When she pauses, a pang stabs me in the chest because I know exactly what she’s going to say. I can’t believe I managed to forget this year. Whitney opens her mouth to keep speaking, but a redheaded biker chick stops beside her.
“I know who you are. Thought I was dreaming. But you’re the bitch who killed Ricky Rango.” She waves to a guy in a black leather vest. “Bruno. It’s her! Whitney Rango!”
For fuck’s sake.
The woman gets in Whitney’s face, and I step around her and move Whitney behind me without touching the woman.
“I’m going to ask you once to leave her alone—”
Bruno barrels toward me. “Don’t you get in her face, motherfucker. That’s my sister.”
Fucking hell.
The last thing I want to do is get into a bar fight with a biker, but apparently fights are the only reason I come to Mo’s. That, and to see Whitney Gable.
The woman jabs her finger into my chest. “I don’t give a shit about you, asshole. My beef’s with her. She killed the legend. She should be in jail for what she did to him. So, get the fuck out of my way because I’m gonna kick her fucking ass.”
Whitney moves back, and I step away from the woman. “We’re leaving.”
Bruno shoves his sister behind him. “I got this.”
His fist comes flying toward my face. I block the first punch, conscious of the press of Whitney’s body against my back.
The woman comes charging toward my side, no doubt to get to Whitney, but Cricket grabs her arm and spins her around.
“Not today, bitch. That’s my cousin.”
Glancing at Cricket costs me. Knuckles connect with my chin, and my head snaps sideways.
Instinct kicks in as adrenaline dumps into my system. I retaliate with a combination. The biker’s head rocks back and he crashes into a tall table. The two women sitting at it screech as their drinks go flying, and he hits the floor.
Hunter lifts Cricket away from the woman who started this shit show, and Cricket uses the leverage to kick out and catch the redhead in the chest. Bruno’s sister flies backward to land on her ass in front of a group of bikers before Hunter carries Cricket out the front. The bikers stand, their attention split between Hunter and me, and it’s time to go.
I throw an arm around Whitney and hustle her out the back door just like I did last time.
46
Whitney
I tripon the step behind Mo’s, and Lincoln picks me up and jogs toward a Range Rover parked around the side. The lights flash, and he sets me down next to the passenger door before yanking it open.
“Get in.”
I scramble into the SUV and slam the door shut as he rounds the hood. Out the window, Hunter has Cricket over his shoulder as he heads for his truck. Cricket smacks his ass with every step.
Even that comical sight can’t stop reality from intruding and killing every hint of my buzz.
I’ll never get past what happened. Never. I’ll always be the woman who killed Ricky Rango, even though I didn’t do it.
All I wanted was a divorce.
Bikers spill out around the side of the bar as Lincoln throws the Range Rover into reverse.
“As much as I don’t mind defending your honor, we’re not coming back to Mo’s. That place is—”
“Cursed? Like me?” I laugh, but there’s not a bit of humor in it.
“You’re not cursed.”