Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
The three-hour ride gave me plenty of time to think about the situation with Melanie, though. I’d fucked it up. Fucked it up big-time and was almost certainly making it worse by going to Ellensburg instead of dealing with her right now. I couldn’t just leave Gage hanging, though . . . and much as Mel meant to me, talking to her now or talking to her tomorrow wasn’t a matter of life and death.
Gage might not have that luxury.
When I finally pulled into Ellensburg, I found a string of messages on my phone between me, Gage, and Picnic.
GAGE: Downtown at the Banner Bank Tavern. They have a beer garden on one of the side streets—closed to traffic. Marsh and his crew are drunk as fuck and he’s tweaking. Paranoid. Got six cops watching us. Worried that Marsh will blow it
PICNIC: Across the street. Don’t want to come over unless we need to. Think it might set Marsh off?
GAGE: Hang back for now. Painter you anywhere near yet?
PICNIC: He’s behind us, should be here soon.
GAGE: K
That last message was ten minutes ago, so things must still be under control . . . or else they’d fallen to utter shit and they were too busy fighting to message me. Either way, I needed to get my ass over there ASAP.
Ellensburg was a relatively small town, so it wasn’t that hard to find the bar. Took a while to get there because the streets were choked with what felt like a thousand hot rods. Had to leave my bike parked down the street, too—didn’t much like that. Although to be fair, the bike was probably the least of my worries today.
Walking toward the bar, I saw Pic and the others across the street, looking over a line of custom choppers. They stood out from the crowd, of course—a motorcycle club in full colors always did—but they were keeping as low-key as possible. Pic caught my eye, but we didn’t acknowledge each other. Then I reached the old Banner Bank building, all brick and cut stone from the town’s earliest days. The bar made the most of the historic atmosphere, done up to look like an old-time saloon. I passed all the way through and out the side door to the beer garden, a fenced-off area they’d set up on the street.
Loud music played and a few people were dancing in the center of the tables. A girl caught my eye, jumping up and down, waving at me.
Sadie.
Fucking great.
“Levi!” she shouted, running to meet me. Just past her I saw Talia hanging all over Gage. Marsh and the others were off to one side, taking up more than their fair share of tables. At least they were somewhat isolated . . . A quick glance showed me that a group of cops was gathered just outside the fenced area, watching the Nighthawks closely. More seemed to be inside, although they weren’t in uniform. They gave off that law enforcement vibe, though, and I saw the way they clocked me the instant I walked in.
Not only was Marsh drunk and tweaking, the fucker was doing it at a cop bar.
Christ.
“Good to see you,” I told Sadie, pulling her in for a hug. She tried to kiss me, but I managed to turn my head just enough that she’d miss my lips. Even if it wasn’t for Mel, I didn’t think I could touch her—not after seeing her barf like a fountain. “Gage said he’d be here, suggested I come over to join you guys.”
“Where have you been?” she asked, frowning. “You just disappeared that night.”
“Jail,” I said shortly. Might as well stick to the truth. “Violated the terms of my parole, so they locked me up to teach me a lesson.”
She reached up, rubbing a hand up and down my chest.
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Levi!” Gage shouted, waving me over. Thank fuck. I sauntered over to him, Sadie in tow. He welcomed me with a hug, taking the opportunity to whisper a warning. “Shit’s ugly. We gotta contain Marsh or he’s gonna blow everything.”
Pulling back, I surveyed the group, nodding to the Nighthawk Raiders’ president.
“Nice to see you again,” I said. “Looks like a good time.”
Marsh smiled at me, but I saw something dark behind his eyes. Talia slithered up, then plopped herself on his lap.
“Were you really in jail?” she asked me, reaching for Marsh’s drink, chugging it.
“Yup,” I said. “Got out this morning. Parole violation.”
Her eyes widened.
“What’d you go down for?”
“Weapons charge,” I said shortly. Marsh frowned.
“How long was your sentence?”
“Three years.”
“That’s too long for a weapons charge,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“It’s complicated,” I said, which was the truth. “Let’s just say it could’ve been a hell of a lot worse. Had priors, too.”
An overworked waitress came hustling up to us.
“You guys need anything?” she asked.