Without Consequence

by Victoria L. James

  “Sausage.” Laughter started, all of the others ribbing the guy. “Fuck off, assholes.”

  “Pancakes, with that cream shit and fruit. I can’t fucking stand syrup.”

  The orders kept coming, half of them shouting at me before I could even turn and see who was speaking. I scribbled as fast as I could. Oatmeal, the greasy treat, the hash-brown wonder, platter after platter. My writing just grew worse with each one. Counting out the orders and doing a mental count of the men gathered around the table, I realized there was one missing.

  “Who didn’t order?”

  I should have known it would be him before I even heard him speak up. “That would be me, Miss Ayda Hanagan.” Drew’s body rose in his seat as he leaned back to look at me with a small, one-sided grin on his face. “I can’t seem to decide what I’m in the mood for. Rough night last night. What would you recommend?”

  “We have some fantastic humble pie, or apple if you’d prefer, but if I were you, I’d go for something greasy, really soak up some of that alcohol.” I put the tip of the pen to paper and cocked my hip, my eyebrows raised as the table suddenly went silent.

  Me and my fucking mouth.

  He didn’t react at first, but it didn’t take long for that grin of his to fall and for him to narrow his eyes on me. I felt my blood chill, my own mental reprimand drowning out everything but his voice. “Tempting, but I’ll pass on the pie. I fancy something bloody. Some fresh meat.”

  I swallowed compulsively and found myself counting before responding. “We have a great T-bone steak. Steak and eggs is the chef’s specialty. He will cook the steak to order.” I didn’t add the ‘Hopefully it will sate your thirst for blood, you animal,’ I wanted to as I forced a smile at him.

  I heard some of the guys mumble under their breath on either side of me, but kept my attention solely on Drew. I had no idea what he was going to say next, but I knew all I wanted to do was disappear behind those doors and catch my breath. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking, insulting him like I had.

  “The T-bone. How much does it weigh?” he asked sharply, speaking right at me as though there was no one else in the room but us.

  “Six, eight, or twelve ounce. Your choice.”

  His hand reached up to his face again, his fingers almost massaging the side of his beard in thought. “Not enough.” Drew’s eyes dropped from mine, rolling all the way down my body as slowly as they possibly could before he eventually started to lift them again. “I’m feeling like I could eat around a hundred and twenty pounds of meat, right now.” His gaze snapped up to mine and once again, his smirk broke free. “Maybe I should go somewhere more… accommodating.”

  The rat bastard. I was only a hundred and eighteen pounds; he’d put weight on me. Not that two pounds even mattered. What bothered me the most was his need to goad me into an argument – one he would ultimately win because he had his own little audience to play for. I rocked forward with a sugary sweet smile on my lips, pulling the menu down and pointing to one of the special offers.

  “We have the big man triple special. It’s only thirty-six ounces, though. I would say if that’s not enough, you might have an iron deficiency you should probably see your doctor about.”

  The new chant of shut up inside my own head was now deafening, my ears ringing with the sound of it, while my stomach took a leap and lurched to my throat. If I hadn’t been on some MC hit list before, I was sure as hell etching my name into it now. I wasn’t just insulting him anymore. I was insulting him in front of his friends and peers, and I had the distinct feeling he was about to hand me my own ass. Verbally, here with an audience, but it was later, when I sat in my house in the dark, that I was truly worried about. He knew where I lived. He knew my one weakness in life was Tate.

  I felt the blood drain from my face as I rocked back on my heels and stumbled a few paces away from the table, my apology mumbled as I shook my head. The only words that were in my head now were a prayer: Leave Tate alone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Drew

  She was cute.

  Even when the blood was draining from her face and her eyes were widening with fright. It was almost a shame to have to be this way with her. With Maisey off the market, I was definitely looking for something that was more than just a pair of tits to get me by on a Friday night – and every other fucking night for that matter. The iron deficiency comment had made my lips twitch, and a few of the grunts and suppressed snuffles from the other guys hadn’t gone unnoticed either. But Ayda… she was too far gone to hear any of it.

