“I’m Ash,” I said, stepping up beside Idrissa. “Oscar’s my uncle, and I’m staying with him for a while. Can we get something to drink?”
Teddy blinked like he hadn’t been expecting me to just spill all my details like that. He recovered, nodding. “Sure. What’ll you have?” he asked.
“You like margaritas?” Idrissa asked me.
“Um, I can’t,” I said. “I’m only nineteen—”
“Three margaritas,” Idrissa told him, cutting me off. “On the rocks.”
“Coming up.” Teddy went to work, making the drinks.
“Come on,” Idrissa said, and I fell into step behind her with Isaac bringing up the rear.
She wove a path around the tables to an empty booth at the back. A couple of dartboards were mounted to the wall beside us, and on the other side of those was a jukebox. An actual, honest-to-goodness jukebox.
What year was it in here, anyway?
Idrissa slid into the booth, her back to the wall, and I took the seat opposite her. Isaac sat next to me and immediately slouched down so he could prop his feet on the seat beside his sister.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I knew the stares hadn’t abated even with only the back of my head for them to admire. Thankfully, the conversations had resumed, at least. And the card game was back in full swing. Someone bet their pet snake, and I tuned them out. Gambling was not something I wanted to be around ever again.
“Well, that went better than expected,” Isaac said.
Better?
“What did you expect?” I asked.
The twins shared a look.
“Tell me,” I hissed.
Before they could answer, Teddy appeared with our drinks. He set them in front of us and said, “Your tab’s been paid. Compliments of a friend at the bar.”
“Which friend?” Idrissa asked, eyes narrowing.
Teddy just winked and left.
Behind me, something must have caught her eye because Idrissa muttered some curse words that impressed me with their creativity. I heard the name “Vinny” mingled in amongst the worst of it and decided not to ask.
“Okay, I have questions,” I said.
“Hit me,” Isaac said.
“First, no one cards here?” I asked.
Isaac grinned. “We’re sort of like VIPs around here. No carding for us.”
“Why are you VIPs?” I asked.
“Our family was one of the founding members of the Falls,” Isaac said. “And our dad is on city council. It makes us a big deal.”
“Isaac, don’t fill her head with your delusions,” Idrissa said. She looked at me. “We are not VIP. Or not any more than the others. Teddy doesn’t card us because he doesn’t card anyone.”
I shook my head. A town official whose perks included illegal drinking for his teens? A bartender who endorsed it? “Um, that only gives me more questions.”
“I’m full of answers,” Isaac said.
“More like full of yourself,” Idrissa snorted.
Isaac shot her a glare, but she was too busy staring people down at the bar to notice.
“Why is everyone staring at me?” I asked.
“You’re new and shiny,” Isaac said.
“Is it really so strange to get visitors here?”
“Remember the whole ‘outsiders’ issue?” Isaac said in a tone that felt more like an answer than a question.
“This entire town has serious trust issues,” I muttered, which, for some reason, made Isaac hoot with laughter.
The noise drew more stares, and Idrissa looked ready to spit nails at everyone in here.
“Why did you bring me here then?” I asked. “I mean, if they were going to treat me like a window display at a porn shop, why bother?”
Idrissa’s mouth curved. “A porn shop, huh? Well, we don’t have one of those, so I wouldn’t know. But you wanted to see the Falls so here it is.”
“This is the real Ridley Falls?” I asked, echoing her earlier words. “A dive bar in the middle of nowhere?”
“This is where the locals hang out,” she said. “When we’re not burning it down at a bonfire or house party, I mean. Besides, free drinks.”
She motioned to my untouched margarita.
“I don’t drink,” I said quietly.
“Uh-oh. Something tells me we fucked up,” Isaac said.
“No, it’s fine. I just…my dad drank. So,” I shrugged. “I just don’t.”
I expected them to look uncomfortable. Change the subject. Most people didn’t pry once they realized they’d scraped a wound. But Idrissa looked right at me and nodded.
