Page 82 of Not So Goode

“Me either.”

The bartender’s eyes whipped to mine. “Crow?”

I nodded. “That’s me.”

“You’re patched in with the AzTex? Any relation to Coyote Crow?”

“My dad.”

He scrubbed his hair with one hand. “Coyote saved my ass, years back. Used to live in Flagstaff. Had my back against a wall, some meatheads making trouble. Coyote waded in, just because he felt like ten on one wasn’t fair odds.”

I nodded. “Sounds like Dad.” Extended my hand to him. “Crow.”

He shook my hand with a firm but easy grip. “Leif Bjornsson.” He said itLeyf BYORN-son.

“Thanks, Leif,” I said.

“Sure thing. Anything for Coyote’s family.”

I reached out, brushed my thumb against Charlie’s cheek. “Be back soon.”

“You’d better be.”

I straightened my back, tilted my chin up, and left Crow the lover and nice guy back there with Charlie. I moved toward them, slow, limbs feeling liquid. I counted—eight? Maybe ten guys.

I waded through the ring of trucks, and stood in the middle, next to my bike, arms at my sides.

“Gonna take that cut off you and send you home in bag, wrapped in it,” a deep voice said. Yak.

“Can you read?” I snarled. “You know the name. You sure you wanna do this?”

He prowled out from between a truck and a big tricked-out Harley. “Your little bitch disrespected me.”

“My old lady showed you she wasn’t anyone to fuck with. You got what you deserved.” I pivoted in a slow circle. Eight, nine…ten. Eleven. Felt a flutter of nerves. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Yeah, we do.” Yak smirked. “She’s gonna watch us turn you into hamburger, and then I’m gonna have a whole hell of a lotta fun teaching that sweet little pussy a long, hard lesson.”

Good thing for me I know how to hold my temper. He wanted me to charge him. I was seeing red, but I knew how to wait.

“You’re gonna regret those words.” I forced myself to sound cool, unconcerned.

I was, though—concerned, I mean. Eleven was a lot.

And they looked mean.

I had a collapsible baton in my saddlebags, and normally I prided myself on being able to handle myself without needing a weapon, but with eleven on one, it seemed like a prudent time to even the odds a little.

I was leaning on the saddle and slipped my hand into the saddlebag, moving by feel. Found it, withdrew it. Six inches long collapsed, with a single flick of my wrist, it would extend to twenty-five inches of heat-treated steel, with a lead weight at the tip, for counterbalance…and bone snapping.

I held it in one hand, collapsed and faced Yak. “Gonna take me all at once, or one by one?”

He just grinned, ugly, evil. “Got yourself a little toy, do you? Fine. Let’s do this.”

He stepped toward me. Reared up to his full height, swelling his chest to look even bigger. He had a nasty grin on his fat ugly face, like he was about to have fun.

Joke’s on him. I don’t play games.

“Last warning, Yak-face. You and your buddies fuck off while you can still walk on your own two feet.” I restrained the urge to charge, and to bury my fist in his nose. “I ain’t gonna be nice about this.”