  Raising a brow in her direction, I let my head tilt to one side and studied her some more. She was hard to read, but easy enough on the eye for me to spend some time at least trying. Her eyes were pretty amazing as far as color went, the blue of them popping out from her ivory skin like they were made purely to be fucking noticed. And here I was noticing.

  Slater’s foot slid into mine under the table before he cleared his throat to try and break the silence. I stayed completely still, even though his nudge had been enough to snap me out of my Ayda-inspired thoughts.

  Scowling back at her, I dropped every ounce of humor from my face and pressed my mouth into a thin line. I could feel the air around me shift as all the boys sat back slowly, while I leaned forward, bringing both hands together on the table.

  “Would you care to repeat that last part for me, Ayda?” I said carefully, keeping my voice low so only she and my fellow brothers could hear what came out of my mouth.

  She shuffled her feet, her eyes darting around the table, down to the pad in one hand, while the other, with a bandage wrapped neatly around it, lifted to push her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I was being pedantic. Did you want the steak?”

  My eyes flashed briefly at the wrapping on her hand. I tried to recall seeing it last night, but who was I kidding? Everything about last night was hazy. Closing my eyes, I only opened them when I knew they were blazing back into hers. “No. I want you to repeat what it was you said to me.”

  “I… I said that if that’s not enough, you might have an iron deficiency you should probably see your doctor about. Or something to that effect.”

  “Were you trying to be cute?”

  Switching the order book from one hand to the other, she rubbed her unbound palm on her apron in discomfort. “Sure?”

  My brows rose higher at her as my chin lowered and I let my shoulders sink. “Are you still trying to be cute?”

  Her hand moved over her stomach, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, making her look younger than her twenty-five years. “Mr. Tucker, I’m just trying to do my job. I spoke out of turn and I’m really sorry for that. If you haven’t decided, I can go and get your coffee first.”

  “No, you weren’t, sweetheart. You weren’t just trying to do your job. Doing your job would be too easy. You were trying to be smart, when in fact, what you were being was incredibly stupid. You see, there’s a damn good chance I could well have iron deficiencies, given the fact that I’ve just spent the last five years eating food that wouldn’t be served to pigs and living in the filth of a very lonely prison cell. I guess that's what you get for being responsible for the death of a man. My body isn’t quite as strong as it once was because of that very fact. There are a lot of things that might need putting right and that might take a while. And I'm not just talking physically; I'm also talking mentally. I'm more fucked up than you could even begin to imagine. The last thing I need is some jumped-up, big mouthed, apron wearing piece of short skirt telling me what I might or might not have. Do you hear what I’m saying? That’s not a good move on your part. You've pointed out my faults. You’ve made me angry. And do you know what happens when people make me angry?” I held her attention with nothing but a steely look as I paused and took a small breath inwards. “I get real fucking hungry for a lot of things. Power. Revenge. Pussy. The need to show people just who the hell they are messing with. So in trying to do your job, you’ve managed to create a whole new on
e for me. What happens from here? Who knows? All you can do now is run on back to that kitchen, think about how epically you’ve just fucked up, and grab me that little coffee you mentioned. When you get back, I’ll put my order in, and you can pray to every God you know that it doesn’t include your ass on my plate.”

  Ayda stood looking lost for a moment, her eyes dropping to her hands as though she was unable to find the words she needed in order to deal with the situation. “Fifteen coffees coming right up. I really am sorry.”

  “I don’t do apologies, Ayda. Your family seems to want to make a name for themselves by pissing me off. I'm sure you'll find a way to make that right.” My fingers curled into an even tighter ball as I cleared my throat and leaned even further down to whisper. “Or I could go find your brother and make him deal with both your mistakes for you?”

  “No. This is on me. If there’s a debt to be paid, I’ll pay it. My brother has to be left out of this. Please. I can’t lose him.” She didn’t give me a chance to respond. As distraught as she seemed to be, she turned, almost completely composed, before gliding through the tables and disappearing through the swinging doors.

