"What the fuck?" Ricky snarled.
"That's--" James began.
"No, really, what the fuck."
Ricky bore down, and I ran to stop him. I didn't need to. He pulled himself up before he was within striking distance.
"You--" Ricky began.
"I don't think we've met," James said. "It's a little awkward, admittedly, exchanging introductions right after I catch you screwing my fiancee."
"She's not--" Ricky bit it off, knowing it would do no good. "You followed her here."
"No, I was driving by as you walked out of the diner. I pulled in to talk--"
"You stalked her." Ricky moved forward now, his body still tense but his temper reined in. "You followed us, and then you waited through our meal to waylay us out here. Do you know what that is? Pathetic. Also? Damned dangerous to your health, because the next time I catch you within twenty yards of Olivia--"
"Enough. Liv's gotten what she needed from you. You can run along now."
"I'm sure it makes you feel better to dismiss me--"
"But I do dismiss you. You're stud service, Gallagher. Nothing more. As you may have noticed, our Liv likes sex. You're certainly not the first guy she's had her back to the wall for."
"Then I should thank them for giving her the practice. It definitely paid off."
It took James a few seconds to regroup. "You can joke, but I bet you still think it makes you special, getting dragged back here."
"It wasn't actually dragging . . ." Ricky said.
"Yeah," I said. "Kinda was."
Ricky chuckled. I wasn't helping matters, but it made Ricky relax, any danger of this coming to blows fading. That was, I presumed, what James wanted--to provoke Ricky into hitting him so he could call the cops.
"Now, as entertaining as this has been," I said, "I need to get to work."
James tried to step in front of me, but Ricky moved into the gap between us.
"Back off," Ricky said. "I've already warned you--"
"And I've already said I'm not concerned, Richard. Or is it Rick? I've heard Ricky, but I'm sure that's a mistake. It's bad enough that Olivia's seeing a college boy almost three years her junior. If you go by a moniker as juvenile as Ricky . . ." The corners of James's mouth twitched. "That'd be almost too good to be true."
"It is Ricky. Not Richard. Not Rick. But I'm not expecting you'll have any occasion to use it, because if I see you near Olivia--"
"You're a boy." James moved to stand toe-to-toe with him. "A child who fancies himself a biker. You have the jacket and the Harley, but you aren't fooling anyone. You're far too pretty to be dangerous, Ricky. The son of a notorious gang leader, and you've never even been arrested. That makes you the worst kind of bad boy. A fake one."
"Maybe. Come after Liv again and we'll test your theory." Ricky put his arm around my waist. "If you'll excuse us, I need to get someone to work or her boss will kill me. He's definitely the real deal." He lowered his voice as we passed. "And right now, he's really kinda pissed with you."
CHAPTER NINE
I am so sorry," I said as we dismounted outside Gabriel's office.
"For what?"
"Umm . . . my crazy ex ambushing us having sex and proceeding to insult you."
Ricky took my helmet and fastened it to the bike. "His craziness has nothing to do with you. Admittedly, I can imagine that a guy would not be pleased if you left him, and I could certainly understand that he'd want to get you back. But that means doing his damnedest to woo you back and, if that fails, taking the hint and parting amicably. Stalking you and sending armed deprogrammers doesn't say, 'I love you.' It says, 'I'm a psycho son of a bitch.'"
"He wasn't always like that."