“Name’s Twister,” he said.“President of the Saint’s Outlaws.We just set up shop down the street.And you are?”
I’d heard the rumble of bikes for three straight days.Seen the crew moving boxes, hauling tools, slapping stickers and skulls onto every flat surface they could find.I’d even spotted one of them peeing behind the dumpster in broad daylight.
Saint’s Outlaws weren’t subtle.
“I’m Tempi, and I’ve noticed you guys,” I said.“It’s been like living next to a Harley dealership on fire.”
That grin on his face widened.“Just came to introduce myself.Figured it was polite.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, not buying it for a second.“Let me guess, you want to ‘build a relationship’ with the local businesses.”
He tilted his head.“Something like that.”
“Well, I’m not interested.”
“You don’t even know what I’m offering.”
“I don’t need to.I’ve been running this bar long enough to know when someone walks in talking with their chest that they’re usually trying to bulldoze something.”This was, in fact, not my first rodeo.
Twister chuckled and leaned in like he enjoyed the resistance.“You always this feisty with your neighbors?”
“Only the ones who think they can waltz in and try to bulldoze me.”
“Feisty and observant,” he said.“Hell of a combo.But I’m not trying to bulldoze you.I just want to be… neighborly.”
I sighed.“Look.You do your thing, I’ll do mine.You keep your boys out of my bar if they can’t hold their liquor, and we won’t have any problems.”
Twister looked around again, like he was mapping escape routes.Or maybe planning a renovation.“Hell of a place you got here.”
“Thanks,” I replied.“It stays open because I know when to say no.”
“I can respect that,” he said.
It should’ve sounded like a compliment, but it felt more like a warning.The way his eyes locked on mine, sharp and unflinching, I got the sense he wasn’t used to being told no.
And maybe didn’t hear it very often.
I stepped back from the bar and tossed the rag onto the counter.“You done now, President Twister?”
“For now,” he said and turned toward the door.“But I’ll be back.”
“Don’t do me any favors.”
He paused, hand on the door, and gave me a once-over that wasn’t disrespectful but sure as hell wasn’t apologetic either.“I wasn’t offering.”
The bell dinged as he walked out, his heavy boots echoed against the tile.
And just like that, the temperature in the bar went up five degrees.
I stood there longer than I should’ve, with my heart thumping harder than I wanted to admit.Britta poked her head out from the back hallway with her brows raised.“Who the hell was that?”
“Trouble,” I muttered.
She leaned on the doorframe.“Trouble in the hot, dangerous way or trouble in the someone’s-gonna-break-our-windows way?”
“Could be both.”
“Well,” Britta said with a grin, “if you need someone to hold your earrings, I’m your girl.”
