Dixon (Dark Falcons #1) - Em Petrova Page 0,1
is still standing. The town’s cleaned up so much, I thought they might have closed down.”
“Nope. Gotta grab a cold one somewhere. Speaking of, what are ya doin’ right now? Grab the shit you need and let’s have a drink.”
He lifted his chin toward the case of oil not far away. “Grab one o’ those cases and make yourself useful.” He filled his own arms with the filters and they headed up to the checkout. The bikers were gone, and Mr. Hall shot them a relieved look at their approach.
“Those guys are good for business—always in here buyin’ parts for their Harleys—but they’re a pain in my ass too. Pains in everyone’s asses,” Hall muttered as he rang up the filters.
“I take it they’ve been in town a while?” Dixon asked.
“Been here since spring. They ride up into the mountains and raise hell during the days and come back here in the evenings to raise even more hell.”
Dixon cocked his head. “What do they do? Party?”
“More than that,” Tank cut in, setting his own auto part on the counter to ring up next. “The sheriff’s busy arresting them for theft and assault.”
His brows shot up. “Fuck. Why doesn’t the sheriff toss ’em out?”
“He did. Three times. They’re set on making Mersey their town, and we’re stuck with the assholes.”
Dixon hefted the case of oil under an arm and grabbed the big bag full of filters with his free hand. “Put it on the tab.”
“I know, I know. Been dealin’ with you Rothchilds half my life.” Hall smiled as he gave him a hard time.
Dixon walked out and crossed the street again. Ordinarily, he’d drop the oil into the bed of the truck, but knowing the town had more than a few sticky fingers in residence, he dumped the purchases on the passenger seat instead.
An engine rumbled, and he looked up to see Tank whipping up on a rebuilt Harley. “Didn’t know you were ridin’ again.”
“Never stopped. What’s your excuse?” He eyed Dixon’s old truck, and Dixon burst out laughing.
“This thing’s a lady killer. Don’t let her fool ya.”
“Well hop in that lady killer and head down to the Painted Pig with me so I can buy ya a drink.” With that, Tank laid on the gas and zoomed off down Main Street, not even slowing for the yellow light and sliding through it on red. A horn honked at him, and Dixon chuckled to himself.
Some shit never changed, and for once since his return to Mersey, he was glad to find Tank hadn’t. He couldn’t deal with some buttoned-up real estate agent standing in place of his rough and rugged friend.
Friends. Damn, the last time he called anyone by that term, it’d been his own platoon. His mind shot to the photo he kept of everyone at home on his dresser. The brotherhood broken apart now, but he’d fought with the best and called each and every one friend.
More than a few were dead—killed in action. Fuck, they never did find Dax’s body.
He swiped his fingers through his hair and climbed behind the wheel. A minute later, he bumped into the parking lot of the Painted Pig. The name of the bar was a point of humor among all who visited—the idea that a person drank so much that even a pig in lipstick looked good enough to take home.
Tank already waited for him, leaning against his bike with arms folded over his massive chest.
Dixon jumped out. “Nice to see they never filled the potholes in the parking lot.”
“Some things never change, right?” Tank extended an arm as Dixon neared and slapped him on the back. “Whiskey still your poison?”
“I’m a brand whore now, but yeah.”
“Johnnie Walker?”
“Yup.”
“I prefer the Crown myself. C’mon.”
Once inside, Dixon saw the Painted Pig hadn’t changed a bit. The same photo of an ugly pig wearing lipstick hung above the bar, and the dim interior boasted the same booths and stools. He sidled up to a stool he’d held down on his last night in town. He wasn’t even legal drinking age yet, but the owner let him in anyway, saying any man going off to the Marines better have a drink or two in him.
“Man, remember the last time you were in this bar?” Tank seemed to echo his train of thought. “We had to carry your ass out.”
“Yeah, I regretted that hangover all the next day. The bus trip didn’t do me any favors. I pretty much ruined that bus bathroom.”
They shared a laugh,