Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3) (16 page)

I grinned.

“That’s my girl,” I said, scrubbing her fur through the bars.

She lifted her head and looked at me solemnly.

“Y’all have a special bond,” Tasha praised. “What breed is she?”

I shrugged. “Belgian Malinois.”

“Mmmm,” she chattered. “My cat is a Maine Coone.”

I blinked.

“What’s that?” I asked.

She held out her hands.

“Cats that get to be about this big. I miss her,” she smiled fondly at some memory only she could see.

“I just didn’t think that Koda would do well with her…or a ferret. But we can try, if you really want to,” I conceded.

She blinked.

“I really shouldn’t be living at your place. Not until whoever is behind all of this stalking business is caught,” she informed me.

I looked at her until she blushed.

“W-what?” She stuttered.

“Do you honestly think after last night that I would, or even could, give you up?” I choked incredulously.

She shrugged.

“It’s safer for you and your family. I shouldn’t be anywhere near your sisters,” she refused stubbornly.

I shook my head.

“My sisters are both trained to protect themselves. I’ve worked with them, but it was their fathers who taught them. They can totally take care of themselves,” I told her.

Her eyes widened. “Their fathers?”

I nodded in confirmation.

“CeeCee’s father is a general in the Army. Rhea’s father is a retired Navy SEAL turned freelancer. Trust me. They know their shit, and they didn’t hold back with their kids just because they were girls,” I explained.

“Is CeeCee’s father married to your mother’s sister?” she questioned me.

I nodded. “Yes. How’d you know?”

“I sat by them at the wedding.”

“Ahhh,” I grinned. “Yes, he’s married to her sister. But it’s only fair since my mother married his brother.”

Her mouth dropped open comically.

“You’re shitting me,” she gasped.

I shook my head.

“Not even a little bit.”

Koda licked my fingers, and I looked down at her as I continued to speak.

“My father wasn’t related to the other two that she has children with. He was just a passing fancy, but he shipped out and never came back,” I expounded.

“Ahh,” she said. “That makes sense, I guess. You never talk about him.”

Koda finally closed her eyes, and her breathing evened out, signaling it was time to go.

“Let’s go get some food,” I patted her thigh.

“If we get food now, I’ll be hungry again later,” she informed me.

I smirked at her.

“Then we’ll grab food and eat at home. Then we’ll go back out for dinner. I’ll even make reservations.”

I should’ve stopped her when I realized where this was going.

I was a trained professional.

I should’ve known this wasn’t going to go where she thought it was going to go.

“I deserve a better spot in this piece of shit restaurant. And your service has been fucking shit!” the man standing next to me at the hostess station snapped.

“Sir,” the hostess tried. “We don’t have any other available tables unless you would like to wait a few more minutes for one to open up.”

The thug, a white little prick the size of my left thigh with his pants hanging down to his knees, scoffed.

“Get me a fucking seat. Now,” he barked. “I’ve been waiting here to take my girl out for a fuckin’ hour. Those people,” he pointed to us, “got here after we did. Why do they get seated first?”

“Sir,” the woman apologized. “They had a reservation. They’ll get seated before you regardless of what time you arrived because they called ahead earlier in the day and reserved a table.”

Damn straight I did.

I wasn’t one to fuck around when I finally got my head out of my ass and took my woman out to the nicest restaurant in the county.

But this little prick was ruining my evening before it’d even started.

I’d just opened my mouth to rip the little shit a new one when Tasha put her hand on my arm to stop my words. I narrowed my eyes at her, and she pleaded quietly with me to let it go.

When I finally let her have her way, she turned to the hostess.

“Just let him have it,” Tasha stated graciously.

The hostess turned to her with a relieved smile. “We’ll get you seated as soon as we can. Thank you.” She turned to the man. “Right this way, Sir.”

The man turned his smug smile on us as the hostess led him to his seat which wasn’t too far away from where we were currently standing.

“Fuckin’ ugly cunt,” the man said, looking Tasha’s way.

I took a step forward, my intent to rearrange the little fuck’s face, but Tasha once again stayed my hand.

