𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐬

CHAPTER THREE - THE LOOKER

Minerva

I stopped by the biker's table, putting down the beers requested.

"Thanks, kiddo," the biker with a fresh refill smiled, tilting his heavily bearded chin in a nod.

The biker, a.k.a. Welder, the vice-president of The Jackals, saw me as a child, despite him being seven year older than me. It irked me being called a kid almost as much as being called 'sweetcheeks'. Fortunately for him, I considered him and some of the other members... friends. More or less. I was still debating on how to use that beer to get the nickname out of his vocabulary...

"You good?"

"Mm?"

He leveled me with a pair of smart, brown eyes. "You look like you 'bout to hit me."

The prospect, Bruise, snickered under his breath. The others, on the other hand, remained quiet, exchanging wary glances. Except for Animal. Of course, the fucker was sporting a grin, as the typical sociopath would. They've witnessed my lid pop enough times to know the guy wasn't kidding, and Animal was getting off on it.

"I'm not." Ignoring their stares, I grabbed the empty glasses. "Anything else I can bring you?"

Welder lowered the beer from his lips, ringed fingers tapping the mahogany surface. "We're good." There was a pause, then, "Are you... good?"

For a moment, I considered snapping his neck on the spot. I was livid with Joey—again—but couldn't take it out on her. I couldn't take it out on my clients either, if I wanted to still have clients. Although, I would've liked not having customers who had to use nicknames to address me instead of using my fucking name.

Drawing in a deep breath, I pulled a chair from an empty table and sat down with them. "I'm not good, but you don't wanna listen to my bullshit, so I'm fine."

Kind eyes took me in, a murmur brushing his beard. "You sure?"

As scary as he looked in his bulkier size, with tattoos, accessories, leathers and a military buzz to the full beard, the guy was a teddy bear at heart. As much of a teddy bear as he could be until poked. Then he'd become the big, scary bear people were actually afraid of. That golden heart of his I knew to trust almost as well as my own gut, which was what I needed to calm down a little.

Just a little.

"Yeah, I just need to unwind." I downed a shot from the tray. "Anything new with your club? I hear you got in a messy brawl with those freaks up north, what was their name again?"

"Blazing Bandits," Animal answered. "They've been up our asses for a while."

I shuddered, shaking my head. "Damn, what a name. Who came up with that felony?"

"Probably a felon."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Most motorcycle clubs in the area were formed by criminals or outcasts, it depended. Each had their stories, each had a past to run from, each had problems. Must've explained why I felt so at peace around them. I could relate to them.

"They burned one of our warehouses," Bruise muttered. Welder glared his way, the fierce look enough to make the kid cower.

I didn't think I was supposed to know that. "How're the ol' ladies?"