But one very big difference—the Chrome Disciples patch on each of their cuts.
The one-percenter patch also caught her eyes. Same as the Handlers wore. But there were rules, an outlaw code of conduct, so to speak. And a biggie was not wearing colors in another MC’s territory. To do so was considered an aggressive move. A show of force.
A shiver raced down Shell’s spine. Copper was going to lose his shit.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen, we’ve been closed for a few hours,” Toni said, voice steady despite her rapid blinking and rigid posture. “You’re welcome to a delicious breakfast if you come back tomorrow during business hours.”
When our men are here.
The unspoken words hung thick in the air.
Shell didn’t dare move, terrified of drawing the attention of the other two bikers.
One of the men, the ringleader with an enforcer patch and a crooked Santa hat made his way to their table. Light brown, wavy hair hung from below the hat, reaching his shoulders. The biker had a nose that looked like it’d taken one too many hits in the past. His eyes, nearly the exact same color as his hair, danced with how much he enjoyed taking them by surprise. “Huh, would you look at this,” he said with a smirk. “Ho…ho…ho…” His gaze landed on each one of the women as he spoke.
Clever.
“Ain’t hungry. Why don’t you scoot over, sweetheart,” he said, placing a hand on Shell’s shoulder. She fought the urge to shove his long, dirty-nailed fingers off her.
Swallowing, she caught Stephanie’s eye. Her friend gave the subtlest of nods, so Shell scooted to the very inside of the booth, losing his touch in the process. Her heart pounded, and her eyes fixated on Beth who’d crawled under the table she’d been sitting at as though inherently sensing danger. So far, her daughter remained quiet, and the bikers hadn’t noticed her.
Thank God.
“The name’s Crank,” he said.
“There something you need?” Steph asked in a frosty tone.
Either she was really good at hiding her fear, or she was some kind of superhero, but she didn’t seem scared at all, while Shell could barely stand to be in her own skin at the moment.
One of Crank’s eyebrows took a slow climb into his forehead, and his face split into a grin. “Now is that any way to welcome newcomers to your town, blondie?” he asked. “Don’t need nothing. Just came in to check the place out, seeing as we’re new around here and all.”
Steph cocked her head. The woman had balls, Shell would give her that. Thank God, Izzy wasn’t there. She’d have been rip-shit pissed and was still unable to battle things out with her fists as she’d like to.
“You know you’re in Hell’s Handlers territory?” Steph asked.
Crank snapped his fingers as though a light bulb had just gone off in his mind. “You know, I had heard something about that. And I heard this place is run by one of their ol’ ladies. Guess that’d be you, huh?” he said, shifting his creepy gaze to Toni.
When she did nothing more than stare him down, Crank looked between Shell and Steph. “You two club property as well?”
Shell followed Toni’s lead, leaving her mouth firmly clamped. If she tried to speak, her voice would probably come out as a terrified squeak. Keeping her gaze off Beth proved near impossible, but she didn’t want Crank to follow her line of sight with his own eyes. His two buddies stood next to their booth but had their backs to Beth and hadn’t noticed her yet. They needed to keep it that way.
“All right, I can see you’re not chatty bitches, so let me just lay shit out for ya. I’m looking for your president. Got some shit to discuss with him. Don’t suppose one of you bitches belong to him?”
A cold wave of fear washed over Shell. This time, when she caught Steph’s gaze, the unspoken keep your mouth shut, came through loud and clear. Christ, what would this guy do if he knew he not only had access to the president’s ol’ lady but his kid as well? She swallowed a painful lump in her throat.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Steph said with a shrug. God, the woman was cool as a freaking cucumber. “You’ll have to find him on your own.”
“Too bad,” he said, snagging the rest of Stephanie’s muffin off the small plate. “Mmm, yummy. Maybe we will be back tomorrow.” With that, he stood and stepped out of the booth, following his buddies who were already near the door. “Well, who’s this?” he said as his attention landed on Beth.
“No!” Shell shot out of the booth, as did Stephanie. Steph grabbed her shirt and yanked her back. Acting on pure maternal instinct, Shell immediately began to struggle against her friend’s hold. The need to have Beth in her arms felt like a beast inside her clawing its way out.