Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

He jerked my arm forward and I dug in my heels. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

 

 

Handlebars suddenly bent over, hooked his arms around my waist, and threw me over his shoulder. I pounded my fists against his back and cursed. Then I ran my hand over his back pocket, hoping he’d have a switchblade in there.

 

“Why don’t you put the girl down, and I won’t slam your face into the asphalt. How ’bout that?” a voice threatened, making all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This guy was definitely Breed.

 

I peered around and saw a fierce man sitting on a Triumph motorcycle. I caught a glimpse of a gun strapped beneath his arm. Was he a bounty hunter? He got off his motorcycle and stalked toward the little guy, throwing a hard fist and knocking him out cold before the poor human could give him his best “go to hell” speech.

 

Then it was between him and Handlebars.

 

“This is none of your business. Walk away,” my kidnapper said in a cool voice.

 

I couldn’t see any of the action because I was ass-out, waiting for the stranger to either save my life or get himself killed.

 

Then I heard the click of a gun and froze. Oh my God! He’s going to shoot me in the ass!

 

“Let me go!” I screamed, wiggling and flailing like a dolphin caught in a fisherman’s net.

 

“Shut the hell up!” He smacked me so hard on the back of my leg I cried out in pain.

 

A gunshot went off, Handlebars bent forward, and vertigo took over as I was about to meet the concrete.

 

“Gotcha,” the motorcycle man said. Strong arms caught me from behind, and he tossed me into my car.

 

I didn’t care for being manhandled, but I didn’t hesitate to leap into action when my keys landed in my lap. I shoved the key in the ignition with a shaky hand, barely closed my door, and threw the car into reverse.

 

The last thing I saw was Motorcycle Man kicking the shit out of Handlebars, who was clutching his bleeding leg. When April came jogging out of the store, I almost slammed on the brakes. The thought was extinguished when she grabbed Motorcycle Man by the collar and dragged him away with a scowl on her face.

 

Texas was going to be an interesting place to live. Who knew such a quiet girl hung out with one serious badass who carried a gun?

 

A man I didn’t know, but I owed him.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

“Honey, you don’t look so good tonight,” Rosie said in a glum voice. She set down her glass of Dr Pepper and began filing her nails.

 

“I think I’m just having one of those days.” I tried to brush off the fact that a man with tacky facial hair had been trying to kidnap me until a biker shot him in the leg. “How do you like my new nail polish?”

 

“It’s green.” She turned up her nose and showed me her nails. Rosie had broken one and was filing it down, but the rest of them had been given the full treatment at the salon. Rosie was the kind of woman who believed a good manicure was a religious experience. “Is that all you’re going to eat? You need energy if you want to keep up with this crowd.” She stared at my salad and wiped a smudge of ink off her hand.

 

“I’m not especially hungry,” I said truthfully. I hadn’t heard from Hawk and wasn’t sure if those thugs knew where I worked. It wasn’t likely or they would have already shown up, but that didn’t stop me from taking the long, long way to work.

 

“A big act is coming in tonight, hon. You should fuel up on a hearty dinner, because the ladies will wear you out with their orders.”

 

“What act?”

 

Rosie set down her nail file and sipped her drink from a narrow straw. “They’re a hot local band. Jake had them in here once before and the show tripled his income, so he’s been trying to work out a deal to make them regulars. Be real nice to them because Jake wants to seal the deal; they’re a little skittish about signing an exclusive contract. Just keep the drinks moving. Once the girls bust through that door, it’s chaos.”

 

“Ah, one of those bands. Girls flinging their panties at the stage?”

 

She smothered a laugh. “Right before hurling their drinks in the bathroom. Try to push the expensive appetizers and weak drinks to start so they’ll spend more. If you serve the hard liquor first, they’ll be gone by the second song.”

 

“You bet. Do you guys sell anything on the side?”

 

She reapplied her lipstick and snapped the mirror shut. “Like what?”

 

“Sensor pops?”