Start a War (Saint View Psychos #1)(22)

I spun around to find Rebel standing with a tray of drinks resting on her jutted-out hip. She grinned at me, her many ear piercings shining in the natural light. Her pixie haircut was adorable, and her eyes looked huge, edged with dark makeup. She wore more clothes today, her skirt still short, but her shirt covered her breasts and belly. Doc Martens were laced up her calves. It was a distinct downgrade in sexiness than the piece she’d worn on Sunday night, but even still, it was a world away from the conservative blouse and slacks I’d chosen for the day.

I gave the woman a tentative smile and raised my hand in a half wave, grateful at least for her smiling face. “Hi. Yes. Me again.”

“Minus the ball gown.”

I smoothed my hands down over my shirt and laughed awkwardly. “Uh, yes. They aren’t exactly my everyday attire.”

“They’re my never day attire, so you still got me beat. Looked good on you though. I’d wear ball gowns all day every day if I had the tits to pull them off.” She gestured at her quite flat chest. “But as you can see, the big guy upstairs did not bless me in that department.”

“Who needs tits when you got booty!” one of the guys yelled from the table nearby, who had clearly been eavesdropping on our conversation.

Warmth heated my cheeks. I was embarrassed to have been overheard, but Rebel grinned at the older man with a long gray beard and pumped her fist in the air. “Damn straight! You know where it’s at!”

She shook her hips, and the old man gave her a genuinely warm smile, which she returned easily.

She leaned in close to my ear. “That’s Gunner. He’s here every day. Sweet old bugger. Tries to play it cool for his biker buddies, but I know he’s got a couple of little grandkids who he loves more than life itself. If you get him alone, he’ll show you pictures of them and tell you all about how they can count to fucking five. Nobody cares, but we listen and say nice things anyway.”

I could picture it. The man did seem a bit like a giant teddy bear with his broad shoulders and rounded belly. A teddy bear who could potentially pull a gun or a knife on you at any minute, of course, but I’m sure he saved that for when the grandkids weren’t around.

Rebel nudged me with her elbow, drawing my attention back to her. Her face had sobered. “Hey, uh…I’m…” Her tough-girl, punk-princess exterior wobbled for a second, and she pressed white teeth into her bottom lip while she composed herself. “I’m really sorry about your brother. He was one of the good ones.”

My eyes instantly filled with tears at her assessment of him. I’d always known it, despite what the cops thought, but it meant something to me that other people had as well. There weren’t many good ones in Saint View, but Axel had absolutely been one of them. Whatever he’d gotten himself into in the last few years, he’d always be the brother who’d saved me even when he couldn’t save himself.

I nodded at Rebel, and the both of us stared at each other while we tried to fight back tears. She recovered quicker than I did and clutched my arm, digging her long, painted fingernails into my skin. The bite of pain shocked the urge to cry out of me, giving me something else to focus on.

“Sorry.” She released my arm and dropped her voice low enough that the guys around us wouldn’t hear over the drone of the television. “Can’t cry in here, even over Axel. You show them any sign of weakness, and that’ll be the end of you.” She shifted the drink tray back to both arms. “If you’re going to run this joint, you gotta earn their respect.”

Her words were a sucker punch to my stomach. “If I’m—wait, what?”

But Rebel was already sashaying away to deliver her drinks, leaving me gaping after her.

Run the joint?

I turned stiffly.

Nash stood behind the bar, watching me carefully. I hadn’t even noticed him until then. My gaze met his, and he cocked his head to one side. He motioned me over to him with a wriggle of two fingers.

I went.

He leaned forward, elbows on the bar top as I approached.

“Figured you’d be back.”

“You did?”

“You do own the place now.”

The shock was less this time, now that I’d heard it twice. “Does everybody but me know that?”

Nash’s forehead furrowed. “What do you mean? Isn’t that why you’re here? The lawyer spoke to you, right? He was here yesterday, asking for you.”

“Only if the lawyer makes house calls in the middle of the night and delivers the contents of wills while pinning you to the bed by your throat.”

Nash blanched and reared back. “What the fuck, Bliss?”

I hadn’t meant to say that. Those damn tears threatened to spill over once more. I blinked hard, willing them away. I’d heard Rebel’s warning, but besides that, I was so tired of crying.

Nash took one look at my watering eyes though, and jumped the bar, landing on his feet in front of me. He put a finger beneath my chin and tilted it up, his gaze searching my face.

I hadn’t come here to spill everything to him. I’d come for answers, but just like he’d been when I was a kid, Nash was a safe haven. Even still, Rebel was right. I needed to grow a backbone. I’d cried more in the past three days than I had in years. It had to stop.

If I numbed everything out, then I wouldn’t have to feel it.