“Don’t.” She smiled. “I want to enjoy dinner with you.”

My eyes went back to the little asshole, and I willed myself to calm down.

The woman that sat down across from him looked terribly embarrassed.

And I felt sorry for her.

“You’re not a cunt, and you’re sure as hell not ugly,” I told Tasha.

She turned her face up to mine, and smiled. “Thanks. You’re not one, either.”

I laughed as I took her hand and led her back to the waiting area.

“Well, that was…interesting,” she said as we took a seat.

“Rude, was more like it. Man needs to learn some manners,” I growled.

Tasha nodded her head in agreement.

“He needs to learn a lot of things. Like how to treat women and how to act in public being at the top of the list,” Tasha agreed.

“I…” I started.

“Ma’am. Sir. We have a table ready for you now,” the hostess interrupted my reply, smiling.

We got up and followed her as she led us to our seat near where the creep was seated, but she put us in a booth instead of a table. It was situated against the windows and allowed me to see my bike.

Tasha scooted into the booth on the opposite side of me and smiled at the hostess that handed her a menu.

“Talia will be your server. She should be out any moment,” the hostess said before leaving.

I turned my head to study Tasha, taking in the other dress she’d been contemplating wearing to the wedding.

I liked this one better.

It showed off her beautiful breasts more.

Although I didn’t like the fact that she was showing them off to all the other men in the restaurant, it made it better to know that she was mine.

“What’s good here?” Tasha asked, looking up over her menu at me.

Her big brown eyes were wide and happy, making me feel on top of the world for putting that happiness there.

“Steak. And just wait for the rolls. They’re fucking fantastic,” I promised.

“Hmmm,” she hummed. “What about the chicken?”

I shrugged. “I’m a man, and this is a steakhouse. I’ve never ordered chicken here.”

She laughed at me before placing her menu down.

She would’ve replied, too, but the waitress showed up just as she was about to speak.

“Hi, I’m Talia. What can I get y’all to drink?” she chirped.

“Tea,” Tasha ordered.

“I’ll have whatever dark brew you have on tap,” I said.

She smiled and nodded. “I’ll be right back with those.”

She drifted away, and I caught sight of the thug from earlier glaring at us.

“Why don’t I got no service yet, bitch?” the thug yelled at the waitress’ back.

The waitress slowed down at his table and smiled. “You’re not in my section. But I’ll be happy to get you a drink. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a beer. She’ll have a water; she don’t need the extra calories,” the man sneered.

The restaurant became eerily quiet as everyone held their breath after what he’d just said.

I tensed, and Tasha reached over and grabbed my hand to keep me steady.
Again
.

“That was rude,” Tasha accused. “You don’t say stuff like that to women. Yours in particular.”

The man turned his face to Tasha. “I didn’t ask you what you thought.”

I closed my eyes and counted to a hundred, trying to calm my temper before it got the best of me.

I managed, but only barely.

It helped that everyone else turned back to their own plates, minding their own business.

I turned to Tasha and narrowed my eyes at her.

“Don’t instigate. It looks like he’s looking for a fight,” I ordered her.

She grimaced. “Sorry. I just…it slipped out.”

I snorted.

“I know. Guy’s a fucking douche bag. But you need to not interact with him,” I reiterated.

Now we were both keeping each other calm. It was bound to backfire.

She sighed. “Fine. I think I’ll get the steak, how about you?”

The waitress set our drinks down, along with a plate of rolls.

“Are y’all ready to order?” she chatted pleasantly as if the douche hadn’t snapped at her only minutes ago.

I could tell she was unnerved by the man whose drinks she’d just dropped off, and I knew I’d be giving her a good tip tonight.

“Yeah, we’re both gonna have the prime rib.”

Twenty minutes later, when our food arrived, the next incident occurred.

“That’s my food!” The man bellowed. “Right here. Bring it here. We were first.”

I clenched my hands into fists as the man got up and started waving his hands over our food. “Bring it to me.”

When he went to grab Tasha’s food, Tasha moved the plate over to keep him from reaching it.