“Is that who gave you those bruises?” she asked.
“I…” I raised my fingers and pressed them gingerly to the bruise I thought I’d done a decent job of covering up. “No. My dad would never hurt me.”
I stopped, unsure about telling them the rest.
But Isaac looked like he wasn’t going to give it up. And they weren’t nosy like the rest of the town seemed to be. This felt like they actually gave a shit.
“My dad made some bad choices,” I said carefully. “And one of those choices took it out on me.”
Isaac’s expression tightened, and he looked genuinely angry.
Idrissa’s hands fisted on top of the table. “I hope they got what was coming to them for knocking you around like that.”
I shrugged, unwilling to give more than that.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” she said, and I was grateful she wasn’t going to press it about the bruises. “It’s hard losing people we love.”
My eyes tingled with moisture as I remembered the funeral I’d been forced to attend via internet rather than in person.
“I didn’t realize you knew,” I said. “You know, about him…”
I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “dying,” so I just let it hang there. Idrissa held my gaze, and I swallowed hard at the emotion that rose in my throat. One thing, though. Idrissa was direct. I appreciated that. No one else here had been.
She had the grace to look sympathetic as she said, “Everyone here knows pretty much everything about everyone else.”
“Everything?”
My expression must have conveyed my distaste because she added, “Unfortunately, there are no secrets in small towns. Look, if you don’t want people in this town to know something, don’t tell anyone.”
“Except us,” Isaac put in. He leaned closer. “We can keep a secret.”
His grin was infectious, and despite my grief and uncertainty, I found myself believing him.
“The truth is my dad drank too much,” I said. “It consumed his whole life, and watching him kind of turned me off the whole alcohol thing. It’s also what led to the other stuff like the gambling and, you know, the assholes who did this.” I pointed to my face.
“Shit,” Isaac said. “And where did we bring you to? A bar. We suck, Ash. We suck fat donkey—”
“Okay, whoa,” Idrissa said and made a disgusted face. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
“You don’t suck,” I assured him.
“Your secrets are safe with us,” Isaac vowed. He held up two fingers like a peace sign. “Scout’s honor.”
“Isaac, that’s not— You know what, never mind.” Idrissa pinched the bridge of her nose before looking back at me with an exasperated expression.
I found myself smiling. “I’m not sure why you guys decided to be nice to me, but thanks. I needed it more than you know.”
“Whoa, Dris, that’s the first time you’ve ever been called nice.” Isaac jerked his thumb at me. “We clearly have her fooled.”
I laughed, but Idrissa only looked more serious. She leaned forward across the table and lowered her voice.
“Ash, you should know…people in the Falls are assholes,” she said. Empathy mixed with concern as she watched me soak in her words. “They don’t like outsiders, and they aren’t nice about conveying that.”
“Believe me, I’v
e experienced that,” I said.
“I know you think so,” she said, which sent a ripple of unease down my spine. “But it only gets worse from here.”
I opened my mouth to ask how she could possibly know that, but Isaac cut me off.
“Speaking of which, who do you think paid for these?” Isaac asked, nodding at our drinks.
His was already halfway empty, so I slid my full one toward him.
“It was either Vinny or Silas, and they’re both pissing me off,” Idrissa said, looking back toward the bar again.
Her warning had created a somber, weighted mood that had already shifted with the change in conversation. I couldn’t stop thinking about her words: it only gets worse from here.
“Why does it matter?” I asked. “A free drink is a nice thing, right?”
“No one in this town is nice,” she said. “Remember what I said, Ash. No one in this town is selfless. If they do a nice thing, it’s because they want something from you.”
Did she mean like carrying my groceries?
Before I could point out the hypocrisy, someone yelled from across the bar, and by the time I turned to look, two men at a small table in the corner had shoved their chairs aside and jumped up, rushing at one another. They each wore a leather vest with the image of a wolf stamped in white on the back. Before I could make out the words printed around it, the two men collided, chest, fists, even foreheads, all crashing together in an all-out brawl.
