muttering, "I'm a temp."
"Then you’ve got one, a bunch of different ones as a matter of fact. Now look, all that other shit aside from what I just mentioned has no goddamn concern to me whatsoever ‘cause it's not my goddamn problem, alright?" He spun away from me and headed back over to the door. "This is your goddamn life now," he said. "If you'd have kept your fuckin' mouth shut about that piece of cloth and the goddamn fire, you wouldn't be stuck with the possibility of seein' bitches paradin' in and outta here with their tits and asses hangin' out and motherfuckers who like bein' sucked off out in the open. We'll shield your kid from that shit as best as we can, but I'm not the kind of motherfucker who makes a promise he can't keep."
"So you're not making one at all, is that it?"
"That's it."
He took one last look at me before stepping outside and leaving me completely alone with my thoughts. My thoughts, my thoughts, my stupid, stupid thoughts; the same ones that pushed me into coming here and forced me into regret the minute I first opened my mouth.
What the hell was I thinking? I assumed if he was willing to help me at all that he would want me nearby, but moving here just mere hours after telling him so? And not only to Crescent Beach, but expecting me to stay in a den of sin with my child? Pussy parties. Club whores. Guns and booze, maybe even drugs all out in the open for her to see. And it's clear that he's not comfortable around someone like me as much as he might like to think he is.
But River Hawkins is my only way out of a life encased by fear.
“Damn it.” The truth of that statement plagued my mind to the point of producing a full on headache, one I was all too eager to get rid of. I eyed the liquor with reverence but frowned in knowing the consequences. I shook my head anyway and sighed. “Screw it.”
I slid my purse across the counter, reached over the bar for that opened bottle of tequila, poured until it spilled over the shot glass and drank it back too quick to regret it.
This man is my only chance of survival.
I moaned while pouring another glass, and then another, and then another until I felt the sensible parts of my brain going so far numb they felt like rubber. And as that liquor burned the back of my throat and settled right into my belly, I figured that being stuck inside the club for God only knew how long, was my punishment for being a completely shitty person in a previous life. Given the current set of circumstances surrounding me, there had to be absolutely no damn doubt about it.
Chapter Four
River stepped outside and found Blue near the garage and leaning on his bike, while mumbling what sounded like ‘sweet nothings’ into the ear of some random bitch in his phone.
He walked over and slapped him on the back.
Blue whipped his head around and nodded up at him. "Lem’me call you back," he said to the person on the other end of the line. He snapped his phone shut before the person could respond, and tossed it inside the pocket of his Shadow Riders jacket. "'Sup, brother?" He gave River a quick hug and pat on the back.
"Too much for bein' so early in the fuckin’ mornin'," he replied through a snarl. “That’s for goddamn sure.”
Blue pulled back from him and laughed. "Shit, that bitch from last night already givin' you trouble, motherfucker? And none of the good kind?" He dropped back and ripped a pack of cigarettes from a pocket sewn into the seat of his bike.
"Yeah, but she's not the only bitch I've got crawlin' up my ass and makin' a goddamn home for herself inside there."
"Verna?"
River glared. "Not exactly. But about that bitch from last night, how the fuck old was her friend that you spent most of the time fuckin'?"
Blue shrugged. "I don't even fuckin' know, brother. But did you see the size of those goddamn tits?" He sucked on his bottom lip remembering exactly how each one tasted on his tongue and whipped out his lighter. " Shit . And that fat