Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3) (18 page)

I walked up the other side and stopped the movement.

How had she even known or had the strength to get it moving was beyond me, but if she wasn’t careful, she’d be fucked.

And not in a good way.

“Let go of my motherfuckin’ bike before I decide not to be nice about this anymore,” I said through clenched teeth.

She glared and let go of the bike, not before hitting the mirror with a small wrench I hadn’t seen and cracking it.

“You fuckin’
bitch
,” I snarled, watching her as she walked to her car, shoving the wrench in her purse.

I’d had enough shit today.

More than enough shit.

First my dog. Then that stupid fuck at the restaurant and now this chick.

My limit was reached, and I just couldn’t make myself care anymore.

I picked up the first thing I could off my bike, which happened to be a crowbar that I carried, then walked across the street.

“This your car?” I yelled at her, placing the crowbar just barely on the surface of her car, and looked at her.

“This is a hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle. Get your filthy hands off it,” she ordered.

I looked at her incredulously.

“You just broke my mirror, and you have the nerve to tell me not to touch your car?” I asked carefully.

The woman sneered.

She’d actually be very beautiful if she wasn’t such a bitch. Over a goddamn parking spot, at that.

Long dark hair that hung in waves down her back. A perfect little mouth. Beautiful eyes.

She was everything I would’ve gone for before Tasha. Now she didn’t do a goddamn thing for me.

Which worked well, since I was now good and pissed.

I didn’t need her crocodile tears stopping what was about to happen.

I smiled.

Tasha

“Uhhh,” I murmured to Mig. “You might want to come up here. Casten’s already gotten into two fights today, and I don’t think him beating the crap out of someone’s car will be as easy to write off as beating an actual person.”

“Where are you?” Mig asked casually.

I could hear shuffling as he moved, then the sound of wind as he exited wherever he was.

“Dairy Palace,” I answered just as quickly.

“Okay, I’ll be there in ten,” he said.

Shit.

Ten minutes would be too long.

Way too long.

The woman, however, wasn’t helping matters.

She spat verbal slur after slur and never once stopped to look at the crowd.

And each hit he got in, the woman started yelling louder.

She’d say something derogatory, and Casten would rear back and slam his long metal stick thingy into the woman’s car.

Both brake lights were gone. The side mirror. A window. And the windshield.

“You’re a filthy cock sucker,” the woman said shrilly. “I bet your girl there’s a whore.”

My eyes widened.

She’d have had better luck not bringing me into it, because the second she said something about me, Casten started to really put some heft behind each swing.

Metal crunched.

Glass broke.

Cell phones recorded.

It was a disaster.

“Shit,” I whispered. “Shit!”

I didn’t know what to do.

There was no way I’d be going over there to interrupt him.

He wouldn’t want me in the middle of it.

So I did what I do best. I stress ate.

My ice cream and then Casten’s.

It took me about five minutes to completely devour his and mine, but it was just long enough for another member of the club to get there.
Wolf
.

Wolf, I didn’t know that well.

He was scary to me. He was dark, and he had a certain edge about him that made me want to back away instead of encourage him to talk to me.

But right then, I was thankful he was such a badass looking guy.

Not that Casten wasn’t a badass in his own right, but there was just something about Wolf that screamed ‘unapproachable.’

Another man was riding on his right, a prospect that I rarely got to see since the members of The Uncertain Saints had him running around like a crazy man.

Today, though, he looked different.

And it was then I saw that he had his leather cut on, but this time it didn’t say ‘prospect’ on it. It was a fully patched member jacket.

I smiled.

I hadn’t realized that this had happened.

And I thought it was cool!

I liked ‘Core’, aka Apple Drew, a name that left much to be desired, hence the new road name, Core, that all the members and old ladies were now using.

Wolf and Core rode right up into the parking lot and parked their bikes directly beside Casten’s before heading into the fray.

