want to think about him getting involved with anyone while he was still acclimating back into club life. I trusted Raven—but I didn’t know exactly how close he was with Heath. I’d have to talk to Heath later. Had to figure out what his real intentions were with these self-defense classes.
“Seen anything else on the cameras?” I asked, more than ready to steer the conversation away from Jazz, but also wanting to know.
Raven gave me a look that told me he knew what I was doing, but he let me do it. “No, no physical sightings of him yet. I’ve heard some rumblings through the grapevine, but nothing’s panned out. Just rumors.”
Then the door to the bar clattered open. Gunnar and Raven turned to the door, and I immediately sought out Jazz. Jazz’s gaze flew to the source of the sound; he squared his shoulders, his eyes hardened.
The three guys who walked in were clearly looking for trouble. Some club guys just radiated that energy—they wanted to fight and were simply looking for a reason to start one. Usually we didn’t have a problem with riders from other clubs dropping into Ballast; we were a well-known club in a high-trafficked territory. Guys stopped by just to talk shop or simply say they’d visited.
Liberty Crew was one of those clubs. They were local, small, and had often dropped into the bar as a stopover on their longer rides, and we’d always been happy to host them. Hell’s Ankhor and the Crew had been closer before Ankh’s death. Since then, though, our respective clubs had been more concerned with their own business, but there was no animosity between us.
Or there usually wasn’t. Clearly, though, this wasn’t a casual visit. These three in their battered leather jackets with the LC logo over the heart stood at the front door and surveyed the bar the way a picky customer peers into a restaurant kitchen. Just looking for something to nitpick—something to throw a snide remark about.
The guy in the middle was tall, broad, dark-haired, with a face like a pissed-off bulldog. The same guy who’d thrown a fit in Custom last month.
Yeah, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.
Jazz was halfway across the room before the door even swung closed all the way, with Siren at his heels.
“Hey, boys,” Jazz said easily, standing in between the Liberty riders and the rest of the bar. “What brings y’all in tonight?”
“Couple of friends can’t stop in for a drink?” the guy asked aggressively, leveling his gaze at Jazz.
“Gotta say, doesn’t look like you’re here for a drink.” Jazz hooked his thumbs in his belt loops again, an open, comfortable posture that clearly pissed the Liberty guy off.
“Oh, yeah? What’s it look like then, punk?”
“You tell me.”
I was gripping my glass so hard I thought it might shatter in my hand. The need to intervene clawed at my ribs like a wolf lunging toward prey. It was instinctive, that old protective urge from so many years of friendship. I leashed it, held it back. Jazz didn’t need me to step in for him anymore.
And a smaller part of me—a small part I was oddly ashamed of—wanted to watch this play out. Wanted to see Jazz take this guy down again.
The Liberty rider loomed over Jazz, sneering. He was trying to get a rise out of Jazz. And Jazz wasn’t giving him any reaction back. If anything, Jazz looked bored. That seemed to rile up the Liberty guy even more. The two guys flanking him followed his lead, sneering at Jazz and Siren, too, who was equally unfazed.
“I hoped you’d be here, you piece of shit,” the guy snarled. “You think you can treat a Liberty Crewman the way you did and just get away with it?”
“All right.” Jazz sounded bored. “That’s enough. Y’all need to go somewhere else for that drink.”
The Liberty guy laughed, a sharp, mean sound, and then swung at Jazz.
It was a slow, wide punch, and Jazz dodged it easily. He threw a punch back, which slammed into the guy’s shoulder, and he was about to follow it with a clean strike to the jaw when another Liberty rider crashed bodily into him, tackling Jazz into a table with a dull thump. I stood up to intervene, but Siren was already on the guy, ripping him off Jazz, and then all hell broke loose.
Gunnar was on another one of the guys like a shot, and I slammed my beer down onto