Pucking Road Trip (Bay Rebels #3)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Merchant’s Inn, Freedom

R obyn

I hope that Shay is okay.

Nervously, I chew on my lip, shifting from foot to foot on the sticky floor of Merchant’s Inn. I run my hand through my hair, which is damp with sweat in the heat.

I’m wearing an apple green cotton dress and matching heels.

When D’Angelo took Shay out tonight on their second date to the Garden of Eden, he was vibrating with a such a high level of dominance that I’m certain Shay won’t be able to either walk or sit down tomorrow.

That doesn’t leave Shay many options.

Plus, D’Angelo asked me to drop off two special things for his first overnight with Shay: a mysterious package that he told me not to look at and two Bay Rebels ties.

Remembering my own date with D’Angelo, I don’t think that the ties will be for wearing.

I have no idea what the package is.

Mysterious.

Despite the likelihood that Shay is tied onto or over something right now, they both need this time alone together.

Plus, it means that I get this final chance to take a break, before the brutal road trip begins.

It still makes me antsy to leave them alone this close to the away games, especially after that freaky text message.

Truth or dare.

Still, the only danger D’Angelo and Shay are in tonight is of having wild sex followed by cuddles.

I push toward the bar.

My nose scrunches at the scent of smoke and stale beer.

It’s quieter tonight, mid-week. Although, it’s still busier in Merchant’s Inn than anywhere else in town.

Merchant’s Inn is a rare safe space in Freedom with the added bonus of cheap beer, loud rock, and a couple of rooms for travelers.

The locals love this old, grungy slice of town with its dance floor and stained wooden walls that are covered with paintings of Emo bands like a shrine.

Freedom is a town with two sides: the wealthy, including the tourists, and those who are struggling but working hard.

Merchant’s Inn is at the heart of the working side of town.

Neve owns Merchant’s Inn.

We were best friends in high school. Neve still wears the emerald and silver friendship bracelet that I made for her.

Neve was once treated as an outcast by both haters and her own family who threw her out. But she didn’t leave town. Instead, she worked harder than fucking anybody and now she’s a success.

I fucking love that about her.

I invited Eden to join me tonight at the bar. With his social anxiety, however, an evening out in Merchant’s Inn is his equivalent of being forced to sing karaoke.

And that’s hell on It’s Raining Men earth.

Instead, Eden shook his head, lifting his copy of The Count of Monte Cristo .

He’s spending the evening on the couch with a cup of tea and a book that he appears to strongly identify with.

Should that worry me?

Probably, but tonight isn’t for worrying about Eden’s inner darkness.

Tonight, is for drinking.

Hopefully, for getting pissed.

Tomorrow is realistically for regretting my choices and groaning with a throbbing headache and epic hangover.

Tom, the tiny but feisty bartender at Merchant’s Inn, waves when he sees me. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

“No hurry.”

Tom’s hair is even redder than mine. He has beautiful jade eyes.

Tom serves a tray of beers to a rowdy group of women in front of me expertly.

If I’d tried the same move, sliding those glasses across like that, for the very short time that I worked here when I first moved back to Freedom, then I’d have smashed them onto the floor. Alternatively, I’d have sloshed at least half of the alcohol down the women’s short, glitzy dresses.

I’m proud of the fact that Neve put up a plaque in the staff bathroom commemorating my record number of broken glasses.

It’s better than being commemorated for something boring like an achievement of historical significance, for example, winning a Nobel Prize.

“Hey, don’t rush off, baby,” the woman at the front of the group slurs. “Why are you ignoring me? How much do we need to tip for a kiss?”

She snatches at Tom’s arm, yanking him closer.

He pales, struggling to free himself.

He’s smaller than her. She’s pulling him painfully into the wooden bar on his side of the counter. He grimaces, as his hip is bruised.

If Neve was here, then she’d rip this woman apart.

She has a zero tolerance policy to anyone touching Tom or any of her staff. She’s particularly protective of Tom, however, although I don’t know his story in order to understand why.

“Hey,” I yell, edging closer. “Get your fucking hands off him.”

The woman’s friends are looking uncomfortable. They don’t back her up.

She glances around herself, appearing to realize it. She gives a fake laugh, releasing Tom.

Tom shoots me a grateful look, backing away. “Thanks.” Then he narrows his eyes at the woman. “Get out. You’re barred.”

The woman gapes at him. “You can’t do that.”

“The owner has given me the power, if anyone crosses the line with me. And you just did.” Tom’s expression shutters. “Do I need to get the owner?”

“Fucking bitch,” the woman hisses, turning on her heel.

She stalks to the exit.

Tom flinches.

I stiffen.

Would Tom mind if I kicked this woman’s ass?

I arch my eyebrow at her group of friends. “You too.”

To my surprise, they mutter variations on sorry, Tom , as they leave. They look shamefaced, as they should do.

Tom is liked.

