Home > Biker Schmiker (Turf Wars #1)(9)

Biker Schmiker (Turf Wars #1)(9)
Author: Bella Jewel

She grins. “Nobody will ever know it’s us, it won’t matter.”

I laugh. “Hit me with your ideas.”

“I’ve got plenty, but they’ll depend on the situations that arise. Don’t you worry, I’ve got your back.”

God help them all.

 

 

4

 

 

“I DON’T WANT THE NIGHT to end,” Ramona says, hooking her arm through mine as we finish up locking the café for the evening. It’s only nine in the evening—we close early on Tuesdays—and the two of us have had a few drinks and are ready to keep the night going.

“I don’t know where we can go,” I say, my voice slightly slurry. “If we go into town now, we’ll be waiting forever for a cab.”

“I have an idea.”

Her eyes are on the garage next door where, once again, music is blaring out. I guess they got the sound system fixed. Well, at least I got one night of sleep I suppose.

“They’ll never let us in,” I say, shaking my head.

“Of course they will, we’re two gorgeous women.”

“No, trust me, they won’t.”

“Well then, if they kick us out we’ll just have to plan our revenge,” she says, tugging my arm toward the garage.

“What sort of revenge?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

We walk over to the lot and, for a while, it seems like we get away with being here, we even manage a few drinks because it’s so crowded. That is until Riggs notices me sitting at his bar, Ramona by my side, and comes striding over. He must have been busy before, or I was simply lucky enough not to run into him. Guaranteed we’re getting kicked out now. I swallow the shot quickly before we go.

“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” he says when he stops in front of me, hair all thick and sexy, beard making me want to do very bad things to him.

God, drunk me is a whore.

A real piece of work.

Snap out of it, Eve.

“I thought it was an open party,” I shrug, giving him a huge grin. “I didn’t know I wasn’t welcome.”

“Know damn well you’re not welcome. I think you like the attention.”

I scoff. “I doubt that. This is my best friend, Ramona.”

Ramona is staring at Riggs, and then she looks to me and very loudly whisper-hisses, “He’s super-hot up close. Like way hotter than I imagined.”

God.

No shame.

Riggs grins.

“Your friend can stay, you can’t.”

I let my mouth drop open. “That’s not very nice.”

He grins now. “I’m not a very nice man.”

“You can’t make me leave.”

He leans in close. “Can’t I? Time to go, Sparkler. You know where the exit is. I’ve got some ladies waiting for me, and you’re killin’ my vibe.”

I scoff. “I wouldn’t call them ladies.”

“They’ve got pussy, they’ve got ass, they’re down to fuck, I’ll call them whatever the fuck they want to be called to get my dick wet.”

“Ugh,” I say, standing. “You’re disgusting, seriously.”

“There you are,” a gorgeous blond says, walking up to Riggs and pressing her perfect body against his. “Who are they?”

She gives me a look that makes me want to punch her.

“None of your damn business, that’s who,” I mutter.

“Ugh, you’re not bringing that piggy looking thing into our room, are you?” she frowns. “She’s ... chunky.”

She did not just call me fucking chunky.

“I beg your pardon,” Ramona says before I can open my mouth. “What did you just call her?”

“Go back and wait for me,” Riggs orders, and the blond huffs before walking off.

I look to Ramona, feeling more than a little ... chunky. “Let’s go.”

She stands and follows me out the door, my anger bubbling in my chest. He is such a dick, such a giant dick, and the women he keeps company with ... ugh. I can’t handle it. Ramona spins to me and, before I get the chance to speak, she tells me, “I have an idea. A really, really great idea. Do you know where he’s going to be with those ladies? I’m not letting that bitch get away with calling you chunky, and I’m not letting him get away with allowing it”

I raise my brows. “I do know where he takes them, yeah.”

I was lucky enough to get that experience last time I went in there.

She grins. “Do you have laxatives at your place?”

My eyes widen. “Yes, and I’m scared to ask why?”

“He didn’t kick me out, hell, he said I can stay. I’m going to drop a laxative in those women’s drinks. We’ll see how fun his night is then, that giant wanker.”

Oh, shit.

I mean, literally.

I grin and clap my hands together. We’ll see how gorgeous those women are when they’re all clambering for the toilet.

“Let’s do this.”

We get back to my place and, thankfully, I have a whole packet of laxatives left over from that one time I don’t want to talk about. There are about twenty left, and that’s a hell of a lot of stomachs to upset. Ramona spends five minutes crushing two each of them up and putting them all into a little bag that she shoves into her pocket.

“I’ll find a way to get hold of their drinks, and I’ll put this in them. They’ll wish they didn’t come to that party tonight.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, it’s pretty harsh.”

She snorts. “Spray painting your shop was pretty damned harsh. Letting that blond bitch call you chunky was harsh.”

She’s right.

“Let’s go.”

I wait near my café as Ramona goes back into the clubhouse. She’s gone for a good hour, and I get comfortable with a bottle of vodka. I’m more than a little drunk by the time she returns, waving the empty packet around in her hand. “God, that was so easy. When Riggs went out to get his little ladies some drinks, I managed to slip some into theirs while he was talking to some other biker. He didn’t even see me. This is going to be epic. Now, we wait.”

She sits beside me and we drink for a few more hours, well into the night and early hours of the morning. This is going to hurt tomorrow, but I don’t open until lunchtime so at least I can sleep in.

“Are those tablets going to work soon?” I say, stuffing my hand into a packet of chips that I made Ramona go and get from my apartment.

“Yep, the box says they work within two hours, they’re rapid-acting laxatives which means they’re not going to be happy.”

As if out of an incredible movie, the front door of the clubhouse busts open and Riggs comes storming out. He’s wearing only a pair of jeans, and his face is wild with anger as he charges toward the large industrial bin both our shops share and tosses a whole heap of blankets into it. Then, the blond girl who insulted me before, comes out, her face red and her other hand clutched to her stomach. She’s talking frantically at Riggs, no doubt apologizing for whatever the hell just unfolded in there. It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.

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