Big Daddy by Alexis Abbott

Author:Alexis Abbott [Abbott, Alexis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pathforgers Publishing

The smells of rich wood furnishings, frothing beers, and fried food fills our noses as we step into the English-style pub on the edge of Cheyenne where we agreed to hold our meeting. Breaker is at my side as both of us stride confidently into the restaurant, through the charming and inviting wood interiors and the crackling fire in the back.

“Nice ambience,” Breaker says, and I chuckle.

Juliette is outside with Bones, who isn’t officially part of this meeting. They’re here in case Diesel demands proof that Juliette is alive, and if we’re going to make a convincing case that she’s here willingly, she needs to be here in person.

I damn sure hope she hasn’t had a sudden change of heart between then and now, because she could ruin this whole meeting if she wants to. But she has to know this is for the best. I have faith in her that she’ll make the right choice, if it crosses her mind.

It doesn’t take us long to see a pair of familiar faces across the pub, but we don’t slow down as we stare each other down on our way to where they’re sitting.

Diesel and his officer Chainlink look almost too much like the way we last saw them, in the heat of battle outside the mine. I remember Ironside giving Diesel a parting gift to the chest before he escaped that battle with his tail between his legs. It is tempting to bring that up, but regardless, I’m surprised how well he’s hiding his injury. He either heals fast, or he’s forcing himself to put on a tough face.

The president of an MC like the Buzzsaws is always in a precarious position. He goes out of his way to draw the meanest motherfuckers from here to the Rockies, and keeping those kinds of guys in control is a challenge. I notice he’s wearing a thick shirt that covers all the skin on his torso under his kutte. To be fair, it’s cold out, but I can’t help but wonder how Diesel is holding up under the surface.

For now, that surface is putting on a mean fucking face. He’s glaring daggers at me from the moment we make eye contact, and there are no smiles on their faces as we take our seats across from them. There are already a couple of pints in front of them, and the server showed up before we so much as spoke to each other.

“Two stouts,” Breaker says to the server, holding up two fingers. “Don’t care what kind. Thanks.”

The server seems to get the message that we’re a private table, and after he brings our drinks, we’re left alone.

“You looked better down the sights of a pistol,” Breaker says, leaning back in his chair and smirking.

“You looked better fumbling to get a shot at me,” Diesel grunts back, cracking a cruel smile at the corner of his mouth. “And I’d love to return the favor, so let’s cut the bullshit. Why are you fucking

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