Chairs and tables were upended. Glass fell, shattering as their beers and pitchers hit the floor. The card game went flying, and the players all yelled as they jumped back.
I froze, watching it all unfold and feeling a little surreal.
The other customers jumped up too, crowding around them, yelling, cheering. Most of them also wore vests with the wolf printed on the back. I waited for them to wade in and pull apart the drunken brawlers, but no one did. Some cash was waved around, exchanging hands as bets were called out about the predicted winner and loser.
A couple of others even joined the fight, making it two on two. Then four on four. The rest of the patrons yelled their encouragement to whatever side they’d decided to root for.
Neither one of the twins moved a muscle.
If anything, they looked annoyed. Maybe even bored.
“Gordon’s such a dumbass,” Idrissa said between sips of her drink.
“Silas has been waiting for an excuse to shove his fist into Gordon’s mouth,” Isaac said. “It was only a matter of when and where.”
“You mean when.” Idrissa rolled her eyes. “The where is easy when it comes to Gordon.”
Isaac snorted his agreement.
“Isn’t anyone going to stop them?” I asked, my anxiety spiking as one of the men picked up a chair and smashed it over another’s head. The man stumbled, careening toward us before he went sprawling across the dirty floor where his body stopped beside our table. I looked down and spotted the logo printed on the back of his leather vest.
A white wolf’s head was tipped up in a howl. Underneath were the words “Lone Wolf MC.” I stared at the image, feeling a slow sort of dread working its way into my skin. I’d seen it in one other place in my life, and finding it here, now, was not something I’d been prepared for.
I swallowed hard, heart hammering, and looked over to find Isaac giving me a strange look. “It’s okay,” he said. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
I nodded, blinking the fear from my eyes and the wolf’s image from my mind. Later. This wasn’t the place to lose my shit.
Forcing my attention back to the scene unfolding, I scanned the room.
Beyond where the unconscious man had fallen, Teddy was hopping around, scooping up glasses and trying to save what serving ware he could. It would have been comical if not for the actual blood flowing from the fighters’ various busted noses and lips.
The guy with the chair walked over to where the unconscious biker lay. He looked from the guy on the floor to us, his expression a little glassy and a lot unhinged.
“Vinny, back off,” Isaac warned.
“Make me,” the guy slurred.
Isaac groaned. “Paper, rock, scissors?” he asked his twin.
Idrissa sighed, sliding toward the edge of the booth. “Nah, I got this one.”
She stood up and walked over to the guy who held the chair by its leg. He straightened when he saw her coming, his eyes blazing with a fury that didn’t dim at the sight of the gorgeous redhead stalking his way.
“Vinny, I swear to God, how many times do I have to explain the chairs are off-limits?” she said.
“Don’t start with me, woman,” he growled and barely had time to finish his words before Idrissa’s fist slammed into his face, sending him to his knees.
My jaw fell open.
Idrissa waited until he swayed once and then planted her boot against his chest and shoved. Hard.
Vinny went flying backward, his head slamming into the bar with a crack that was probably his skull.
I gripped the table, shocked.
Vinny slid down a little farther and then stopped moving completely, his chin sagging as he passed out.
My shock turned to horror.
I hopped out of the booth and rushed over to where Vinny sat slouched on the floor. His back was to the bar, and his head had lolled forward. I grabbed his face, propping it up with my hand to find his eyes were closed. I fumbled for a pulse and found it, sagging in relief.
“Holy shit.” I looked up at where Idrissa now stood behind me with her arms crossed. “You knocked him out.”
She shrugged. “He was damaging Bo’s property. And he’s been warned.”
“But you… What if he…” I trailed off, unable to form the words as worry took over. I felt gingerly against the back of his head, my fingers coming away with sticky blood. Panic spiked, and my breath caught.
I stared down at the blood on my hands.
