Silver Bastard (Silver Valley #1)(48)
Author: Joanna Wylde

“I know,” Teresa said, meeting his eyes head-on. “I’m done with your shit. You can take your friends and get the hell out.”

Handsy moaned and sat up.

“Call the cops. I want to press charges.”

“You can talk to my shotgun,” Teresa replied flatly.

“No need,” Alpha Guy said smoothly. “He’s sorry for his behavior, and he’d like to leave a generous tip to apologize. He won’t be back. Get your ass up, fuckwad.”

He gave his friend a kick to emphasize the point, and we all watched as the asshole stood up slowly. To my astonishment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, sorting through the bills inside before he took out a fifty and held it out toward me.

“Try again,” Dark Hair snapped.

The asshole opened his wallet again, finding a second fifty.

“Now say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” he hissed.

“Go wait in the fucking car.”

With that, he gave me a nasty glare and started walking away painfully.

“I’m very sorry about that,” Dark Hair said. Strangely enough, he seemed to be directing the words toward Darcy, which didn’t make any sense but then again, none of it did.

“I’ll talk to Boonie,” she replied. “He’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks.”

I met Danielle’s gaze, my eyes wide. What the hell was that? she mouthed at me. I shrugged, because I had no clue.

“In my office,” Teresa repeated. The sinking feeling hit my stomach again. At least I’d made enough to keep my phone on before I got fired . . . “Everyone else, get back to drinking. It’s over.”

“Okay, tell it to me straight,” she said when we were inside, the door shut behind us. “What the fuck happened out there?”

“He’s been grabbing at me all night,” I said slowly, trying not to sound defensive. “The last time it happened, he stuck his hand between my legs. Danielle sent me outside to calm down, and when I came back he was waiting and made another grab at me. I had to defend myself.”

Teresa stared me down, her face thoughtful. Shit. This was it—she’d figured me out and now it would come . . .

“Okay,” she said finally. “So can you finish your shift? We can cover if you need to go home.”

What?

“I attacked one of the customers,” I reminded her, confused.

“No, a customer attacked you,” she replied, eyes hard. “I know we’ve got a reputation as a tough bar, but nobody fucks with my people. That boy’s lucky you got to him before I did.”

“Oh . . .” Wow. Hadn’t seen that coming. “Well, uh . . . I guess I can go back to work? I mean, I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.”

“Great,” she said. “Get yourself a shot to smooth out the rough edges and then back at it. And don’t worry about that shithead bothering you again. Darcy will take care of it.”

“Why . . . ?” I closed my mouth, cutting off the question, realizing I didn’t need or want to know the answer. Nope. Best to let it go, so I left her office and got my shot.

Then I started waiting my tables again.

Darcy and Boonie were still there, and Darcy offered me a concerned look. I decided to pretend nothing had happened. Danielle came over to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I replied. “No big deal. I think I like this place, though.”

Danielle smiled, nudging me with her shoulder.

“Me, too.”

Thankfully, we were only a few minutes from last call, and the rest of the night had slipped by without any more drama. I dragged into my apartment at three in the morning, exhausted but satisfied. I put on some music, grabbed a glass of water, and sat down at my table to count my tips. It wasn’t a fortune, but I’d be able to pay the power bill and eat for another week if I was careful.

Working at the Moose might be okay after all.

I glanced over at my Singer, feeling hopeful for the first time that day. The sleek, black machine with its gold filigree and etching called to me, and I laughed. Maybe tomorrow I’d start that quilt I’d been thinking about. I knew just the pattern, too. Jacob’s Ladder.

So what if Puck hated me? I’d fucked up but I’d done my best to fix it. I had no idea what might happen with my mom, but if she pulled herself together and left Teeny, I’d be ready for her. If she didn’t, at least I’d proven I could take care of myself.

SUNDAY

PUCK

“You should’ve fucking called me,” I told Boonie, wishing I could hit him. We’d gathered at the clubhouse for the club’s weekly meeting. Darcy had been cooking pancakes, eggs, and bacon for us when we’d pulled up, so I’d offered her a hand because I’m a giver like that.

Also wanted to know if Becca had mentioned me after I left last night.

Not that I’d cop to it. Hell no . . . yet there I found myself in the kitchen, helping cook breakfast on the off chance that Darcy might take pity on me, throw me some information. That’s when she told me about Becca, the prick in the hallway, and Roarke Malloy’s response.

Thirty seconds later I was in Boonie’s face, demanding some answers.

“Why would I call you?” he asked, his voice taunting. “You’ve said more than once that you’re not claiming her. She handled the situation just fine on her own—tough little thing.”

“We’ve always protected her,” I protested. “We need to send a fucking message.”

Boonie’s eyes hardened.

“We’ve kept an eye on her, sure,” he said. “But she’s not club property. You want us to treat her like an old lady, claim her. Shit or get off the pot.”

I wanted to protest. Punch him, or argue, or even just tell him to fuck off. My president stared at me blandly, because he was right and we both knew it. She wasn’t mine. Would the club still protect Becca? Absolutely. We’d protect anyone in Callup if we had to . . . But she’d protected herself last night and there’d been no direct insult to the Bastards.

“Claim her or let her go,” Boonie added, his voice deadly serious. “This halfway shit doesn’t cut it. We all heard her at the Moose. Either what she said works for you or it doesn’t. Ball’s in your court.”

I glared at him, because he was right. I was still frustrated with her, though. She fucked with my head, something I’d had ample time to consider while savoring my scrounged cigarette last night before pulling out of the parking lot.