Yet I know that he has to put up with being treated like that much more than he should do.

Tom starts to aggressively wipe down the bar with a cloth.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He doesn’t look at me. “Yeah. The usual?”

“I have a usual?”

He pushes a beer bottle across the counter to me.

Huh, it’s exactly what I want. It appears that I do have a usual.

That thought makes me feel all fuzzy like I have not only a local now but a bartender who can automatically give me my usual.

I drop the payment onto the counter, along with a tip.

Tom collects it. “Could you not tell Neve about what happened? Thanks for stepping up for me. But she’s having a good night, and I don’t want to spoil it. Plus, I need this job. I don’t want her thinking that I can’t deal with my own…that I can’t handle myself. It’s part of the role.”

I frown. “But it’s her role to make sure that you’re safe here too.”

“Please.”

“I don’t understand.”

Tom wrings his cloth between his hands. “She could hire someone who isn’t targeted like I am. Or who doesn’t freeze when… Just someone else. And I can’t lose this—”

“I get it. It’s dealt with. No need to bring down the wrath of Neve, I promise.”

Tom shoots me a relieved smile. “You’re the best, even if I pray that your klutzy ass never steps near my glasses again.”

I laugh. “You and me both.”

I snatch up my beer and work my way across the bar.

The fiery sound of The All-American Reject’s “Dirty Little Secret” playing over the music system fills the room with a throbbing, angsty Emo vibe.

I hum along to the song, feeling my mood lightening.

Then I drop my beer onto the chipped oak table in the middle of the leather booth in the corner.

I slide myself onto the seat next to Neve.

Neve snorts. “Did you go all the way to the brewery for that beer?”

I give her the finger.

She gives it back.

Neve sprawls on one side of the booth with her converse trainers resting up on the table.

She’s my age with chestnut eyes and spiky midnight hair. She wears large, horn-rimmed glasses. Her rich brown skin glows bronze on her cheeks.

She’s dressed in skinny jeans with a studded belt and a black t-shirt with the words ALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE written across it in yellow.

It’s hard not to tell her about what happened to Tom, but I promised.

Neve appears to notice that something is off because she narrows her eyes. “You suck at hiding shit from me. What’s wrong? Do you remember that time in elementary school that you ate my candy, then felt so guilty that you cried and hid in the corner? You were amazed that I guessed it was you, RH.”

RH is her nickname for me, Robyn Hood.

I take a deep swig of my beer. “And that’s when I figured out that the career of criminal mastermind wasn’t for me.”

“You just need to know how to bury your conscience.” Neve pushes her glasses more firmly onto her nose. “Along with the bodies.”

Statements like that should worry me. But I’ve known Neve long enough that they no longer do.

“Or be best friends with someone who can.” I salute Neve.

“As long as D’Angelo remembers that.” Her smile is dangerous.

Neve only has a truce with D’Angelo.

D’Angelo should take the shovel talk that Neve gave him both seriously…and literally.

Cody chuckles.

He’s sitting on the other side of the booth in a blue t-shirt and jeans. He’s nursing his own beer. Michael has his arm slung around him, pulling Cody against his side. He’s wearing a tan suit, although it’s open at the neck.

I can’t help noticing how dark the shadows are underneath Michael’s eyes.

Michael raises his brandy and takes a sip. “Talking of bodies, my shift today was grueling.”

I grimace. “Why do we always end up talking about bodies and not in the sexy way?”

“Because my work is long and bloody.” Michael quirks his brow. “Like a Tarantino movie with a similar number of dismembered limbs but less of the excessive dialogue. The same amount of cussing from the consultants, in private of course.”

Cody grabs hold of Michael’s hand. “Tough week?”

“Exhausting, but being out with all of you is a good distraction.” Michael glances at his husband. “How has it been preparing for the road trip?”

Cody brightens. “Exciting. The staff are pumped for the first trip away together. They’re a great set of people. On the other hand, however, everyone’s terrified, which isn’t what I was expecting.”

Anxiety rushes through me. “ Terrified , Code?”

“The senior staff and board members are putting pressure on everyone. It’s a huge deal that the team performs. No one expects all three games to be won because the odds are stacked against an away team from the beginning. Nobody gets a sweep of three wins. The Ducks, Kings, and Sharks are fucking hard teams, even without their home advantage.”

My hand tightens around the bottle. “The media are going one of two ways. They’re either writing the Bay Rebels off as losers already, or building them up with hype like the new golden team who are going to defeat the old, has-beens. Both narratives are putting intense pressure on the players. If they don’t perform, the press are going to tear them apart like wolves.”

“Then they better score goals.” Neve picks up her bottle and points it at me. “Your dad can kick their asses, and you can fuck them. Use those penis extension sticks of theirs, if they need extra motivation.”

I spray my mouthful of beer over the table, spluttering.

“Classy, Ryn.” Cody laughs, mopping up the mess with a paper napkin.

