Page 108 of Sangre
Isla pressed closer to Sangre. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Sure. Let’s get a beer and some food then go to your hotel and have some fun.” He kissed her. “Tomorrow we can go for a ride in the Black Hills. There’s nothing like weaving your way through those mountains on winding roads. They’re so different from the San Juan Mountains back home. They got meadows and grassland instead of forests. It’s so beautiful and relaxing. For me it’s damn spiritual.”
She ran her hand across the side of his face. “I can’t wait for you to share it with me.”
Army, Shotgun, Eagle, and Crow came over, laughing and talking with Jerry, Throttle, and Wheelie from the Insurgents MC.
“The fuckin’ Satan’s Pistons are here,” Crow said as he came over to Sangre.
“I saw them earlier. Did they say anything to you?” he asked.
“Nah. If they did, there’d be trouble.” Crow cracked his knuckles.
“The Deadly Demons are here as well,” Hawk said. “Reaper came over to Banger and me and acted like we were his long lost fuckin’ friends. I didn’t pick up that they want trouble. They know it would mean war.”
Then all the brothers stopped talking and stared at Isla as though they’d just remembered that she was there, privy to their conversation.
“Why don’t you and your woman head out?” Hawk said, his eyes fixed on her.
Sangre felt her hand tighten around his arm. “We were just leaving to get a bite to eat. I’ll catch up with all of you later. I wanna check out the races later on.”
“Just text me, dude, and we can meet up.” Eagle said.
As Sangre and Isla wound their way through the people, she chuckled softly.
“What’s so funny, honey?”
“That Hawk guy. I thought you and your friends were badass, he takes it to a whole other level. Is he always that hard edged?”
“He doesn’t wax too easily to strangers.”
“Do any of you? I mean, except to fellow bikers, none of you would win any congeniality contest.”
“We’re good with that. It’s just that club business is kept among members. Even old ladies aren’t privy to it. Hawk would’ve asked his old lady to leave too, but Cara would’ve beat him to it. She knows the outlaw score.”
“He actually has a woman? She must be a doormat.”
“No. She’s pretty feisty and stubborn as hell as I hear it. I’m sure she doesn’t take too much shit from him. Kind of like you with me.” He nudged her with his elbow.
“I’ve never given you a hard time… yet.”
He gave her ass a light swat. “Bring it on, baby.”
They went into a rustic restaurant a few blocks away from Main Street. Rock music played through the speakers as waitresses in low-cut blouses and Daisy Dukes balanced trays of drinks and food on circular platters.
“Just grab a table,” a waitress said to them as she rushed by.
“Let’s take that one by the window,” Isla said, pointing to a small square table squeezed between larger ones.
Soon two beers were in front of Sangre, and Isla brought a glass of white wine to her lips. The scent of cigarettes mingled with the aroma of charcoal-grilled meats.
“Steak sandwich—medium rare?” Isla pointed to Sangre. The waitress set it down. “Smoked Turkey Cobb,” she said, putting the bowl down. “Anything else?”
“Just another bottle of water and glass of wine,” Isla replied. The server nodded and dashed away.
“Is a salad gonna be enough food?” Sangre asked as he brought his sandwich to his mouth.
“It’s loaded. It has so much stuff in here. I usually don’t eat anything super heavy on performance day.”
