Page 2 of Diesel's Perseverance
“How much you won off those puny assholes?” Rags asked before bringing a bottle of beer to his lips.
“Almost a grand.”
Rags shook his head. “They never learn that we can kick their asses each and every time.”
“And you know they’re gonna tell their buddies I hustled them. Like I need to hustle drunk college kids,” he said, shoving the money into his pocket.
“Asswipes shouldn’t play pool if they can’t handle their liquor,” Rags said as he placed the empty beer bottle down on one of the high tables lining the billiard area.
Nodding, Diesel kept his gaze focused on the three men who hadn’t looked at Rags and him since they slinked away after their loss. They knew better than to eyeball him or give him, or any Insurgent for that matter, any lip.
A few of the chicks who came in with the dudes had rushed to the far side of the bar when the three games were over. Two of them, one blonde and one brunette, looked at him sideways-like, acting like they were glancing at something else, but he knew better. Diesel was just what they wanted, just what they needed—a hard ride with the right amount of roughhouse so they could tell their nice-and-proper friends all about it on the front porch of their daddies’ mansions on the hill. He saw how the brunette’s gaze skimmed over his broad shoulders and firm biceps. She was so fucking transparent.
“A table’s opened up over there,” Rags said as he stood up and walked away.
Diesel looked over his shoulder and found Rags sitting at a table near the bar. Without a second glance at the chick, he sauntered over and plopped down into a chair.
“Beau said our food’s coming. Did you notice that brown-haired chick checking you out? The skinny one keeps staring at me and turning away when I look back.” He chuckled. “Maybe we should fuck those dudes’ chicks, too.”
“Not interested.”
“Why not? You got something better?”
“Nah. It’s just that any night of the week, I can go into a bar, pool hall, or anywhere, and there’ll be women like that wanting some action with a biker.”
Rags shrugged. “That’s one of the perks of being an Insurgent. I’m not seeing a problem with that.”
“Too easy.”
Rags guffawed. “Since when isthata drawback? You’ve been fucking up a storm ever since you got out of the pen. You must’ve smoked some bad weed, bro, ’cause you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Here you go, sugar—Tex Mex burger, medium, extra guac, and jalapeños.” The redheaded waitress leaned down low enough to give Diesel an unobstructed view of her generous cleavage. “Do you want me to freshen up that drink for you?” The tip of her tongue skimmed the top of her glossy lip.
“Sure.” He handed her the glass. “And what’s your name?”
A wide smile broke across her face. “Sandy.”
He watched the rhythm of her hips, swaying back and forth as she walked away. When she disappeared into the crowd at the bar, he turned away and picked up his burger.
“Where the fuck are my damn wings?” Rags grumbled.
Diesel grinned, then took a big bite of his dinner.
“Here you go, buddy,” Beau said, placing a steaming basket in front of Rags. “You guys need anything else?”
“Another beer would be good,” Rags said.
“Sandy’s getting my drink.” Diesel glanced at Rags and grinned again.
“Asshole,” he muttered under his breath before picking up one of the wings.
“What’s eating him?” Beau said.
“Beats me.” He took another bite out of his hamburger. “You make a damn good burger, bro.”
“I should. I’ve been making them for more than half my life. How’s Banger doing? I haven’t seen him in a couple of months.”
“He’s good. Busy with the club and his family. He’s gone softer than shit since Kylie gave him a granddaughter.”