“Talking of fucking.” I’ll take a leaf out of Eden’s book and have my revenge. “How are things going with your hot blond nurse, Lucy?”

“Mind-blowingly. She’s a fucking tonguing artist.” Neve curls her tongue in illustration, and it’s me who pinks and not her.

Why did I forget that nothing makes Neve blush?

“But then,” Neve wiggles her fingers, “we’re also scissoring prodigies. We’re well-matched.”

“With how talented you are, it’s amazing that you’re not famous. How did throwing yourself out of a plane go?”

“Well, I’m not dead.” Neve pulls a face.

“Not a fan?”

“Skydiving sucks. But Lucy is into all that athletic, thrill-seeking shit. If she hasn’t risked her life three times a week, she isn’t happy. So, she was pleased that I’d shared the experience with her and that’s what matters.”

I never thought that Neve, who’s never even been in a plane before, would jump out of one.

I also never thought that she’d care about sharing experiences with someone.

This Lucy is good for her.

“When will we get to meet her?” I ask.

Neve looks startled. “I don’t know. Her shifts at the hospital are crazy. We’ll see. She wants us to go swimming with sharks in a couple of weeks.”

Cody laughs. “I love Lucy already.”

“You’re kidding.” I stare at Neve in amazement. “What if they see that you’re an Emo in black and mistake you for a seal? They’ll eat you.”

“They’ll take one bite and realize that I taste too bitter. They’ll spit me out.” Neve leans closer. “And I haven’t forgotten that you’re hiding something, RH. Spill.”

My mouth dries.

I should have known that Neve wouldn’t forget about my shifty behavior.

She never forgets anything, whether it’s the embarrassing moment that I tripped and flashed my cat underwear to the entire class in high school (excruciatingly mortifying). Or the time that I stayed over with her and thought her rubber ducky was a cute toy, only to get the shock of my life, when it turned out to be a vibrator.

That was one hell of a quacking fun bath time.

I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. “Hiding something? If I’m acting freaked, it’s because D’Angelo received this weird message on his phone yesterday.”

I intended to ask their advice anyway. It’s the perfect way to throw Neve off the scent.

Cody sits up straighter, concerned. “What type of message? That asshole Wilder isn’t stalking you again, right?”

“I don’t know. The number was untraceable.”

Neve’s eyes flash. “Dismembering body time.”

“As tempting as that is,” particularly tempting, when it comes to my abusive ex, “the problem is that we don’t know who sent the message or why.”

“Report it.” Michael looks grim. “I know that Austin can be difficult sometimes, but at least the security team need to know.”

“I have,” I reply. “D’Angelo also has his PI, Garcia, working on this as well.”

“Who are these shadowy people who are friends with D’Angelo?” Neve raps the table on each point. “A vintage sports car. Mysterious men connected to the underworld. And an alphahole in a suit. Look at that, D’Angelo is Bond.”

I grin. “I know you mean that as an insult, Neve, but D’Angelo would fucking dine out on that description.”

“But are you safe, Ryn?” Cody looks set to fight the world for me. “What did the text say?”

“ Truth or dare .”

The other three freeze, and it settles on me, just how ominous those words actually sound spoken aloud like that and not at a party.

“It could be a prank,” I say, weakly.

“Maybe.” Cody sounds unsure.

“I hate that game.” Neve kicks her feet off the table in disgust. “People are fucking sheep. It’s about nothing but pride and ego, being unable to back down.”

“Or they’re simply pissed,” I say.

“Pissed, on top of thinking that they’ll look weaker backing down from a dare, rather than letting people who are laughing at them duct tape them naked to a football goalpost.”

Good point.

“It’s the kind of thing that Grayson and Lucas would play.” Cody’s brow furrows. “Those two are pranksters. Are you sure that it’s not them?”

What if it is just players hazing their captain?

If it is, then they’ll have their asses handed to them by D’Angelo.

Yet D’Angelo’s respected by his team. He treats them like family.

Brothers.

Surely, they wouldn’t mindfuck him just before the first road trip.

Right?

I push my beer away from myself, disquieted. “I don’t know. I have no idea who’d send it. At the moment, I’m hoping that it’s not important. It’s just that after being stalked and blackmailed in the first few weeks of the season, I don’t want to take any chances. My guys have been through enough.”

“So have you,” Cody says.

I look down. “We’ve survived it. We’re the strongest that we’ve been and we’re happy. I hate that I don’t know what we’re facing.”

“I’m the King of Bets.” Cody cocks his head. “But games like truth or dare are different.”

“They’re dangerous.” Michael curls his arm more protectively around Cody. At the same time, he fixes me with a stern look. “Don’t engage with whoever this person is. Even if the game seems innocent to start with. You’re hiding too many secrets to be able to tell the truth . Yet dares are set up to reveal a hidden fantasy or fear and grant you permission to do it publicly. And that could destroy your careers.”