Page 3

Chapter Three

S kippy sat on the stool at Draco's bar in town, waiting for Mitchell to show up. They were supposed to have lunch, but Mitchell got tied up with Seryn. Or so he'd said. The tied-up part of the explanation might have been literal.

It wasn't a hardship to sit and have a beer. The biggest issue was Draco didn't have dragonshine. What they had was a dragon shifter beer, legally made. It was sort of blah compared to the stuff Ronin made, but it was still okay tasting.

The atmosphere in Draco's was always fairly contained compared to the club. The club had been a lot better since they vetted people at the door. They still needed another way to party with strangers. Someone from one of the local MC gangs could still infiltrate them without much of a problem. Things had quieted down a lot, especially after the Chained Devils dispersed. Having another of their enemies slip right under their nose and into the club as though they owned the place had been a lesson they still hadn't learned from. Which meant it was a matter of time before it happened again. Skippy wanted to discuss the issue away from the club.

The problem with talking at Draco’s was the lack of a sense of responsibility toward others. They relied on law enforcement. The sheriff and his department were three people. It wasn’t like they had the resources to post someone at the door. The owner of Draco's didn't prevent destructive behavior the way the Dragon Skulls did. So, it should be up to everyone to keep each other safe, but Draco’s was like most of the world. Which meant it was up to Skippy to keep an eye out for everyone.

Maybe Skippy's judge, jury, and executioner style of administering justice wasn't the best way, but it got the job done a lot faster than the law could.

When Mitchell walked in, no one in the bar except for Skippy paid much attention. If he were a stranger, he might have garnered a look or two, especially since he was human and not a dragon shifter or a vampire like everyone else. But he'd been around town enough that he'd lost his stranger status and had moved firmly into the outsider category. At least he was an outsider to the Wingspan clan. But he wasn't one to the Dragon Skulls. He even wore his cut, which was a huge thing for anyone to do in Wingspan's local bar. Dragon Skulls still had a bad reputation in town. Alpha becoming a member had helped a little, but everyone still separated him from the rest of the Skulls. In their minds, the alpha was going through a phase.

Mitchell sat next to him and pointed to the bottle in Skippy's hand before holding up two fingers.

"Just so you know, I've never left this building without handcuffs on." Skippy grinned. It wasn't something he was proud of, exactly. He'd always had a good reason for starting the fight. There had been a couple of instances where someone had picked a fight with him instead of the other way around.

Mitchell chuckled. "I can see that bothers you a lot."

Skippy smirked.

"So." Mitchell turned toward Skippy. "Why am I here?"

"Because the burgers are good and I'm hungry."

"Not why are we here? In this bar. But why did you ask me to lunch? You never have before." Sheesh, Mitchell was an untrusting dick.

Skippy sighed. "I know what you meant. I was fucking with you."

The bartender brought two bottles over to them. “Don’t fuck up my bar again, Skip.”

“Don’t let assholes inside and I won’t.” Skippy raised his eyebrows, wanting him to argue the point.

The bartender huffed and walked to the woman at the other end of the bar, who swirled brown liquor in her glass even as she stared into it.

Skippy took a swig of his beer before addressing Mitchell. "You can be a little more trusting, you know. Your mate is my best fucking friend, man."

The muscles in Mitchell's jaw jumped. "I'm still getting used to having people I can trust who aren't my brother. Never had a family beside him."

"Well, you got one now, so chill the fuck out."

"Right. Okay. I'll try." Mitchell winced. "Seryn keeps telling me the same thing."

Skippy rolled his eyes. "Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?"

Mitchell glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"If there's anyone who needs to learn he doesn't have to do shit alone and can ask for help when he needs it, it's Seryn. You know that better than anyone."

Mitchell relaxed. Skippy hadn't realized how tense Mitchell was until it went out of his shoulders. "You know what? You're right. That's a great arguing point. Thanks."

"Don't tell him I'm the one who gave it to you." Skippy might like to fight, but not with Seryn. "He's one of the few who can kick my ass, man."

Mitchell chuckled as if he thought Skippy was joking. He wasn't, but he didn't want to talk about it anymore, so he changed the subject. "You know how we charge for admission at the club now?"