And the man backhanded her.

The blow barely grazed her cheek, but it was enough.

I saw red.

I grabbed the man around the throat and threw him down on the ground.

He hit so hard that I heard his head crack against the concrete.

The breath whooshed out of him.

“You did not,” I slammed my fist into his face. “Just hit.” Slam. “My woman.”

I hit him so hard that his cheek crunched. Followed by his nose. Then I moved to his torso.

Nothing was off limits.

I was delivering the beating of a lifetime to the little bastard. One that, obviously, his parents had never given him, seeing as he had no manners to speak of.

“Ten,” Tasha’s soft voice cried, “let him up. The police are pulling in, and I don’t want you to get arrested.”

I pushed off of the little punk, then gave him one last kick to the ribs before I moved away and sat back down in my seat.

My knuckles were bloody, so I wiped them off as best as I could with my linen napkin and grabbed my steak knife, slowly cutting into my prime rib as I watched the little fucker struggle to roll over from the corner of my eye.

Tasha sat as well, picking up my cue, and slowly started to cut into her own steak.

She chewed methodically, but she kept casting wary glances at the man who was still laying on the floor.

The restaurant around us slowly started to pick back up to life, and everyone turned their heads back to their own tables, completely ignoring the man.

The woman who’d been with him was gone, though.

No sign of her.

Good.

She didn’t need to be there with him anyway.

Fucker needed to learn a lesson.

Hopefully, I’d given him something to chew on…other than the teeth that I’d knocked out.

“What happened here?” a burly police officer asked as he made his way into the restaurant.

He dropped down to the man’s side on one knee and immediately cuffed him when everyone in the room pointed at the offender.

“He hit that woman in the face over some food!” one old man crowed.

I finished up my last bite of steak, then leaned back to dip my roll in the delicious cinnamon butter, watching as Ridley took statements.

My sister was directly behind him on the other side, talking to the old man that was yelling about the little cunt on the floor hitting Tasha.

My eyes flicked to hers and I ground my teeth.

I could clearly see another bruise forming on her cheek, and I was getting pissed off even after releasing some of my tension by beating the shit out of the man.

Ridley and CeeCee finally made it to our table, and my sister looked at my finished steak with interest.

“No,” I stated firmly.

“But…” she whined.

“You’re on a diet, remember? That means no prime rib,” I told her.

She grimaced.

My sister was training for a half marathon, and according to her, she wanted to do it ‘right.’ Whatever the fuck ‘right’ was
. I’d have just kept eating what I wanted to eat and then trained twice as hard.

Apparently, though, women couldn’t ‘do that.’

Not that all the alcohol I’d seen her consume the night before had been in her ‘allowed for training’ diet.

“Shut up,” CeeCee whined. “Why are you beating on poor men that can’t defend themselves?”

My eyes narrowed and Ridley sighed.

“He’s not pressing charges, but you need to be more careful about where you do this. There are probably five to ten videos going up on YouTube as we speak,” Ridley chastised.

I shrugged. “I don’t really give a fuck. He hit Tash in the face.”

Ridley’s crude eyes moved swiftly to study Tasha’s face, and his eyes narrowed. “You’re going to need some ice.”

“I’ve got some for her,” our waitress popped up. “Thank you. You have no idea how bad that could’ve gotten. He comes in once a week and does the exact same crap.”

I nodded. “I saw him in here before a couple of months ago. Wasn’t very pleasant then, either.”

“Was that your date with Freya?” CeeCee asked.

Of course, it was an innocent question, but I had two sets of eyes narrow quickly onto me with the intensity of death rays.

Tasha’s were calculating, wondering whether the date had meant anything.

Ridley’s were sharp and seething.

Ridley had a crush on Freya. Freya had a crush on Ridley. It was all very juvenile, but Ridley felt he owed something to his deceased wife, so he didn’t date. Nor did he have any hookups, random or planned.

It was frustrating as fuck to watch him and Freya circle around each other.

I’d taken Freya out for a nice dinner because I’d caught her crying on the side of the road right outside of town.