this because he and the guy ended up wearing both pitchers of beer, and the glasses shattered on the floor.
And just like that, as if they were in some cheap-ass movie, Analisa got what she wanted. She was a skinny, sick girl in the middle of a biker bar brawl. Jesus fucking Christ.
The guy Nolan had backed into shook off the beer and then took a massive swing. Nolan ducked to the side, but still got caught hard in the ribs, losing his breath. He did not want to be throwing punches right now, right here.
Brawling was fine. Havoc had loved a good brawl. Nolan didn’t share that enthusiasm, but he didn’t mind some recreational punching. He also knew that most of this brawl would be exactly that—men, and women, taking advantage of the chaos to have some fun.
But he needed to get Analisa the hell out of here. He was furious and afraid, and he still couldn’t believe she’d actually done what she’d done. His only interest now was in getting her safely clear of the place.
But before he could get to her, a guy, not wearing a kutte, grabbed at her. She turned and punched him, catching his arm.
And the guy punched her back. Nolan vaulted over the fallen man between him and them and pushed her behind him, as gently as he could. The guy who’d punched her was bigger than he was—taller and broader both. But he was soft; Nolan could see it in his face. Nolan was not soft. He charged and threw his whole body, shoulder first, into the guy’s midsection, driving him backward into a table. And then he got down to the business of breaking the face of the asshole who’d hit a girl.
~oOo~
Police lights flashed all around them, strobing the night sky. Nolan sat on the ground, his hands tied behind his back with a zip tie. He reeked of beer. Analisa sat next to him, in the same condition. Around them, a dozen or so others were languishing likewise. Waiting for a paddy wagon.
Awesome.
He’d never been arrested before. Despite the things he’d done, he’d stayed clear of the law. Killing, he’d gotten away with. Running drugs, some theft. Assorted other sins and infractions. All clear. But being nice to a rich, sick girl had landed him here, his shoulders aching, gravel digging into his ass, his eye swelling shut.
Just awesome.
Analisa looked perfectly happy. Well, sure. She’d gotten what she wanted.
“Why is a fucking bar brawl on your list?” He heard the anger in his voice, but he didn’t care. He was angry. She should know it.
But she fucking grinned back at him. “I want to be bad. I never got a chance to be bad. I was sick before it occurred to me to rebel. Plus, my dad is annoyingly great. My mom was, too. It’s hard to be bad in a family like mine.”
“And you thought a brawl in a biker bar was a good way to be bad?”
If anything, that grin got bigger. “They always look so awesome in the movies. I’ve seen my dad film fights, and everybody always has a great time. I thought it’d be cool.”
“You are fucking insane.”
“You’re just pouting because that guy punched you in the face—that was so cool, by the way. The way you came to my defense. Like a hero. That was the best part. I’m so glad he hit me.”
She had a shiner of her own. Nolan was beginning to think that she truly was nuts.
“But,” she went on, “I think I’m going to call ‘frisked and cuffed’ close enough to ‘arrested’ and go ahead and cross that one off my list. My arms hurt. My face hurts. I need to pee. I’d rather go home now. Officer!”
A female uniform came over. “What?”
“Can I call my dad? Or maybe you could call him?”
“You’ll get a phone call after you’re booked.”
“Yes, but I think we can fix this right here. If you check my ID again, you’ll see I live just down the road. I’m Analisa Winter.”
The cop was unimpressed. “Congratulations.”
“Behind my ID,
And just like that, as if they were in some cheap-ass movie, Analisa got what she wanted. She was a skinny, sick girl in the middle of a biker bar brawl. Jesus fucking Christ.
The guy Nolan had backed into shook off the beer and then took a massive swing. Nolan ducked to the side, but still got caught hard in the ribs, losing his breath. He did not want to be throwing punches right now, right here.
Brawling was fine. Havoc had loved a good brawl. Nolan didn’t share that enthusiasm, but he didn’t mind some recreational punching. He also knew that most of this brawl would be exactly that—men, and women, taking advantage of the chaos to have some fun.
But he needed to get Analisa the hell out of here. He was furious and afraid, and he still couldn’t believe she’d actually done what she’d done. His only interest now was in getting her safely clear of the place.
But before he could get to her, a guy, not wearing a kutte, grabbed at her. She turned and punched him, catching his arm.
And the guy punched her back. Nolan vaulted over the fallen man between him and them and pushed her behind him, as gently as he could. The guy who’d punched her was bigger than he was—taller and broader both. But he was soft; Nolan could see it in his face. Nolan was not soft. He charged and threw his whole body, shoulder first, into the guy’s midsection, driving him backward into a table. And then he got down to the business of breaking the face of the asshole who’d hit a girl.
~oOo~
Police lights flashed all around them, strobing the night sky. Nolan sat on the ground, his hands tied behind his back with a zip tie. He reeked of beer. Analisa sat next to him, in the same condition. Around them, a dozen or so others were languishing likewise. Waiting for a paddy wagon.
Awesome.
He’d never been arrested before. Despite the things he’d done, he’d stayed clear of the law. Killing, he’d gotten away with. Running drugs, some theft. Assorted other sins and infractions. All clear. But being nice to a rich, sick girl had landed him here, his shoulders aching, gravel digging into his ass, his eye swelling shut.
Just awesome.
Analisa looked perfectly happy. Well, sure. She’d gotten what she wanted.
“Why is a fucking bar brawl on your list?” He heard the anger in his voice, but he didn’t care. He was angry. She should know it.
But she fucking grinned back at him. “I want to be bad. I never got a chance to be bad. I was sick before it occurred to me to rebel. Plus, my dad is annoyingly great. My mom was, too. It’s hard to be bad in a family like mine.”
“And you thought a brawl in a biker bar was a good way to be bad?”
If anything, that grin got bigger. “They always look so awesome in the movies. I’ve seen my dad film fights, and everybody always has a great time. I thought it’d be cool.”
“You are fucking insane.”
“You’re just pouting because that guy punched you in the face—that was so cool, by the way. The way you came to my defense. Like a hero. That was the best part. I’m so glad he hit me.”
She had a shiner of her own. Nolan was beginning to think that she truly was nuts.
“But,” she went on, “I think I’m going to call ‘frisked and cuffed’ close enough to ‘arrested’ and go ahead and cross that one off my list. My arms hurt. My face hurts. I need to pee. I’d rather go home now. Officer!”
A female uniform came over. “What?”
“Can I call my dad? Or maybe you could call him?”
“You’ll get a phone call after you’re booked.”
“Yes, but I think we can fix this right here. If you check my ID again, you’ll see I live just down the road. I’m Analisa Winter.”
The cop was unimpressed. “Congratulations.”
“Behind my ID,
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