The Edge Of Courage

of something other than the spitfire sitting next to him, but all he came up with were more questions about her. Why had she shut him down when she discovered his name? What had his bastard of a father done to her to cause such a reaction?

Val smiled as a waitress set a margarita in front of him. He paid her with a hundred dollar bill and asked her to keep drinks coming for him and his friends. The woman on his lap snuggled tighter while he spoke to the waitress. Val felt his body heating up. She was all curves-big breasts, narrow waist, plump ass. He didn’t care that her assets were medically enhanced. The very fact that she wanted to look sexy was sexy. He grinned up at her as she rubbed those assets against his chest.

God, he loved women. They were delectably different from men, soft and cuddly and sweet smelling. It didn’t matter if they were thin or heavy, small- or big-breasted, young or older. All of them equally fascinated him. They were truly a gift to mankind, and he intended to spend his life showing his appreciation.

She wiggled on his lap. His dick responded in kind. She giggled. “You know you have a girl’s name.” He drew her down for a kiss, putting her mouth to a different use than talking. He savored the sweet, chemical flavor of her lipstick, imagining the sticky, pink imprints she’d leave on his body as she kissed her way down to his cock.

“Do I kiss like a girl?” he asked, his voice rough.

“I don’t know. I’ve never kissed a girl,” she said, wrapping both arms about his neck.

“You’re lying.” More wiggling. Christ, he was going to lose it. Right here.

“Well, there was one time…”

“Did you like it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He gripped her hair, positioning her face where he wanted it. “Yes, I would.” He tilted his head and took her mouth with a force and authority that was all male. While she was distracted with the kiss, he lowered his hand to her thigh, bared for his consumption by the short skirt she wore. He stroked her skin from her knee up until his fingers brushed the hem of her skirt.

She didn’t protest. She drew back from the kiss and watched his hand on her leg. He lifted the margarita glass and held it to her lips, then turned the glass and sipped where she’d sipped.

“How is it that such a beautiful woman is here alone?” he asked, resuming his slow stroking.

She made a lovely pout. “We weren’t alone when we came here, but they took off a while ago. I’m so glad you showed up.”

He pulled her ass a little closer. “Just left you, did they?” He made another pass up her leg, his hand now fully beneath her skirt. Would she let him get her off here? Now? Would she quietly peak, her pleasure a secret between the two of them? Or would she go all wild on him with a screaming orgasm? He couldn’t decide which he’d prefer. Both, maybe.

Her phone beeped with an incoming text message. She huffed, but got off his lap to answer it. A quick look at the text had her sending a dark glare toward the woman at the end of the table. “Not funny, Eddie.”

She sat back down on Val’s lap, this time facing the other way-effectively blocking his advances since he was right-handed. He leaned in to kiss her neck and caught sight of the tattoo she wore below her left ear. A crescent moon and star.

I had them branded so we’d know them when we saw them, Rocco had said during the briefing two days ago. Val pressed his lips to the mark of his enemy and sent a surreptitious look around the room, searching for men with the same mark.

Ty looked between Eddie and the floozy warming Val’s lap, wondering what she’d texted. Probably a warning about the audience they were attracting. Man, he couldn’t even live vicariously. He decided to get up and move around. “I’m going to get another Coke. Want one?” he asked the girl next to him. Their waitress was being plenty attentive, thanks to Val, but his leg was stiffening up-he wanted to stretch it out.

Eddie kept her eyes on her phone. “No.”

“Hungry?” he asked, wishing he could get her to look at him one more time.

She did-and caught the sight of his grin. Her eyes narrowed. “No, thank you.”

Ty grabbed his cane and walked through the crush to the bar. He shouldered his way in and leaned an elbow on the counter. The man currently waiting for his drink was one of the many gangbangers clustered about the place. Ty’s gaze wandered over his tats, curious to see if he knew any of the images the guy sported. He followed an unimaginative hate message up the guy’s neck, where it terminated with a crescent moon and star.

A cold feeling started at Ty’s neck and worked its way down his spine. He sent a look around the crowded bar area, seeing the same mark on several men. The man at the bar must have felt his curiosity, for he turned and glared at Ty.

“Nice ink,” Ty tapped his neck. “What does it mean?”

The man’s brows lowered. “Why the fuck are you talking to me?”

Ty laughed. “Just makin’ nice conversation. Got some social anxiety there, big guy?” The gangbanger grunted for an answer and reached for Ty’s throat with his free hand-the other still held his money and was resting on the bar. Ty grabbed two of his fingers and bent them backward as he pushed the hand away. The man should have caved instantly to avoid the pain, but he kept up his forward momentum. He either didn’t feel the pain or didn’t need those two fingers.

Before the situation escalated, the barkeep slammed a baseball bat down on the counter. He looked at the skinhead. “You know the rules. No fighting.” The immediate area around the two of them got quiet, but Ty doubted anyone beyond a few feet from them heard the bang. He eased his hold on the guy’s hand, ready for anything. The man took his drink and paid, glaring a warning at Ty before he stepped away.

Ty looked at the frustrated bartender. “They part of your regular clientele?”

“No. Once a month or so, they come into town and take the place over. I made an agreement with their leader, Pete Conlin, to keep the place open longer when they’re here in exchange for no property destruction. Still, it’s a battle every time.” He eyed Ty. “You’re with the Feds who came into town earlier this week.” Ty didn’t bother correcting him. The less he knew about Owen’s team, the better. The bartender shook his head, grinning as he rubbed the counter down. “You picked a helluva night to come here.”

“Why’s that?”

“They aren’t normal biker dudes. They’re WKBers and they hate government employees.”

Ty took his drink and returned to the table. He tapped Kit on the shoulder. “We’ve got a problem. And not a three girls and six guys kind of problem.”

“What is it?” Kit asked as he stood up next to Ty.

“It’s a six guys and fifty WKBers kind of problem.”

Kit mouthed a curse as he glanced around at the clientele, his gaze snagging on man after man bearing the mark of Ghalib Halim. Val caught his look, and Ty could tell he’d figured out the problem as well. Kelan noticed the loaded glances. He hit Greer and Angel on the shoulders. They both stood up.

“I’m sorry to cut our time short, sweetheart, but it looks as if we’re heading out.” Val stood up, his arm still around the woman he’d been fondling.

She arched against him like a cat stretching, her hands kneading the contours of his chest. “Why do you have to go? Stay and keep me company.”

As Val leaned in for a good-bye kiss, the woman was yanked out of his arms. A fist connected hard with his jaw instead. Stunned by the abrupt change in his circumstances, Val barely had time to focus on the bearded, bald man in front of him before Kelan intercepted the next blow. His friend grabbed the skinhead’s throat in a hold so tight, the man could neither breathe nor pull away. It stopped the others who’d come forward in a close circle.

“Take it down a notch.” Kelan glared at the guy. “I’m going to let you go so we can have some nice convo about what’s got you freaked out.” The guy held his hands up. Kelan eased his hold.

“The bastard was touching my woman. I’ll be doing my talking with this-” He pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and popped the blade. He swiped at Kelan. It was the only strike he managed to make. Kelan hit his throat with the edge of his hand, then kicked out his knees.

When he turned to the next man, Kelan realized all his bros were likewise engaged. The space was too tight for them to take on more than a couple of men each. It was hard to tell how many they were going to have to fight, but the odds were definitely not in their favor.

Ty and Kit were fighting back-to-back, dodging chairs. For every man they put down, another took his place. Ty