to slip through the bystanders. “Your guys?” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
A woman turned and noted his cut, her eyes widening in alarm.
Hopefully, she would change her tune in the next few minutes.
He turned to look at Leah – she bubbled with excitement, failing to hold back a smile. Crazy girl, he thought, with a sudden swell of fondness. No one could have been Ava’s best friend and be the type to shy away from danger. “Stay here,” he told her.
She let go, and nodded, right at the edge of the crowd – still growing; pedestrians had crossed from the other side of the street, the low roar of voices getting louder.
He faced forward, took a deep breath, and shouted, “Hey! What’s going on here?”
Four faces, two streaked with black and green stripes, turned toward him; the teens’ cheeks were smushed into the plywood, their eyes wild and white-rimmed.
“Please,” the nearest begged, “we didn’t do anything!”
“Walk away, biker bitch,” Tenny said, and, wow, his American accent was flawless. “This isn’t your business.” He’d projected his voice on purpose: overloud and theatrical for their audience.
An audience to which Carter was keenly aware he was showing the back of his cut: his patches, his designation as a Lean Dog. “That’s club-owned property,” he said, projecting his own voice, drawing on all his meager one semester’s worth of Intro to Drama. “So, yeah, it actually is my business. What the hell are you doing? These are just kids.”
Tenny shoved the kid he held, grinding his face into the rough surface of the plywood. “Get lost.”
He heard the exclamations behind him, the shouts and gasps and curses. He said, “Fuck you,” and charged in.
They’d rehearsed this earlier today, at the clubhouse. Carter went in with a swing that Tenny blocked – after he’d let go of his victim. It was choreographed, a few fake punches, some fake grunts on Tenny’s part.
A very not fake glancing blow against Carter’s jaw that snapped his head back and had bright pain sparking through his skull. With real anger, he delivered the last attack: a flurry of blows, and then a kick – it didn’t connect, because Tenny was too fast and too good. Carter caught a glimpse of his wicked smile of delight before he went into a fake tumble that had him rolling out into the street.
Carter squared off from him, hands clenched into fists.
Tenny stood, making a show of it, feigning dizzy and hurt. He even added a limp, and wiped at nonexistent blood on his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, smudging his grease paint.
They locked gazes, and Tenny ducked his head, and started limping down the street, as practiced.
Carter glanced back over his shoulder at the teenagers, still covering. Reese was nowhere in sight, now. “You guys okay?”
They nodded, darting glances toward the crowd.
“Go on, get out of here. Those guys won’t give you any more trouble.”
They didn’t wait; bolted down the sidewalk and around the corner.
The crowd milled; the gasps and shouts had given way to hushed conversations, a low rustling like paper. Carter found the gaze of the woman who’d been startled by him only moments ago, and the fear had given way to thoughtfulness.
Carter lifted both hands in a disarming gesture. “Sorry, everybody. It’s okay.”
“Who was that?” one man asked, covering his fear with lots of bluster, chin and chest thrust outward. “Those guys with their faces painted.”
“I don’t know.” Carter made a grim face, and shook his head. “But we’re gonna try to find out. Nobody should be terrorized on the street like this.”
“The Lean Dogs bought Bell Bar?” someone else asked.
And another: “What are they gonna do with it?”
Why me? Carter had asked earlier, vaguely queasy with panic. I don’t think I’m the best person for this. Not someone bred and born in the club; hardly a mascot.
But Ghost had said, You were a hometown hero for a while there in high school. Some people remember you. And, even better, you’re pretty. He’d grinned. You still look like a prep, and not a tatted-up monster. No offense, Merc.
Mercy had shrugged and grinned.
His face was still a bruised mess, but there was nothing for that. He said, “Yeah, the Dogs bought Bell Bar. It was full of mold and bad wiring, and the old owner couldn’t afford to fix it up. So we’re doing a full reno, and it’ll be back open to the public soon, better than ever.”
That earned him a few considering looks; some head tilts.