But just as suddenly as he’d gone over there, Core turned around and came back, looking through the crowd.

His eyes landed on me as I sat there finishing the last of our ice cream and causing him to grin.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded.

Core was an intensely gorgeous guy.

He was what I pictured a badass biker to look like. Long, thick, blonde hair that was almost always up in a man bun…not that that was what you should call it. (Apparently, they got offended when you said they had pretty hair.)

He had a beard that rivaled any beard.

It was much longer than Casten’s and, at times, I would say it was a bit unkempt.

Except that wasn’t the look he was trying to accomplish, he just plain old didn’t care.

He had blazing blue eyes, the color a clear sky blue, that I was used to seeing shimmering with laughter.

“I’m fine,” I smiled. “Thank you.”

He nodded and turned to watch what was happening behind him, crossing his arms over his chest and making the muscles in his back flex and bunch.

I swallowed.

Casten definitely had some competition in the hotness department.

“Bring it, bitch!” Casten bellowed with rage.

My eyes moved to study him.

No, he was definitely hotter.

His storm gray eyes were sparking with ire as his muscles drew taut like a bow string.

He was holding the bar out in front of him like he was brandishing a sword, and I had a half hysterical thought that he’d look good holding a saber out in front of him while wearing a kilt.

I smiled into my hand at that thought.

He wouldn’t find it as funny as I did.

“I’m leaving,” the woman screamed. “Fuck you.”

With that, she got into her car and backed up, stopping within inches of running Casten over.

My heart leapt into my throat as I stood up, dropping my trash on the ground in my haste to make sure he was okay.

He was fine, which he proved moments later when he swung the crowbar at her back glass, completely shattering the entire thing with one swing.

“Holy shit,” I gasped.

This was really something you only saw in the movies, and once again, I was left wanting—
needing
—Casten due to his display of testosterone.

I was such a slut.

Casten stood there, chest heaving, while Wolf turned on his heel and walked over to us.

Wolf surveyed the scene with quick, efficient eyes.

He took one last look at the woman driving off and another at Casten. Then came to me.

“You ready?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Go get on Casten’s bike. I’ll get him to you,” he ordered.

I gave him a grateful look, then walked to the bike, threw my leg over, and took my seat.

Our evening had gone to shit.

Awesome.

“Fuck off,” Casten said as he walked back toward Core and me.

I blinked.

“I’m sensing some hostility here,” I said to Casten once he reached me.

His eyes jumped to mine, and he glared. “She touched my bike.”

I held up my hands. “Sorry.”

He sighed.

“Will you go home with Wolf?” he asked with tempered control. “I need a little time to myself.”

I frowned.

“I guess I can,” I agreed reluctantly, getting off of Casten’s bike.

Without another word, he got on his bike, started it with a roar, and rode out of the parking lot without another glance.

“Casten’s normally mild mannered…until you get him riled up. From what I’ve heard, he’s had a long day on top of an even longer night. Just give him some time,” Wolf ordered as he mounted his bike, offering me his hand.

I took it and got on the bike behind him.

There was no helmet for me since my little Storm Cloud had ridden off with mine, so Wolf promised to ride slow seeing as he didn’t have a helmet to hand me.

He, apparently, rode without one.

Something that I hadn’t seen any of the other men do, except for him.

And when we arrived home, I went to bed alone.

Again.

Some days I am more productive than others. Such as today I managed to put pants on. Yesterday I wasn’t so lucky.

-Tasha’s secret thoughts

Tasha

“Coach, your man is back,” T said, pointing at the gym’s entrance.

I didn’t look back.

He didn’t come home last night, and I was upset with him.

When I’d woken to go to work that morning, Core was still there and had been all night.

He’d followed me to work and then left me in the capable hands of a now off-duty, Ridley, who’d refused to come inside until I’d threatened him with dismemberment.

“No, no, no,” I yelled over the screech of gym shoes on the court. “What have I been telling you all afternoon, Amanda? Go run a lap and come back.”

