Foolish Riot (Riot MC Book 5) Page 7

  I chuckled. “At this point, Forrest, I’m thinkin’ it’s you who won’t want to grab a bite with me.”

  “Why would you say that?” he asked before I could continue.

  “My face isn’t as swollen, but it’s still many different shades of green, yellow and purple. I’ve been keepin’ a low profile, but even so, I still get lots of looks everywhere I go. Not the kind of attention a guy like you wants to have, and for that matter, makeup isn’t doing much to hide the ugly these days.”

  After a moment, Forrest spoke. “You got plenty of looks before, Trixie, and you could never be ugly no matter how hard some thugs try. You like Mexican? We could go to Salsa’s sometime after work?”

  With a silent chuckle, I shook my head. “Just as friends, Forrest. If you’re cool with that, then how could I say no?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Trixie

  Two weeks after my attack, I had worked my first eight-hour shift at the store. Forrest and I were meeting for a late lunch at Salsa’s. It wasn’t my go-to Mexican restaurant, but it was in the same plaza as Walmart. We met when my shift ended at three in the afternoon. Becky had moved me to day-side for the next few weeks. Even though my body clock had adjusted, I was still so physically exhausted from being on my feet all day that I was more than ready to get home.

  Forrest had the day off, so he was dressed in casual clothes. Funny thing about working somewhere with uniforms, some people could hide behind their uniforms. I never would have pegged Forrest for being a hipster, and the day I borrowed his kayak he had dark stubble, but not a mustache. Today, he had a full-blown mustache.

  I hoped the smile I gave him wasn’t overly bright and therefore fake-looking. If I was going to get beyond Roll and my thoughts of a knight in shining leather, it was going to take some work.

  When the waiter came to take our drink orders, I ordered a margarita, but Forrest ordered a water. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but the look Forrest shot at me as I specified frozen with no salt was hard for me to miss. That wasn’t necessarily a bad sign, but it raised some questions in my mind. If he was a teetotaler, good on ‘im, but no way would I ever be on the wagon. It was a Friday and I didn’t have to be back in the store for another forty-eight hours; it was time to let my hair down.

  “So, good day, today?” Forrest asked as he unwrapped his cutlery.

  I shrugged. “I suppose. Another day, another dollar, right?”

  Truth be told, the days ran together for me. It was one of the reasons, besides the money and better benefits, why I wanted to advance into management. I could be wrong, but I figured no way my days would run together in management, because God knew they saw things clerks and stockers never had to deal with.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Forrest started, but stopped because the waiter arrived with our beverages.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  I nodded, but Forrest spoke before me. “We’re going to have the Fajita Nachos with two plates. Thank you.”

  Forrest added a curt nod to the server and before I could get a word in edgewise, the man took off. My mouth was hanging open.

  It hit me then, he wasn’t a teetotaler, he was a tightwad.

  I pulled in a big breath for patience and said as gently as I could, “Is there a reason you didn’t let me get my order in with the waiter?”

  Forrest looked at me like I asked if the sun was blue. “It’s after three in the afternoon. I don’t need a full-sized meal, and neither do you. Besides, the nachos they serve here are like the ones at the Ale House, but not near as expensive. They could feed six people easy.”

  I exhaled low and slow. Anger and an unknown feeling were creeping up on me. Who was this guy to tell me I didn’t need a full-sized meal? Two weeks ago, I would’ve let him have a big piece of my mind. Then I realized I was trying too hard. Trying to be nice, trying to like this guy and trying to listen to what he had to say. With crystal clarity I understood the phrase my momma always used when I was young and annoying. He was “trying my patience.” This entire meal was trying for me.

  I didn’t like his mustache. I didn’t want to be fussy, but a goatee…yes; a full beard…yes; a damn mustache only? Not even a little bit. My thoughts were derailed when Rage strolled up to our table. His light brown hair was pulled up in a man-bun, and he was clean-shaven for once. I looked up at him, and to my dismay, his arm shot out in a gesture for me to scoot over. My goal was to cut ties with Riot, but I knew better than to ignore him.