  “I think she knows who you are now,” Kenny groaned from the opposite side of the table, stretching his legs and arms out like I’d just had him curled up inside my magic hat or some other torturous shit.

  I wanted to find it irritating, but I was riding off the high of seeing that flash of horror that washed across Ayda’s face. This was the stuff in my blood – that need to always be the one in the room who could turn people drip white with nothing more than a look. I’d spent too many years building up my reputation and gaining respect for it to have all just disappeared when I got back out. I might not have been sure of my place or what I stood for, but I knew one thing for certain.

  I’d always be the Drew Tucker that people feared. I’d make damn sure of it.

  “I think she does,” I huffed out through a laugh, leaning back in my seat with my hands resting on the edge of the table. “She’s going to know me a whole lot more soon, too.”

  “You’ve scared the girl now. Leave it alone,” Harry mumbled beside me.

  “How about you shut the fuck up, Rogers?” I snapped, my head rolling round to face him. “One minute you’re telling me that I’m too soft. The next you’re telling me I need to lay off. Maybe you’re the one that’s confused as fuck. Stop putting that shit on me.”

  Harry’s eyes turned to stare into mine with a new sadness that I’d not seen him wear before. Of all the things that could have made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, that look was it. “We don’t do this kind of crap in public, Drew. You know that more than anyone. That was your rule. Remember that?” he said quietly, before he slid out from his seat and started to turn on the heel of his boots in the general direction of the door.

  “Where you going?” I asked roughly. I had no idea what the fuck was happening, but his mood swings were even worse than mine.

  “I’m going outside for a smoke and some air. I don’t feel so hungry anymore.”

  I watched him as his short, stubby little body wobbled out of the diner. My tongue ran itself across the front of my teeth as I tried to work out what to say in front of the others, but there wasn’t much to say at all.

  “Ain’t no accounting for a hormonal man.” I sighed, turning back around to face the guys with a huge grin on my face. “And let’s hope Little Miss 32C hurries back on those fine, shaky little legs of hers because I am fucking starving.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ayda

  I was bent at the waist, practically hyperventilating into a paper sack when Janette found me, only moments later. From the look in her eyes, she’d seen my marvelous self-control in the face of my enemy. I hated myself for being so impulsive and, most of all, defensive. It was stupid, and I was putting, not just myself, but more importantly, Tate, in danger.

  “Please. Just… don’t,” I said, putting my hand up in shame. “I fucked up. Like royally. He’s gonna kill me in my sleep. Jesus, Jan, what the hell was I thinking?”

  “I wasn’t going to say a thing, darlin’. You look like you beat yourself up enough for the two of us,” she said with a small smile. “Look, Ayda, you ain’t doing yourself any favors out there, so how about I let Sam–”

  “No!” I looked up and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing desperately through the trembling. “Men like that loathe weakness. If I chicken out, it’s just going to make matters worse. Just let me get those coffees out there and I’ll try and get through this with my mouth shut for once.”

  “You’re shaking like a leaf, Ayda. Do you think that won’t be the first thing he notices when you go back out there?” Janette shook her head and looked at the tray with a dozen mugs all waiting for me to go. I’d attempted to work through the sudden panic attack, but had to stop. “You’re a proud girl, I understand that, but there’s nothing wrong with accepting help from the people who love you. We can get you through this.”

  “Oh, I’m going to fix it alright. I’m going to kill Tate myself. Right this problem at the root.”

  The huff of air from the kitchen, accompanied by the mumbling about more balls than brains, had me looking at Janette and shaking my head. Rusty obviously knew and had been listening to everything I’d said.

  “No, you’re not going to kill that boy, Ayda. Don’t talk like that. It was a mistake. What he did was stupid, granted, but it was from a good place.”

  “It really was, A.”

  I turned, almost violently, to find Tate at the back door of the restaurant, looking like a puppy in trouble, his tail thoroughly between his legs. I was my mother’s daughter, and that look he had struck me square in the chest. A dozen knives would have been less effective. Straightening out, I gave him a look, tipping my head to the side as I opened my arms, breathing out in relief as my little brother scooped me up into an embrace.

