I kept my face neutral, letting his name roll around in my head before I smiled, reached over the table and pinched his cheek.
“Robby, I like it!” I grinned before he flinched.
“Riggs, my name is Riggs,” he insisted, eyes locking with mine. There was no playfulness when he looked at me this time and my smile faded instantly. “Robert is just a name written in ink on a birth certificate.”
My eyebrows furrowed, but I knew when to leave something alone and remained silent as I wondered why he was so hell bent on forgetting who he was.
What a pair we made, huh? He was running to forget his life, and I was running to find mine.
“What’s the matter, you don’t like pizza? Isn’t that like sacrilegious?”
I looked down at the barely touched pizza and lifted it to my lips taking a big bite. To hell with you, waitress. I chewed, watching the seriousness fade from his face to be replaced with the sly grin I was accustomed to. He picked up a napkin, reaching over to wipe the sauce from the corner of my mouth.
We finished our pizza, neither of us asked anymore real questions. The rest of our time together we kept light, mostly flirty banter back and forth. Afterwards he gave me a ride back to my brother’s house and when I climbed off his bike and handed him back his helmet I felt disappointment settle in. It wasn’t until I was inside the house, the door barely closed behind me when I heard the chime of my phone and knew Riggs and I weren’t finished. We were just getting started.
Chapter Five
I lined up my shot, ready to sink this bad boy into a hole and collect my fifty bucks from Bones, when the door stormed open to the Chapel and broke my concentration.
“Bones, the Bulldog needs to see you,” Blackie beckoned from the doorway.
I watched Bones place his beer down and grab his cut, slipping it on before he walked into the Chapel.
Lucky Bastard.
I averted my eyes back to the pool table just in time to see my ball roll into its respective pocket.
“You owe me a fifty spot!” I called out to Bones, only for him to flip me the bird as he stepped around the VP and into the Chapel. My eyes locked with Blackie’s and I tipped my beer bottle to him before drowning my sorrows in my brewsky.
“You too, Riggs,” Blackie added.
I nearly spat out the mouthful of ale but instead I swallowed and choked on it, resulting in a coughing fit.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t get all fucking dramatic. Get your ass in here,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” I replied while coughing up a lung and mock saluted him. I finally got myself under control, cleared my throat and tried not to grin like a banshee.
I took the only open seat at the large wooden table across from Bones and lifted my hand before I rubbed my index finger against my thumb.
“Pay up, bitch,” I teased.
“Suck a dick, Riggs,” he taunted back.
“Anything you earn the club gets half,” Pipe reminded me. “You need help in collecting?” He asked, as he elbowed Bones.
“All right, if you assholes are done maybe we can get the fuck down to business,” Jack growled from the head of the table. He waited for everyone to settle down, slamming his gavel down and bringing our attention toward him. “Need all hands on deck today,” he began as he turned his gaze toward me. “Even you, Riggs,” he confirmed.
“Aw, you’re pulling Mary Poppins off of Bianci?” Bones joked, earning laughter from our brothers.
“Eat shit,” I ground out.
“Just for today,” Jack reminded me. He could eat shit too. I joined the Satan’s Knights to be a man of honor, respect and loyalty. A man who wasn’t afraid to break rules and shit for the greater good of his brotherhood and his club. I did not sign up to be a fucking babysitter. I didn’t even like kids, not that Bianci was a kid, but well he had one, which made him guilty by association.
“Pipe has been working on a deal to get rid of the guns we have sitting over at Pops,” he explained.
Pops was about a hundred and ten years old, well, not really but he was fucking old. Before Jack was voted president of the Satan’s Knights, Pops son held the title, some guy named Cain. I don’t know much about the man but I know he meant a lot to Jack because he inked his name onto his shoulder. Cain was a big drug guy back in the day, sold and sampled, used and abused, and even though he had hepatitis, I’m sure he used until his dying day.
The Satan’s Knights had a shooting range up in Jersey but because each member has a rap sheet a mile long, and a mug shot on the wall, their names couldn’t be on the paperwork. The government was funny that way and wasn’t too keen on having outlaws run a shooting range so Pops ran the joint for the club. It was a pretty sweet deal, he did most of the dirty work, provided us a legit place where the club could house its weapons, all for a little kick back.
“Finally, got ourselves a buyer and a couple of g’s over what we were shooting for,” Pipe added. “No pun intended.”
“Who’s the buyer?” Bones asked.