Running Game(133)

“Nice to see that you have such reverence for my rules. You have disappointed me, Angel. I thought that I had been very clear what would happen if you did. Have I not put you up here, taken care of you, and put up with your constant rulebreaking? And now this.”

“I’m sorry, Old Greg,” she murmured. “Don’t throw me back out. I was only patching him up, honest. He just woke up. Ask him.”

Old Greg glowered at me.

“Is this true?”

I thought about spitting out some sort of retort. Of punishing him for daring to come between us, or her for leaping up and ripping my prize away.

“Yeah, it’s true,” I answered begrudgingly.

“But you’re shirtless.”

“You’re observant, aren’t you?” He was seriously pissing me off, and I couldn’t help but take the pot shot. But before his indignant glare could smolder into action, I quickly added: “I took a few hits. She was making sure my ribs weren’t broken.”

After a moment to stifle his reaction, the old man nodded, apparently accepting this explanation.

“Which reminds me… next time, you let the hospital handle your wounded friends. Angel, you told me that you’re supposed to be letting that part of your life go. Always patching people up yourself. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes sir,” she quietly agreed.

“Because it doesn’t look like that now.” He pointed at me. “He should be seeing a doctor right now. Not lying around in the back of a bar. I mean, what kind of supplies do we seriously have? What if he needs an emergency room? You should have sent him from here in an ambulance.”

“I’m in good shape,” I cut in.

“No son, you look as bad as your attitude. Both of which are absolute shit,” he grumbled throatily. A slight cough rumbled out from his chest, and he quieted it with a handkerchief. “Tell me, is that your fancy jeep out front?”

“That’s right,” I answered.

“Good. Can you drive?”

“I think so,” I blurted out.

I realized my mistake too late.

“Fine. Get in your jeep and drive, then.”

I swallowed angrily.

Old Greg continued. “Closest after-hours clinic is a few miles down the Interstate. Head east. Look for Brightsdale. Pass the welcome sign, a mile down on the left. Can’t miss it. Big bright building, probably the only one with the lights on at this time of night.”

Angel’s eyes met mine. She was hurt and confused, but I could tell she was resigned to this.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t so convinced.

“You want me out? After I saved your tenant?”

Old Greg bristled. “Son, as the owner of the roof currently over your head, I want you seeking proper medical attention, instead of sniffing around my tenant as you so respectfully put it.”

I wanted to lash out.

I wanted to hit him.

But I bit my tongue.

When I didn’t snap at his words, the owner visibly softened – even if only by a little. With a deep sigh, he pointed over at Angel.

“Don’t get me wrong: you saved her. I’m grateful. The sheriff told me what you did, and I shudder to think what would have happened if you weren’t here.”

I couldn’t help myself.

“This sort of thing happen often?”

Old Greg soured.

“Not usually, no. I have no earthly idea what got into them tonight. You see, now I have to go through the trouble of figuring out a bouncer for a little while…”

“Right. Not a bad idea. Better than leaving her here alone with patrons you two clearly can’t control.”

He looked me in the eyes, deciding whether or not to jump into a fresh round of passive-aggressive arguing with me. Only, I was prepared to back it up a little more viciously this time, fueled by a rock-hard cock that demanded release.

This idiot had fucked it all up.

Things had been going great.

“Yes… you’re right,” he conceded. “And I will figure out what to do about that very soon. Now then, I’m going to politely ask you to leave my bar. Make me ask again… maybe it’s not so nice next time.”

“Can she walk me out?” I asked him.

The crusty bar owner turned to her, and then nodded. “If Angel wants, so long as she’s back inside shortly. She’s got a damn hole in my roof that needs patching. I’m amazed, frankly, that you didn’t blow my whole fucking bar down.”

Pushing my confidence and arrogance aside, I decided to leave on a high note. “I’m sorry for the trouble, sir,” I extended my hand. “I’ll be on my way.”

Old Greg nodded quickly, but ignored the gesture all the same. “Two minutes,” he assigned me. “More than enough time for the two of you.”