“He’s bleeding,” I said, my voice cracking.
Looking past the blood, I caught sight of the wolf emblem printed on Vinny’s jacket. The howl it was making in the illustration echoed inside my head. The room tilted, and everything drifted a little. Suddenly, the fighting felt far away. Or maybe it was me who’d drifted. I was no longer here. This wasn’t really happening. No blood. No barfights. I was safe. Dad was alive.
I—
“Ash!”
I looked up and leaned away just in time to avoid a serving tray flying through the air. It crashed into the bar right where I’d just been crouched and clattered to the ground at my feet.
I looked down at it, chest heaving, then up again. At the far end of the bar, the fight had stopped. That meant the tray hadn’t been an accident. There was no collateral damage. Someone had done it on purpose.
My eyes landed on an angry face glaring at me, and I pushed to my feet.
A guy around my age stood watching me, arms folded. I’d seen him earlier at the table with the poker game. His brown hair hung past his ears, and his muscular arms flexed as he pumped his fists open and closed, open and closed. His expression hardened, and just like with Vinny and Idrissa, he didn’t back down at the sight of me.
As I faced him, my grief and fear and all of the turmoil of the last few days collided. Something inside me snapped, and I forgot to be afraid of what he could do to me or concerned that his muscles were bigger than my kneecaps. He’d tried to hurt me. On purpose. And I was done cowering to the assholes in this town. In any town.
“You threw that tray at me on purpose,” I said, anger replacing the fear that had paralyzed me before.
“So what?” he challenged. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, and the words were so repetitive and irritating by now that I rolled my eyes.
“You’re right about that. This place seems to have one rule: only assholes allowed. You fit right in.”
He snarled and took a step toward me. I planted my feet, ready for a fight. If he swung, I wasn’t going to walk away. I
t took a special kind of asshole to hit a female, but this guy seemed special in all the wrong ways, so I wasn’t expecting anything but the worst.
Apparently, his friends expected it too because the others who’d been at the table with him finally took notice and crowded in closer behind him. Fantastic. He had a full baseball team’s worth of support in his bullying.
“Whoa.” Isaac stepped between us, his palm hovering just above the guy’s chest. “Silas. What the fuck.”
It wasn’t a question or a request. Isaac’s voice held steel now, a tone I didn’t even know he was capable of. But the happy-go-lucky Isaac was gone. This version of him wasn’t one I recognized.
“Isaac, get the fuck out of my way,” Silas growled.
“Not happening. Take a walk.”
Idrissa stepped up beside me, her arms folded as she regarded Silas with a cool, murderous gaze. “Listen to my brother, Silas. Get some air. Before someone chokes it from your lungs.”
“Try it,” Silas said, shoving against Isaac a little as he lurched toward Idrissa.
Idrissa simply smiled.
But Isaac returned the shove, and Silas was forced to take a step backward. I noted the wolf emblazoned on his vest then glanced to his friends. Some of them had a vest to match. Shit. Fear spiked through me. Isaac and Idrissa couldn’t take on an entire biker gang alone, no matter how well Idrissa’s punches landed.
“Last warning,” Isaac said.
Someone else walked up behind Silas and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s get out of here.”
“She’s not one of us,” Silas said without taking his eyes off me.
“Damn straight she’s not,” called a girl standing behind Silas. She crossed her arms and glared back at me.
“Tiffany, eat shit,” Idrissa said.
Tiffany gave her the finger.
My heart hammered against my chest. What the hell was so bad about being from out of town? These people were like a dog with a bone.
The newcomer stepped around Silas to look at me, and I finally saw his face for the first time. Short blonde hair done in a side-swept wave that reminded me of old, classic Hollywood. He wore a leather jacket that really cemented the whole James Dean vibe right down to his distressed jeans and scuffed ankle boots. His smile was the kind that melted hearts—or, at least, I suspected it would if he ever flashed it fully.
Wolf Cursed (Lone Wolf Series Book 1) Page 7