  I moved over, and Rage sat right down beside me. “Who’re you?” he demanded.

  A stunned Forrest looked at him with his mouth hanging open, so Rage turned to me. “Who’s this schmuck, Trix?”

  “He’s not—” I started, but the insult pulled Forrest out of his stupor and he spoke over me.

  “Schmuck? I’m not a —”

  Rage shot him a pointed look. “You blew your shot. So I asked Trixie who you are. Not you. Don’t know if this is a date or some shit, but whether it is or isn’t, you always let a lady speak first. Especially if she was addressed, and not you.”

  That diatribe sent a curl of feeling through my body and I almost lamented my plan to get out of the Riot MC family. Almost.

  “He’s a co-worker. We’re just friends,” I said, trying to cut the mounting tension from Rage.

  A glint of mischief lit Forrest’s eyes and I knew whatever he said next wouldn’t be good. “Trixie. Who’s he?”

  I ignored his question and turned to Rage. “You can go, now. Actually, how’d you know I was here, anyway?”

  Rage gave me a look, and I realized he must have been watching me.

  I shook my head. “You can stop doing that shit.”

  He shook his head, and exited the booth. Before he left, he turned to Forrest. “You treat her right.”

  I shook my head, but I still noticed Rage took a seat at the bar where he had a full view of me. That was irritating. Actually the entire scene he caused was damn irritating. Where did these guys get off interrupting things? This was not a date, and never would become a full-fledged date, but Rage didn’t know that.

  I focused on Forrest. “To answer your question, he’s my…big brother.”

  Forrest spun his straw in his water cup. “He’s kinda rough.”

  I wanted to laugh because he didn’t know the half of it. Then he looked at me, and it didn’t take a psychic to see he thought I looked ‘kinda rough’ too. God, not only was he a hipster, but he was an asshole to boot.

  ***

  After the look Forrest gave me, I made quick work of my margarita. If they had offered to-go cups, I would’ve taken one gladly. That wasn’t an option, and I wasn’t in the mood for nachos even if they were topped with fajita meat. What I knew was that I had to get the hell out of here soon. My tongue was in danger of being bitten straight through, even before Rage crashed the ‘party.’

  The last gulp of my frozen cocktail was in my mouth and I pulled my wallet out of my purse. After I swallowed, I threw a ten on the table. “Been nice chatting with you Forrest. Glad we did this as just friends. You have a great Friday night. I’m not in the mood for nachos, so you enjoy them. See you ‘round.”

  “But, I can’t eat all of them,” he spluttered.

  I was standing at the edge of the booth. “Get a box for ‘em, man.”

  “They’ll be soggy.”

  With a shrug I said, “That’s life. See ya.”

  Scurrying out of the restaurant, I went two doors down to a sub shop known for their cheesesteaks. A Philly cheesesteak wasn’t what I was in the mood for either, but like I told Forrest, ‘that’s life.’ I sat down with my sandwich and chili-cheese-flavored Fritos, wishing the place served beer. Talk about a bad start to my weekend.

  Except, I thought that a little too soon, because the chair in front of me was whipped out and Roll sat down.

  I looked up to the ceiling tiles and back to Roll. “Really?” I asked, without hiding the incredulous disbelief in
my voice.

  His lips tipped up like he wanted to smile. “Same to you, Trix. ‘Really?’ A guy who can’t even move the weight of a bench, let alone bench any weight. Really? That’s what you’re gonna shoot for? Really?”

  I stared at him long and hard. “It wasn’t even a date.”

  “You were never stupid, babe. Don’t start now.”

  I held his gaze, knowing he wanted to poke the bear that was my temper. If I rose to the bait, then he’d win. His days for winning where I was concerned were done.

  The silence stretched between us and I took a big bite of my sandwich. My stomach felt like a bottomless pit. Forrest’s words about a full meal at this time of day came back to me, and I realized he might’ve been insulting my figure.

  “Rage ain’t gonna quit,” Roll declared.

  I swallowed the bite of sandwich as quickly as I could. “Would if you tell him to.”

  “Not doin’ that either.”

