Chapter Three #2
Then I thought about Hammer’s fingers digging into the meat of my arm, about Mike and Royce, and I knew Lamar’s couch wasn’t a fortress. It was a coffin with throw pillows. Whoever came for me wouldn’t care that a fifty-something diner owner was in the way. They’d just go through him.
I couldn’t do that to Lamar.
So I stepped off the curb.
The hundred-dollar bill was pressing into my thigh with every step.
Down payment, Lamar had called it. I didn’t know what I was being paid for.
I didn’t know what Preacher was buying. All I knew was my feet were carrying me across the road toward a pickup that contained a man with a toothpick and a Sergeant at Arms patch and that, somewhere on the other side of this afternoon, a man with frozen-whiskey eyes was waiting for me to arrive.
The passenger door cracked open before I reached it. Crowbar leaned across the bench seat, pushed it the rest of the way wide, and jerked his chin at me without removing the toothpick from his mouth.
“Up, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” I got into the truck, careful not to slam the door the way I wanted to.
“Touchy.”
The cab smelled like leather and, faintly, like the cigarettes Preacher had been tapping against my table hours ago.
Crowbar shifted into drive without looking at me, that damn toothpick rolling over his lips.
“Seat belt,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. You ever see a body that’s gone through a windshield?” He glanced at me, sadness shimmering behind his blue eyes. There and gone. “Besides, Prez would kill me if I didn’t deliver you intact.”
I clicked the seat belt across my chest, and the truck eased away from the curb so smoothly I barely felt it move.
In the side mirror, Lamar was still standing on the stoop, one hand shading his eyes against the sun.
He didn’t wave. He just watched until we turned the corner and the diner slid out of frame.
Then there was only the road and the silver rings on Crowbar’s left hand where it rested on the wheel.
I cleared my throat. “Where’re we going?”
“Where do you think?” He winked at me. I scowled. Crowbar laughed.
“Your garage.” I refused to say clubhouse. That would only remind me of Hammer, who I still wasn’t sure was actually alive. Preacher could’ve been lying to me. The only truth I was certain of was that Hammer hadn’t been playing around. The threat was real. Everything else was debatable.
“Smart guy.”
“It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.”
“Then why’d you ask?” Crowbar turned those baby blues on me. I had a feeling he used them as a weapon. Admittedly, they were gorgeous. Not that I’d tell him. Guy looked like he could either seduce you or kill you. I didn’t want either.
“Why did you answer?” I was terrified of the Howlers but refused to look weak in front of them.
Like they didn’t see Hammer punch you sideways.
Shut up, brain.
Crowbar grinned, his toothpick resting to one side of his mouth. “You got fire in you.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a challenge. “More like insanity. I did get into a stranger’s truck after all.”
My heart climbed into my throat when an evil smile appeared. “Now you’re wondering if I’m gonna offer you some candy?”
“You got any?” I relaxed slightly when I noticed the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. My guard hadn’t lowered completely, but my muscles were no longer tense. It could’ve been that twinkle or the buttery-soft seat that was more comfortable than my own bed.
Crowbar jerked his chin toward the glovebox. “Grab the bag of caramel chews. We’ll split them.” He rubbed a hand over his flat stomach, his rings clinking together. “Should’ve asked you to bring me some food when you got off work. Been under an engine most of the day.”
“You guys are actual mechanics?” I popped open the glove box, freezing at the sight of a huge gun. The barrel was aimed right at me.
“Shit. My bad. Forgot I tossed Betsy in there.” He reached across the console and pulled “Betsy” out, tucking it under his seat. “What did you think, the garage was a prop?”
Even though I heard him talking, I couldn’t stop seeing that barrel. It only reminded me of how close I’d come to dying in that alley.
Crowbar pulled to the curb and placed the truck in Park. “Get the bag, princess.”
I couldn’t. So much for not showing fear in front of them.
I wasn’t sure I would be able to move even if the truck caught fire.
I could’ve died yesterday. That was the first time I’d ever seen a gun.
First time I’d had a brush with death. And Hammer had shoved it into my cheek like he’d actually wanted to fire it.
“Fuck.” Crowbar reached past me, grabbed the clear bag of caramels, then unwrapped one and held it to my lips. “Sugar’ll help ease up your crash. Open.”
My lips parted, even though I didn’t remember moving them.
“Chew.” He unwrapped another one, sunlight glinting off his rings. “You that scared of us?”
I nodded then shook my head, forcing my jaw to move. Caramel flooded my mouth, then I tasted the creamy center. I wasn’t sure about easing my crash, but the candy reminded me that I’d been too nervous to eat today. Now I was starving, parting my lips faster for the next piece.
“You’re giving me mixed signals, princess.” Crowbar unwrapped a third piece. “Tell me what’s causing the crash. The gun?”
“Don’t call me princess.” I snatched the piece of candy from him, popping it into my mouth and hating that he’d been right. Slowly, my body relaxed, again. I needed an entire case of sugary treats around these guys. “Yes, you scare me. All of you. There, I admitted it.”
Crowbar studied me. “Nothin’ wrong with being scared, Trent. Fear saves your life.”
“Almost took it yesterday,” I murmured, the caramel suddenly losing its flavor. Rolling the window down, I tossed it.
“Preacher wasn’t gonna shoot you,” Crowbar said quietly, like he was afraid I’d shut down again. “He’s smart, knew who was to blame.”
I waved my hand at the windshield. “Can we just go?”
He narrowed his eyes, making him appear ten times more frightening. “What did that piece of shit do to you?”
We both knew he was talking about Hammer.
A breeze filtered through the window, ruffling my hair and cooling my skin. “Just acted like a thug.” I pressed my hands between my knees to stop them from shaking. “Loud, obnoxious, bad breath.”
“Not as bad as Tag’s.” Crowbar smirked. “Burned my nose hairs from ten feet away.”
My lips trembled from fighting a smile. “I suggested he see a dentist.”
“You did not.” Crowbar’s brows shot up. “Bold move, princ—Trent.”
The correction stunned me, but I didn’t call it out.
“He pulled my hair like a pussy.” My scalp still hurt from where his nails had dug in, but the banter was helping ground me. My shoulders relaxed, and my spine became less rigid.
“I’ll be sure to thank him next time I see him.” Crowbar pulled back into traffic, heading toward County Road 21. Buildings blurred past us, people living their version of normal.
The truck eased to a stop at a red light.
Without warning, a small gold projectile flew at my face.
My hand snapped up, fingers closing around the caramel wrapper.
Crowbar’s lips quirked up at one corner.
Two could play that game. I flicked the candy back toward him, but before it had even left my fingertips completely, his hand had already snatched it from the air between us.
“How did you do that?” My jaw dropped. “Nobody can move that fast.”
He wiggled his brows. “I have many talents.”
“You’re apparently part snake.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “I didn’t mean a snake, like a shady guy. I don’t even know you, and who am I to judge? I was referring to your reflexes, not your character!”
“Chill.” Crowbar drove through the green light. “I knew what you meant.”
Even so, I kept my mouth shut the rest of our drive. I didn’t need to make enemies with the men who…were going to do what? I still had no clue what Preacher had meant when he’d said I was his problem now or why he’d left a hundred bucks on my table. But I would soon find out.