Mitchell frowned, as if the subject change confused him. "Yeah."

"And how that dick Izzy fucked around with was planted there by some fuckwad?"

Mitchell sighed. "Get to the point."

"My point is we need a better way to vet the people who enter. I figured you might have some ideas."

"Why'd you figure that?"

"Because you planted Jude into our club, and he fell under our radar."

"That's because Daruss fell hard and fast for him. And I didn't plant him. I didn't want anything from the Dragon Skulls besides protection for my little brother. Terrell Gibbs was a nightmare."

Skippy knew better than Mitchell how dangerous Terrell had been for Jude. Mitchell hadn’t been around to rescue Jude. He hadn’t seen Jude’s swollen face. Every inch had been bruised.

Skippy shrugged. "The primary goal is to keep people safe while they're inside. The Dragon Skulls have always been a haven. We'd like to keep it that way."

Mitchell seemed to contemplate Skippy's explanation. "So, it's not about protecting the Dragon Skulls' interests?"

Skippy shook his head. "What interests? Most of the guys have legitimate jobs, me included.” Minus getting paid to kill and maim the bastards who deserved it. “Those who don't, get paid to rescue people. Ronin and a couple of others are the only ones who don’t, and they make dragonshine. They’re not into the really illegal stuff."

Skippy’s attention was drawn to four people sitting in a booth. There was a woman sitting with a man on each side of the table. One of the men grabbed at the woman’s arm. She shied away from him as if she didn't want him to touch her. She sat on the edge of the booth. She could scoot out if she wanted. Skippy wasn’t sure why she didn’t but it was clear she was scared of the man she sat next too. Possibly the one across the table from her too.

Mitchell noticed them too.

Anyone would assume they were just two couples having lunch, but something seemed off. They weren’t dragon shifters, for one. They weren’t big or green-eyed. They didn’t smell like clan. They smelled…feline.

One woman shook her head at the other, as if warning her away from doing something drastic. One man told the women not to look at each other. When the bigger woman sneered, she got a punch to the gut for it.

If Skippy hadn’t been low-key watching them, he might have missed the punch. “To be continued,” he whispered to Mitchell but he shouldn’t have bothered because Mitchell stood when Skippy did.

The woman slumped over the table as she clutched her gut. The other put a hand over her mouth. When she made a sound, the guy next to her told her to shut her fucking mouth.

Skippy made his way across the room and to their table.

“He fucking sucker punched her,” Mitchell growled every word. For a human, his growl was impressive.

Skippy grinned as he braced himself with his hands on the table. He purposefully shifted his eyes.

"What the fuck do you want?" One of the guys said. He shifted his eyes, too.

"What I want is to level the playing field." Skippy grabbed the guy’s shirt and pulled him from the booth. He threw him into the middle of the room. The guy landed on a table, breaking it, and a chair as he fell onto his back.

The other bar patrons scrambled to move out of the way. But the bartender said, “Damn it, Skip.”

He held out his hand to the woman who’d been blocked in the booth, wanting her away from the man who’d been sitting next to her, but was now cowering under the table.

She hesitated, but took his hand and scooted out of the booth. The bigger woman came out of the booth slowly, still clutching her middle. She pulled the other woman to her and held her close. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Are you?”

“I’ll live, sweetheart.” She kissed her cheek.

Mitchell grabbed the guy under the table by his foot, which was probably the first thing he could reach, and pulled him out. The man kicked and cursed. Mitchell dragged him over to Skippy. “Have fun before the sheriff gets here.”

Skippy picked him up by his jacket and threw him toward the other guy.

"Show off," Mitchell smirked.

“Stop fucking up my bar, dickhead.” The bartender yelled.

Skippy chuckled.

One of the guys stood and fisted his hands, putting them up as if ready to defend himself.

“I called the sheriff,” the bartender yelled.

Skippy met Mitchell's gaze. "We better get started then."

Mitchell grinned and cracked his knuckles before making the first move. His opponent backed up as soon as Mitchell came toward him. But Mitchell didn’t back down.

