Page 66 of Christmas Wish
“Why are there so many shits in here who should be in the bars downtown? They’re giving dives a bad name,” Animal said as he sidled up to Ryder.
“I was just noticing that. I think they’re just fucking bored living in their safe and controlled neighborhoods. That shit can be soul-killing, so they come here for some danger,” Ryder replied.
“They’re gonna get it real quick,” Jax said jerking his head toward the door.
Ryder looked over his shoulder and saw four men wearing leather jackets with a Twisted Kings’ patch. Two of the men looked to be in their mid-twenties, while the other two appeared to be in their late twenties or early thirties. Two were very muscular, one was short and scrawny, the other, medium height and stocky.
“We can easily take these fuckers down,” Jax said.
“Hell, I could take them down by myself,” Rock said.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Ryder replied, turning back around.
Hawk came over to the brothers, his gaze fixed on the four men making their way over to the bar. “We need to see their rockers before we approach them,” he said.
The men agreed, and Ryder watched as the bikers leaned against the bar and talked to the bartender. It’d been a while since Ryder had been in a fight. Once he’d returned to Pinewood Springs and built his house, he turned the basement into a gym and worked out six out of seven days for years. He wanted to keep his strength up, so when Joey—one of the vets in the counseling sessions—told Ryder that he trained at a mixed martial arts studio, Ryder had to check it out. All he wanted was to be able to defend himself and hold his own, which he proved on a few occasions that he could do just that. It was a long, grueling process to get where he was now, but standing among his brothers as an equal, all the hard work had been worth it.
“The one asshole just took off his jacket, and he’s got the Colorado bottom rocker on the back of his cut,” Animal said.
“Let’s go,” Hawk replied.
As the group of Insurgents made their way over to the members of the Twisted Kings, people moved out of their way; some of the more seasoned dive patrons made a beeline for the back of the bar or down the hallway. The yuppies continued drinking, playing pool, and ordering more beer, seemingly oblivious to the impending conflict.
A young woman bumped into Ryder, spilling her beer all over him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her perfectly manicured fingers wiping at his jacket. “I tripped.” Ryder followed her gaze down to her open-toed heels. “Not the best choice in footwear, right?” She smiled sweetly.
Ryder jerked back and grabbed the napkin she offered him. “Shit’s about to get real, so you better haul your privileged ass outta here. Go out back or something,” he said, mopping up the liquid.
“You want to go out back with me?” Her eyes ran over his body then landed on his face. “Okay … cool.”
“You’re in the wrong fucking bar, lady. I’m telling you to get out because you might get hurt.” Ryder whirled around and stalked over to the bikers.
“You fuckers enjoying yourselves?” Throttle asked as he reclined against the bar, pinning one of the guys in.
The stocky man turned around, his eyes widening at the outlaws surrounding him and his buddies.
“We got a real problem here,” Hawk said as he jerked his head at the bartender.
Ryder saw the man raise his hands to a group of clueless patrons as if saying that he was done serving drinks for a while. He walked to the end of the bar and stood there, his eyes fixed on the Insurgents. Ryder, not worried that the dude would call the badges, focused his attention back to Hawk.
“What is it?” the taller Twisted King asked.
“Your bottom rocker’s laying claim to an occupied area. You’re in Insurgents’ territory.”
“So?” the other member said.
“Fuck, Tag, this is serious,” the scrawny member said.
“Better listen to the dude,Tag, this is fuckin’ serious.” Hawk leaned in real close so that his chest laid against the back of one of the members.
“We’re just dudes who like to ride,” the scrawny one said, his eyes darting to each of the Insurgents and back like a ping-pong game.
“We know that’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Rock said.
“Take the fuckin’ rocker off now, or we’ll do it for you,” Smokey gritted.
“You sonsofbitches don’t know shit about respect,” Ryder said, putting his foot up on the bar rail.
