“One hour left,” the bouncer Bulldog says as he walks over, looking bored out of his mind. “Want to play?”
“Sure,” I say as he sits down at the bar. “Don’t slap so hard this time. You almost broke my hand last week. It still hurts.”
I rub my knuckles as he pulls out a deck of cards. “Sorry about that,” he says as he starts dealing on the bar. “I just get so excited when I’m about to win.”
“Just remember you have giant hands that can crush mine,” I say with a laugh. Bulldog loves playing Speed when there’s nothing else to do. I’m the only one who can beat him, so he’s always challenging me to a game.
I watch him as he focuses on the cards. He’s a good guy too. It’s crazy how such a big rough man can be so gentle with the women in his life. Not one of the girls has anything bad to say about Bulldog. He’s kicked the asses of dozens of men who have gotten out of line with grabby hands. All the waitresses here appreciate him.
“Oh, shit!” Bulldog says with a gasp when I get on a roll and start slamming down cards. “Stop. You’re going too fast!”
I’m about to respond when the familiar roar of motorcycles rips into the bar.
We both turn to look at the open door.
“Were the guys on a run?” I ask as my skin starts to prickle.
Bulldog’s face hardens as he shakes his head. “No.”
He gets up off the barstool as my stomach flutters with nerves. It’s hard to be scared next to this giant of a man. He’s enormous, but that does sound like a lot of bikes.
“Stay here,” he grunts as he heads to the door to see what’s up.
My eyes are on his massive back as he disappears through the door. A few seconds later, there’s shouting and the sound of someone getting slammed against the wall.
“No,” I gasp as I look around at the drunk bikers left. None of them are getting up. They’ve all drunk themselves into a stupor.
I rush over to Buzz who’s sleeping on a table and start shaking him.
“What?” he mumbles, not even opening his eyes.
“Wake up, Buzz!” I shout into his ear. “I think there’s trouble.”
He’s dead to the world, so I rush over to the next guy. I’m trying to shake him awake when Bulldog comes crashing into the bar with three guys on him. Bulldog’s got one arm around the neck of one of them and is holding the cut of another. The third is throwing elbows into his face.
“Stop!” I scream as his nose busts open with blood pouring everywhere.
I freeze as about a dozen and a half bikers pour into the place. They’re not Heartland boys. I don’t recognize any of them and I wouldn’t know who they are if they weren’t branded all over in their club’s logo.
The Outlaws.
It’s a rival Motorcycle Club from a few towns over and they do not get along with my boys. I overheard that Saint had killed one of their guys named Roach a few weeks back. So, this must be their retaliation.
They start hooting and hollering as they begin to trash the place and beat up the drunk bikers who are only now starting to wake up. A chair gets thrown into the jukebox and the music stops. A table gets flipped over. Someone launches a chair at the booze and bottles explode.
I scream as broken glass and whiskey rain down on me.
Finally, my feet start moving.
I rush into the back as Buzz slams a fist into a biker’s jaw. Two more of The Outlaws jump on him from behind.
“Come on!” T-Bone says when he sees me coming. He grabs me with one hand and pulls me behind him. He’s holding a butcher’s knife, but that won’t do much against a swarm of cruel muscular men a few decades younger than him.
I glance through the hole in the wall where T-Bone hands us the food and my heart goes cold.
They’re everywhere.
The Outlaws kick the door down to the Heartlands’ President Troy Conley’s office and flood inside as Bulldog finally gets brought down to his knees with a broken chair to his back.
These bastards caught the Heartlands off-guard and unaware and they’re making them pay for their sloppiness.
Three Outlaws come into the kitchen and grin when they see me and the old man huddled in the corner.
“Get the fuck out of here,” T-Bone warns as he grips the knife with wrinkled knuckles. “Or, I’ll gut the lot of you and serve you in tomorrow’s meatloaf.”
The three bikers laugh as they advance on us. One grabs a couple of French Fries from the bin and eats them as he approaches.
They’re so big. We don’t stand a chance.
But my boys, even the cook, never back down.
T-Bone swings the knife at the closest one, but he’s too slow. The Outlaw grabs his wrist and lands a hard punch on his nose. The knife falls to the floor with a clatter.
I lunge for it, but a backhand comes out of nowhere and knocks me onto my ass. Pain shoots through my brain as my eyes water and my hands shake.
I’ve never been hit before and it just pisses me off. I reach for the knife again, but the asshole kicks it under the stove.
My watery eyes narrow on the name stitched onto his leather cut. Gunner. President.
The three guys kick T-Bone as he huddles on the ground, slamming their boots into his body. I lunge onto him to protect him and squeeze my eyes shut as I wait for the boots to hit me, but they never come.
Someone in the bar is hollering that it’s time to go.
The three grab whatever