Mitchell landed a punch hard enough to send the shifter on his ass. Mitchell shook his hand, flexing his fingers. "Ow. Fuck, that hurt."

Skippy chuckled. "Is Seryn making you soft, human?"

"Probably. And also, his fucking face is hard."

Skippy was the one who threw the first punch. He landed one across the jaw, sending his opponent reeling. The guy righted himself quicker than Skippy expected, and landed a punch into Skippy’s gut. But he was expecting it, so the blow didn’t have the desired effect.

The next blow made him taste blood. It pissed Skippy off enough to get him to stop fucking with the guy. He landed a punch so hard his opponent landed on his ass.

Mitchell scowled when the guy tried to stumble to his feet. "Stay down, you idiot."

Skippy wiggled his fingers. "Nah, man. Get up. Let's go again."

But he was smarter than he looked and stayed on the floor.

The physical exertion was just what Skippy needed.

"You're paying for the fucking table and chair, Skip." The bartender's eyes were reptilian. He'd never been angrier.

"I heard you the first time."

"I'm sending you the fucking bill, dickhead."

"While you're at it, can we get our burgers to go?"

Mercury and his mate walked in. "Make those four burgers to go. I'll send someone over to pick them up."

The bartender nodded. "You got it, Merc." The bartender scowled as he met Skippy's gaze. "I'm gonna start charging a door fee every time you walk into my bar."

Skippy shrugged. He put his hands behind his back without being asked when Mercury's little mate came at him with handcuffs.

The women walked up to them. They held hands and clung to each other. "You can't arrest them, deputy. They were helping us."

"Are you okay? Do you need a safe place to go?" The least Skippy could do was find out what was actually going on with them and the men. Asking questions was something he should have done first, but he’d always done that after the fighting was over.

"Jacob is my brother. He didn't want us to mate, so he got his shitty friend to help him." She had a Southern accent.

"Are you passing through?"

"We're from the Garrison Clan a day’s drive south of here. Our clan is accepting. It's just my brother who isn't."

Mercury scowled. "Did he take you against your will, ma'am?"

"Both of us."

Mercury already had the men in handcuffs. He turned to Skippy. "You two are still being held. I'll call Gavin to bail you out when I'm ready. You do this way too much, Skippy."

Skippy grinned. "You heard her. I helped."

"Stop fucking up the bar with your brand of helping and I might stop arresting you."

"But I do it so well." Skippy grinned. At least he wasn't drunk on dragonshine this time. He turned to the women. "If you need a safe place, go to the Dragon Skulls clubhouse. Tell Daruss I sent you."

"Thank you so much. You saved our lives. He would have killed us, eventually." She wanted to hug him but hesitated. Probably because his hands were cuffed behind his back and his shirt was cut and had blood on it. But she seemed to get over it and leaned in. She whispered, "What if he comes after us?"

Skippy walked over to the men. The fact that Mercury let him said a lot about what he thought of the men. "You better hope you get a lot of prison time because if you don't, and you get within a hundred miles of my new friends, I'll end your life. And no matter where you go, I'll be watching you."

“We’ll get less jail time than you, asshole.” He was probably right, but Skippy still head-butted him.

Blood gushed from his nose.

“Damn it. Now there’s blood on my floor.” The bartender bitched.

Mercury shook his head.

Skippy winked at the women as Mercury and his mate were leading him out of the bar. "They'll be safe now," he said to Mitchell.

"Seryn says he'll help them and he'll bail us out, but he'll make us wait most likely. He's pissed at me for getting arrested." Mitchell winced.

"Tell him Gavin will come get you. But you're both going to sit in a cell for a while."

"And think about what we've done," Skippy chuckled.

Mercury growled. "I don’t give a shit what you think about, asshole. It’s so I won't have to deal with your shit for a while."

But he felt better. All the pent-up energy he had floating around inside his body was gone. Physical activity helped him when he got like that. Usually, he'd either fuck or fight, whichever came first.

Seryn was right. Waiting for his mate just because everyone was coupling up, and it seemed like it would be his turn, wasn't a smart idea. There was no guarantee he'd find his mate, for one. And the other reason was not fucking left only fighting on the table. He'd be in a cell a lot if he kept up his resolve.