Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Soon. Then she’d have someone to go out with to the bar or club. A “wing-woman.” Unfortunately, since Gabi was still underage, Maddie had to go out on her own.
She really needed to make more of an effort to find friends around here. Even if they were some of the women from the Dirty Angels. But until then, she could head to her regular drinking spot… The Iron Horse Roadhouse.
Or…
She could go to Dirty Dick’s.
She’d be safe at either location. She wouldn’t have to worry about protecting her drink when she wasn’t looking. She wouldn’t have to worry about being accosted in a dark parking lot. She’d also be taken care of if, for some reason, she drank too much.
However, at Dick’s she’d be worried about running into Romeo. She already fended off one aggravating man today, she didn’t want to deal with another.
She was tired and her patience was non-existent.
That decided it.
The Iron Horse it was.
Romeo crab-walked his sled backwards into the spot next to another Harley, shut it down, pulled off the bandana that kept bugs from getting stuck between his teeth and shed the clear protective glasses he wore when it was too dark to wear his shades.
He decided to leave his skull cap and of course, his cut in place. The DAMC had no problem with other clubs wearing their colors in their establishment as long as it didn’t cause issues. If it did, that cut, along with the troublemaker wearing it, was quickly ejected out the front door by the prospects playing bouncers that night.
But now that the Shadow Warriors MC was long gone and what was left of the Deadly Demons on life support, trouble usually didn’t find its way into the Iron Horse Roadhouse.
Unless they considered Romeo trouble. Some of the Angels might.
Hawk had previously run a tight ship and now shared manager duties with Coop. The DAMC vice president was about as present in their bar as much as Magnum was at Dick’s. Basically, he kept himself scarce. While Coop, along with the other long-time DAMC members, kept the bar running smoothly.
As soon as Romeo yanked open the thick, bullet-proof door, the deep bass of loud rock music smacked him right in the chest.
He recognized the song immediately as one belonging to Dirty Deeds, Nash’s band. The band still did well but could’ve been a national—or even international—success if the Dirty Angel hadn’t settled down with Cross, his badge-wearing pig husband, to raise adopted twins.
The band still toured, but not like it used to. The Knights occasionally hired them when they threw a big bash or event.
The Iron Horse played their music a lot, both recorded and live. When it was live, they were a huge draw, and the bar was usually packed shoulder to shoulder. Tonight, Dirty Deed’s music was recorded, and the bar was about as busy as any drinking hole would get on a Thursday night.
Not very.
That made it much easier to spot the person he’d hoped would be here.
He had a fucking hunch she might show up at the Iron Horse only because she had mentioned the other night that this was where she drank.
Her mistake was his advantage.
He grinned.
Since she was playing pool, her back was to him when he strode straight to the bar to grab a beer.
He slid his ass backwards onto a stool and only twisted his head enough to give Coop a chin lift in greeting.
Instead of returning it, Coop came over. “Brother.”
“Whassup? Need a cold one.”
“Tap or bottle?”
Romeo answered, “Whatever’s on the house.”
“Nothin’s on the fuckin’ house ‘cept conversation. And maybe a bowl of stale peanuts.”
“Whataya got on tap?” Romeo asked him.
“Probably the same shit you have on tap at Dick’s. Why you here?”
“Damn! Can’t a man come in here and have a fuckin’ beer?”
“Sure. But if you wanna drink for free, Dick’s got you covered. Maybe you’re lost.”
“Ain’t lost. Can’t hang out here? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Hawk know how you’re treatin’ your customers?”
“Since when are you a customer?”
“When I gotta fuckin’ pay!” he just about shouted. With a grumble, he dug out his wallet and thumbed through his cash. He turned and slapped a fiver on the bar.
“You’re short.”
“I’m goddamn six-one. How the fuck am I short?”
Coop snorted and tipped his head toward the five-dollar bill. “It’s six now for a draft. And that don’t include the generous tip you’re gonna leave me.”
“Here’s a fuckin’ tip for you…” Romeo flipped Coop the bird, then jabbed it at him. “See the tip of my finger?”
“You’re goddamn hilarious, Rome. You should do fuckin’ standup.”
“Prolly should.”
“Okay, cheap ass, draft or bottle?”
“Whatever that five spot covers.”
“That’ll get you a glass of tap water. Without ice.”
Romeo shook his head and gave the man his back again so he could concentrate on the woman playing pool.
Now that she was standing under a light, he noticed he was right about her hair being slightly darker. Nothing drastic but it didn’t seem as blonde as when he last saw her. It was now more of a reddish brown.