Beauty and the Biker(21)

Taking a step back I hear the glass from the bottle I dropped crack under my boots.

“Don’t move,” Abe snaps at me, like he’s annoyed. I halt my movements, my eyes darting between the three of them. Abe does look savage, just like Mac said. The scars on half of his face are pulled tighter with his anger, but he still looks like the same Abraham I met all those years ago.

Mac just looks amused at the whole situation, like she’s having the time of her life.

“You have no right to be in our territory.” Burnout’s voice comes out a little shakier now that Abe has a hand on him. He must be rethinking his position, but I know for a fact there are other Five Aces close by in this club.

Suddenly, Mac gets angry at his words, her eyes snapping to him. “You didn't seem to have a fucking problem coming in our territory and blowing a goddamn hole in my range.” She looks like she’s going to lunge for him, the anger bleeding from her. Instead she takes a breath and about three steps back, controlling herself.

“Easy, Casper,” Abe says. “Not here.”

Burnout looks between Abe and Mac, fear in his eyes. “You need to keep that bitch under control.”

“I just kept her from shooting your ass.” Abe leans in real close to him, and I barely make out what he whispers. “Don't you think she’s put enough holes in your brothers already?”

Burnout goes to swing, but Abe still has his hand pressing hard into his shoulder. The angle is awkward and it makes Burnout slip. Abe catches him by the back of the head and slams it into the bar, letting him go as he slides to the floor. It’s quick and nearly silent, and I’m frozen in place as I watch it happen.

“We’ve gotta ride. Grab her,” Mac says, nodding at me. Grab me? Yeah, that’s not happening.

Abe reaches his hand out over the bar, indicating I should go with him. But I just back away further, the glass crunching under my boots.

“Julie.”

I shake my head. I won’t go with him. I can’t do it.

“Shortcake.”

My heart squeezes at the name, nearly breaking in two. No. I’ve been burned twice by him, and it won't be happening a third time, no matter how bad I want to know why he’s here. But maybe I should tell him; who knows if I’ll ever see him again.

“Savage, come on, man. No fucking around. We’ve got about thirty seconds and we’ve got to go.”

When Abe continues to just stare at me, his hand outstretched, Mac tries again. “It’s just us here.”

Abe looks at Mac and then nods his head, coming to a decision. Suddenly, he jumps over the bar like it’s nothing more than a step, and throws me over his shoulder before I can react. I’m upside down and out from behind the bar before I can make the first protest, stunned at what he’s just done.

“What the fuck are you doing in a place like that?” he grunts, carrying me out of the bar.

“That’s none of your fucking business, Abe. I stopped being your business the night you left me in Vegas.”

I feel him stop, and then he places me on the ground. I’m pissed off that he’s done this, and I turn to walk away from him. I hear his boots following behind me, and I see his motorcycle parked next to my car. I work at this stupid strip club to make extra money, money I don’t want to ask my mom and dad for. The past few years have been rough on them, and without enough rain to feed the land, it’s made things tight. Working here on a Saturday is an extra three hundred dollars a week. It’s easy money, and I’d be crazy to turn it down. I don’t have time for his bullshit.

“I’m your husband, so that makes it my fucking business. Or did you forget you still belong to me?”

His words hit me, and I spin back around as he grabs me by the arm. He looks livid, but I don’t care. The pain he left in my heart is bigger than his attitude.

“Husband?” I hear the disbelief in Mac’s voice, but I don’t have time to explain shit to her.

“Oh I didn’t forget, Abe.” Pushing at his chest, I try to get him to take a step back, but he doesn't budge. I push harder, and this time he actually lets me go. Marching to the passenger side of my car, I pull open the door and dig through the glove box. I can feel him standing me behind me, so when I locate the yellow envelope, I turn around and shove it into his chest. “Sign on the dotted line and I’m no longer your problem.”

He looks stunned, but opens the envelope, pulling the papers out, his dog tags sliding into his hand. I see the pain flash across his face, and I want nothing more than to take it back. I know he’s been through so much, and I don’t want to be a part of his pain, but I need to stop my own. I want him to be happy, but he doesn't seem to want to be, and I can’t let him drag me down with him. I’ve got more than just myself to think about now, and I can’t have this holding me back anymore.