  I put my sandwich down forcefully. “Why the hell not?”

  “Need someone keepin’ an eye on you until this shit’s handled. You’re mine. Always will be.”

  My eyes narrowed. “No, I’m not. Not any more.”

  His next words made me feel like I hadn’t even spoken. “We got some new recruits. You need to come by, show them how you’re the ‘Venom Vixen.’”

  I didn’t care about the Riot members any more. Okay, that wasn’t true. I couldn’t let myself care about the Riot members any more.

  “Listen, Rolland, it’s time I used my venom the way I always should have, to protect myself, because God knows you Riot boys are all capable of takin’ care of your own damn selves, the women be damned.”

  Roll’s eyes narrowed at me. “You’re not takin’ yourself outta the Riot. Can’t believe it’s so damn easy for you to just give us up.”

  “Can’t believe it was so easy for you to let me be your fuckin’ scapegoat.”

  He tore his hand through his long brown hair. “I didn’t let you be any damn thing—”

  “There’s the fuckin’ problem, dude.”

  He turned his head, and I could see his jaw clench in his profile. I didn’t care if I pissed him off. These days, I found I didn’t care about much of anything.

  His head turned back and his beautiful brown eyes settled on me. “Come back to the clubhouse with me, baby.”

  Well, that was a rare thing. Roll measured his words, even if he argued to the contrary. The pauses and deliberate cadence he used when speaking told of his caution when speaking. Not that I was counting, but he’d called me ‘baby’ all of eight times, and seven of those eight were when we were both naked. So they didn’t count, naturally.

  I wrapped up my sandwich so I could take it home. I had a few Natty Lights left, and that would be better than the damn Sierra Mist I was drinking. “Not happenin’. I hope you’ve settled your shit with Heathen and the Devil Lancers, but I’m out.”

  His eyes bulged at me. “Goddamnit Trixie, don’t you dare walk out that door.”

  “Or what?” I goaded.

  His jaw clenched and he shook his head. If he responded further, I didn’t know because I walked out the door. I found the depth of my foolishness had no end because when I got to the door of my car, a firm hand gripped my bicep. Before I could overreact, and let’s face it, if you’ve been attacked in a parking lot, you’re a little prone to overreacting, Roll’s voice was in my ear. “I’m done watchin’ your backside sway, Trixie. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great fuckin’ view and makes me hard every damn time I see it, but I tell you not to walk out the door, you don’t walk out the fuckin’ door.”

  If any words could give me pause, those were the ones to do it. My lungs froze and I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that they were full of air. This was a side of Roll I had never heard before. Gently he turned me to face him, and took my sandwich out of my hand, putting it on the roof of my car. My lungs may have froze, but my brain did not. Seeing as how this side of Roll was unheard of, I decided it could not be believed.

  My lip curled before I said, “You’re not in a position to tell me what to fuckin’ do. In fact, you never fuckin’ were. Like you said to me, ‘Don’t start now.’”

  My grin was the epitome of bitchy at the end of my statement because I loved throwing his damn words back at him. His eyes flared and I thought he’d back off, but the next thing I knew his goatee scraped my face as he kissed me.

  Fuck!

  No way could I let him continue this kiss. No question, I was a biker bitch to my core, but when Roll put his lips on mine, it undid me. My mind took flight and that was the worst thing I could do at this point. I managed to yank my face free of the liplock and glared at him.

  “Don’t do that again, mister.”

  “Why? You love when I kiss you.” His voice was husky, which normally turned me on, but I ignored it.

  “Not anymore,” I whispered.

  Roll sighed. “Gettin’ sick and tired of hearin’ those two words from you.”

  I dug my keys out of my pocket and bleeped the locks. “That’s the case, stop talkin’ to me. You won’t hear ‘em.”

  “That isn’t happenin’, woman.” There was a pause and I tried to move so I could open my door, but Roll blocked me. “Why’d you color your hair?”

  I shook my head as I thought about my answer. “It’s been time for a change. In fact, it was long overdue.”

  His lips pursed for a second. “Know what you’re tryin’ to say, and that shit ain’t quite right. We’re gonna work this out. I’ll follow you home.”

