Page 32 of Iron Hearts
I kicked off my boots on the tile and padded across the living room carpet, sweeping up the remote off the coffee table, and switching on the seventy-five-inch television.
“– Horse Saloon is closed tonight and until further notice after two rival motorcycle gangs decided to fight it out which resulted in a shooting last night,” the male television anchor said. “We’re going live on scene with Cocoa Abrams.”
“Yes, hi, David. We’re here live in Ormond Beach, where the investigation is still ongoing into the incident that took place here last night that sent multiple people to the hospital and left at least one dead.”
I dropped onto the couch and watched, looking past the reporter into the background, although for what, I had no idea. Maybe a glimpse of Rarity? Which was stupid. I had to bet she was nowhere near the place.
“It all started when two rival groups of bikers showed up to party and drink at the well-known biker bar that’s popular here during bike week. Things were civil to begin with, according to management, but then things took a sudden turn for the worse…”
The scene cut to a guy named Charlie, who looked upset as he stood hands on his hips to talk to the reporter and give his side of the story.
He threw both the Scorpions and the Bastards under the proverbial bus, which I expected. Talkin’ how we showed up in numbers flouting the ‘no colors’rule of the bar. He wasn’t necessarilywrongin how he framed things up. About how his security staff was outnumbered, and how everything had seemed to start out well enough.
Still, he didn’t paint a flattering picture – which big fuckin’ surprise there.
His loyalty was to keeping his ass employed, after all.
I watched the news in a bit of a daze, fucking tired as hell, and waiting for any indication we might be somehow fucked. But all they said was that the fight and subsequent shooting led to multiple felony arrests and that charges may still be pending for some individuals involved.
I wasn’t worried about us.
Renegade had it handled. Shadow was probably already doing his thing. It was all above my paygrade from here.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Rarity…
The boys were in rare form today. Justwildin’. It made for a long one, for sure. My grandparents got home and managed to take them off my hands long enough to talk to the detectives who had come calling, and I stuck to my story likeglue.
I couldn’t help but feel like they smelled bullshit, but I guess things were close enough to Gemma’s account that they were willing to overlook a few inconsistencies between us.
Honestly, I’d stuck to the truth as much as possible except for a few slightly fudged details – but bleh, they were going to believe what they were going to believe. There was nothing I could do about it.
When they left, I was vaguely worried, but I had dinner to make and more shit to do where the boys and housework was concerned.
By the time Mom had gotten home and dinner was hitting the table, the boys were in such a foul temper that it was all-hands-on-deck to get them to finish their dinner. It was bedtime early since they didn’t want to behave.
Thankfully, Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa took the boys and left me to clean up the kitchen in some peace.
I was listening to the boys scream, holler, and generally throw tantrums throughout the entire process and really should have seen it for the red flags that it was – butnope.
Boy, would I live to regret that later on, but for now, I just tuned them out as best I could and let my thoughts drift while I rinsed dishes and put them up in the dishwasher.
I let my thoughts drift, and of course, they drifted right on over to Striker. He hadn’t been far from my thoughts all day, and I wondered, vaguely, if I would ever see him again. I also wondered if I should stay at the Iron Horse. There was supposed to be a staff meeting the next day, and I was going. My mom wasnotthrilled, in the slightest, but we weren’t talking about it. If anything, we’d carefully danced around the subject. Especially considering –“Boys!That isenough!”
My mother’s stern voice reverberated up the hallway from the hall around the corner where she was in the boys’ room trying to get them to stop whatever it was they were or weren’t doing. I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“Do I need to come in there and bust somebody’s butt!?” I called, which Mom and I almostneverdid. The mere threat of a spanking usually did the trick.
“No!” I heard a chorus of small boy voices call back.
“I will!” I called back, and waited, but there was no more shouting or fussing.
I finished loading the dishwasher, added a soap tab, and closed it up.
I sighed and hit the buttons on the front to get it going and went around the corner just as Grandma, Grandpa, and Mom filed out of the boys’ room and shut the door behind them.
“We’re going to bed,” my grandmother said and she looked like her patience had beentried– woo boy.
