Tex (Hell's Ankhor #5) - Aiden Bates Page 0,52

a little visit at Ballast from a couple of your guys last night,” Blade said. “You didn’t get a call from the jail?”

Mal and Dante exchanged a dark look. “Can’t say we did. But a couple of our guys did get back late last night. Very late.” Mal stepped off the porch and into the small driveway, Dante following behind. “What happened?”

“Three of them came into Ballast looking for a fight,” Blade said. “Threw some fists at a few of our enforcers. Cops got called” —Mal sucked his teeth— “and we had to spend our evening at the jail getting our guys out. Self-defense for us. I expect your boys have some charges to navigate.”

“It was bound to happen eventually,” Mal groused. “You agree, Dante?”

But Dante was apparently distracted—he was watching Heath curiously, as Heath tried to angle his body behind Priest like he could hide from Dante’s gaze.

“Dante?” Mal repeated, eyebrows raised.

“Right.” Dante jerked his attention back to Blade. “Yeah, unfortunately I’m not surprised to hear it. They’ve been blowing off their duties recently, drinking too much, causing trouble… I thought I’d talked some sense into them, but apparently not.”

“We’ll deal with our members, and pay for any damages to Ballast, of course.” Mal sighed and shook his head, disappointed. “On behalf of the Crew, I’m sorry you had to deal with this bullshit. Won’t happen again.”

“Who’s gonna be doing the handling?” Blade asked.

“Our VP.” Mal nodded at Dante.

Dante’s eyes were already back on Heath. He cleared his throat, and then met Blade’s gaze steadily. “No doubt.”

For a moment they watched each other appraisingly, seriously, like they were both waiting for the other to back off. I shifted my weight on my feet a little—did Blade not believe him? Were we about to have to tussle a little?

Then Blade’s face suddenly split into a grin. “Good,” he said. “I’m sure you can handle it. Throw in a couple goodies from your bakery and we’ll call it square. How’s business?”

Dante laughed, too, and the smile transformed his face, turning him from a tough enforcer to a big teddy bear. “Going pretty well, I gotta say. Moving more into the cupcake sphere these days.”

“His decorating skills are getting more impressive by the day,” Mal added.

Heath finally stepped out from behind Priest. There was a pink flush high on his cheeks when his and Dante’s eyes met. I could see why—Dante looked like a different man when he smiled.

Huh. Since when did I start noticing guys’ smiles?

“Glad to hear it,” Blade said. “Listen, Mal. Are those guys here? One of them mentioned running into the Viper’s Nest president. That’s not something I can let go unremarked.”

Mal’s expression darkened a little bit. Likely he wanted to deal with his members privately—but Blade wasn’t going to let them off the hook so easily. Tension simmered between them for a moment, an unspoken conversation between presidents.

Mal glanced at Priest. Priest met his gaze unflinchingly, but tilted his chin down slightly in a nod of respect.

Blade took a small step backwards, acquiescing that he wouldn’t step in without permission.

Mal sighed. He seemed to know we wouldn’t be leaving with just a promise of punishment. “Baxter!” Mal called. “Get out here!”

The asshole from Custom Ankhs stepped onto the porch, with his two cronies behind him. His face immediately curled into a sneer. “Why are these jackasses here?”

“Because apparently you fucked up their bar,” Mal snapped. “And now the club has to pay reparations for it. Got anything you want to say?”

“Yeah,” Baxter said. “Get fucked, Blade.”

Mal narrowed his eyes. “These two were with him at Ballast?” he asked Blade.

Blade nodded, chin tilted down, eyes blazing.

“Last chance, Ryder, Trip. You with the Crew, or with Baxter?”

Ryder and Trip glanced at each other, then, at nearly the same time, leaped off the porch and took off running. Dante was on them like a hound, exploding off the balls of his feet with a speed that was shocking for his size. Before the two cronies could get more than a few yards away, Dante was colliding into them like a linebacker, dragging them both to the ground in one powerful hit.

Mal was on Baxter just as fast, using Dante's distraction as a chance to drag Baxter off the porch and into a chokehold. “Wanna tell your president why you were talking about Crave?” Mal asked.

Baxter spit at his feet. “At least Crave has some fucking goals.”

God, I wanted to knock this asshole’s head off. From Blade’s expression, he was thinking