of Crash I’ve never seen, and he’s not using the voice that tells stories at the bar.
The drunk holds both hands up, blood running from his nose. “Okay. Okay, man. My apologies. I didn’t know she belonged to you.”
“She doesn’t belong—”
It comes out fast. His fist is still cocked, but he doesn’t finish the sentence.
Crash stands up instead. Pulls cash from his wallet, drops it on the counter without counting it, and gives the drunk one more look—long enough that the man scoots himself backward into the legs of an empty table.
Then he looks at me, and there’s no charm in it anywhere. None of the grin.
“We’re going back to Bones and Bucks,” he says. “Where guys know they don’t fucking touch you.”
I should argue. I’m twenty-two and independent. I don’t need to be marched out of a taco place like a child.
I follow him out, anyway.
On the bike, I don’t hesitate. I wrap my arms around his waist before he can say a word, flatten my palms against his stomach, and his breath moves under my hands.
He doesn’t say anything the whole ride back.
Neither do I. I just hold on tighter than the ride requires, and he lets me.