Amanda took off, and I stepped up to the net.

“Watch me,” I ordered the others.

They watched as I made a show of standing ready at the net, taking a shuffling step backwards and then turning around to be ready for a ball that my assistant coach, Julia, sent my way.

I jumped, snapped my arm forward, and hit the ball over the net.

“It wasn’t hard, but it was perfectly placed. You don’t have to hit hard every time to score, I promise,” I told the girls.

A few of them giggled, and I narrowed my eyes.

“What? Did I say something funny?” I growled.

I was not in the best mood today, either.

I missed my apartment.

Missed my cat and ferret.

Missed my Casten.

Missed how easy life used to be before that night at the bar where some man decided to fixate on me.

“Alright,” I said, backing up to the line. “Someone go set for me. I’ll show you what I want.”

The setter, Amelia, walked up and got into position.

My assistant coach tossed the ball, I set it to the setter and then she gave it right back to me in a high arc that was perfect.

I took three timed steps, jumped, and slammed the ball as hard as I could.

My aggression was high, so it was harder than what I would usually give the defense.

Except someone blocked it, causing it to pop back over into my face.

I blinked, watching silently as the ball fell and landed unceremoniously at my feet.

I blinked again, looking up to see a wall of black in front of me.

I narrowed my eyes at Casten.

He glared back.

“What?” I snapped.

“You’re ignoring me,” he growled.

I laughed.

“No, if I were ignoring that would be an intentional expenditure of effort on my part. I’m
working
,” I snarled.

He didn’t reply.

“You have a lunch break today?” he asked.

I nodded, not sure where this was going.

“And what did you do on your lunch break?” he asked casually.

“I ate lunch,” I said stubbornly.

“Really?” He half laughed. “And did you pull your phone up during lunch?”

I squeezed my lips together.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “So you saw the fifteen fucking calls I left on your fucking voicemail.”

“Language,” I snapped. “These are high school girls, not the club.”

He gritted his teeth.

“What time are you done today?” he rumbled.

I looked at the girls, who were now watching us avidly.

“Five,” I muttered, knowing they would’ve told him the truth if I hadn’t.

“I’ll wait,” he said, walking to the bleachers where he climbed up to the very top row and sat down resting his back against the wall.

“Wonderful,” I muttered to myself. “Just freakin’ wonderful.”

“Ready?” I heard asked at my back.

I resisted the urge to shudder.

“Yes,” I mumbled, shoving papers into my bag to grade.

On top of being the girls’ volleyball coach, I was also teaching health for two periods. Which meant grading a lot of papers.

If I had my choice, I would give an attendance grade seeing as I wasn’t sure anyone ever really paid attention in health class.

Hell, the most action I’d gotten from my students all semester was the day we had our CPR course.

“You’re dilly-dallying,” Casten growled.

I turned around, bag in one hand and papers in the other, and glared.

“What makes you think that I don’t have a fuckin’ reason for doing what I do?” I growled.

He held up his hands.

“Down tiger,” he said soothingly, although his eyes flashed, telling a different story.

I shoved the rest of my things in my bag, bending them to hell and back, but I couldn’t seem to find the desire to care at that moment in time.

I walked past him, knocking his shoulder, and headed to the back hallway to turn off the last of the lights.

I hit the first two in the locker room before heading to the last one in the back hallway.

But before I could hit the lights, my hand was stilled by Casten’s.

“What’s your problem?” he stopped me.

I tried to rip my hand free from his grip, but he held on with an embarrassing lack of effort.

“I’m pissed,” I growled.

“Why?” he countered.

I looked across the room at the mirror and glared at his reflection in it.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you why I’m pissed. Suffice it to say, you’re the reason, and that’s that,” I snapped.

He tightened his hands on my wrists.

“That’s not it. Tell me fuckin’ why, or I’ll make you tell me,” he hissed.