  Tate looked so much like an adult, it was easy to forget how young he was most of the time. He’d barely lived. All of the responsibility from our parents’ deaths had fallen on my shoulders. I hadn’t wanted him to be forced into growing up to the point where he’d resent his childhood. So I’d sheltered him. Not as much as I should have, but as much as I could. In his defense, he was normally quite mature for his age. This shit he pulled was because he was drunk and worried, and it was a volatile combination. It was out of character, and no matter how upset I was, I knew that.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I probably looked ridiculous trying to comfort someone that was quite a bit larger than I was, but I couldn’t let him go. When he was emotional like this, all I could see was that twelve-year-old boy that stood next to me at the funeral of our parents, gripping my hand as tears streamed down his cheeks. It was at that point that the overwhelming relief that he was safe seemed to just take over everything else. As long as it stayed that way, I could live with anything Drew Tucker decided to do to me.

  “It’s okay kid, but how about you lay off the liquor until you’re capable of making rational decisions while fucked up, eh?”

  His indignant grunt of laughter made me smile. Any other time I think he would have challenged me to see just who could hold their liquor better.

  “I promise. I’ll fix this.”

  “No,” I said, pulling back and slapping his chest gently with my hand. “Absolutely not. I’ll take care of this. I just need you to stay away from these guys. They’re dangerous, Tate. I mean it. I can look after myself but if you’re involved in any way…”

  Tate’s eyes widened as mine moved to the main part of the diner. Looking between Janette and me, he slid past us and to the window of the swinging door, staring out at the sea of tables, easily finding the group of bikers at the back. “They’re here?”

  “Yes, but go to school, T,” I said, moving in between him and the door, my hands planted firmly on his chest. “Nothing you can do. Just let me handle it.”

  “But–”

&
nbsp; “They’re having breakfast. That's it. Now go, before you miss second period and get barred from your game tonight.” I moved away from him to the tray where I’d started putting the dozen coffees together. My hands weren’t half as shaky now that I’d seen Tate. His appearance had fortified me enough that I knew I could get through this. “No more buts. I’m going to be home by five tonight and I want you there. Alone. So we can talk before your game. Understand me?”

  Hoisting the tray onto my shoulder, I looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer even though his eyes were still locked on the scene through the circular window.

  “Tate!”

  “Fine, I’m going. No Sloane after school.” He started toward the back door as I pushed my ass against the swinging ones.

  “And Tate?”

  “Yeah?” he asked, turning to look at me.

  “Not a word about any of this to anyone. That includes Sloane. Don’t ever forget her father is the chief of police.”

  I didn’t give him a chance to answer as I pushed through the door and plastered a confident smile on my lips, weaving my way to the tables where Drew and his friends were sitting expectantly. Sliding a mug in front of each of them, I straightened up and looked the formidable Drew Tucker in the eyes with all of the strength I could muster.

  “Did you decide what you’d like for breakfast, sir?” I asked in my most professional and genuinely polite voice. I was certain he wasn’t going to let me get away with just doing my job, but seeing Tate really had helped. He was the reason I had to keep myself in check, why I had to control my impulses around this arrogant, cocky jerk. There could be no more goading or fishing, certainly not in front of all of his friends. For now, the insults had to be kept to my inner monologue, in the hope I could keep control of myself.

  His face showed no emotion as he stared back at me. No anger. No humor. No sadness. No joy. Not a single damn thing. It was as if he was able to switch those moments of rage and amusement on and off like a light switch. Dropping his eyes back down to the table, he surprised me by being the first to look away before he gave me his order in a quick breath. “I’ll have Rusty’s meat mountain. Extra pancakes. I want the bacon crisp, the steak rare and put some eggs, hash browns and beans on the side. Make it quick.” Drew stopped to lean back in his seat again before he turned to flash me a sarcastic glare. “Please.”