  My plan was to drop by my father’s place. Roll had no idea where my Dad lived, and a plan started to form in the back of my mind. I just hoped I could pull off the right evasive maneuvers with my Venom Vixen to get away from Roll.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Roll

  Roll knew Trixie had given in too easily to him. He stopped behind a pick-up truck at the third red light and watched her Camaro shoot down the highway. If she thought she was going to give him the slip, she was going to find out he had been up to much more than just club business in the past two weeks, while they had been away from one another.

  He had wanted to be the one keeping close tabs on her, but there was no way he could do that until the business with Heathen was resolved. Calling like he did after she’d left the clubhouse was a desperate move, and Rage was a solid brother who let him know it in no uncertain terms. Knowing Rage was right, he talked him into tailing her on his behalf.

  “You aren’t gonna do this yourself why?” Rage asked.

  “You already told me I was acting desperate. Besides, I’ll be drawing the Devil Lancers right to her.”

  “Seems you did that already. Sounds more like you don’t want to be a sitting duck.”

  Anger bubbled inside Roll. He did not like being called a coward, and that statement was perilously close to being just that. “Gettin’ her stubborn ass to see reason is gonna be like movin’ a mountain. So, I’ll be takin’ the first steps to making that happen.”

  Volt approached them during this conversation. “I spoke to the VP of the Devil Lancers. Heathen’s not around. Don’t know if you’ve had contact with your sister lately, but hopefully she’s safe. The Lancers don’t want trouble with the rest of us. Wanted to send you a message.”

  Roll arched an eyebrow, but Rage growled the question on the tip of his tongue. “You’re gonna let it stand at that? Those fuckers can rain down blows on any fuckin’ woman they want?”

  “Fuck no,” Volt said. “I didn’t agree to shit, but we’re waiting until I get to talk to Heathen.”

  Volt turned on his boot and left. Rage and Roll stewed in silent anger.

  That evening while Rage kept an eye on Trixie, Roll started climbing the mountain by paying Trixie’s father a visit.

  When the traffic light turned green, Roll took a few reckless chances to get ahead of the traffic. His gut told him she was headed to her father’s home and he had every i
ntention of beating her there.

  Trixie

  I pulled into the rutty dirt driveway in my father’s yard feeling pretty good about my driving capabilities. Had I not been driving so fast, I might’ve actually seen the irritated look on Roll’s face when he caught all the red lights I narrowly avoided. Focusing on where to park my car, I thought my eyes were deceiving me.

  “You must be shitting me,” I said to the windshield.

  Leaning against his bike, with his arms crossed and one extremely annoying smirk on his face, Roll watched me park the car.

  I got out of the car and slammed the door. “What in the —”

  “Knew you were up to somethin’” he said, approaching me.

  I crossed my arms. “How’d you know where—”

  His eyes blazed at me. “You think there’s anything I don’t know about you?”

  I scoffed. “Yeah, I do. But let’s stay focused. So, it takes a group beating for you to figure shit out?”

  “This ain’t the time or place. Told you we’re working this out.”

  “Patricka! What’re you doin’ out there with Sam? He needs to get on home, now. You gotta get in here, and your Uncle Derrick’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “What the fuck?” Roll whisper-growled. I had no idea a man could blend a whisper with a growl, but he’d done it.

  I gave Roll a harsh glare. “You need to go.”

  “He doesn’t remember who I am,” he whispered.

  I didn’t have time to figure out what Roll was whispering about. Dad often got confused because of his medications. He needed to know I’d colored my hair and it wasn’t the year my momma passed away.

  I walked up to my father. “Hey, Dad. Give me a hug. I would’ve come by last week but my hair was dyed and the fumes were pretty strong.”

  He smiled at me and I noticed the look in his eyes changed as his gaze shifted behind me. It was the same change that told me he was back in the here-and-now, but there was more. His eyes lit up in a way I hadn’t seen since I was a girl. I turned to see Roll standing behind me, but heard my father speak. “About time you brought Homer by, your damn self.”