Authors: Davida Lynn
The Brawl
Copyright © 2015 by Davida Lynn.
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Davida Lynn, Photograph by R+M Photography.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Also By Davida Lynn:
The Rising Sons Universe:
The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club
Rising Sons - The Virtues Series:
Book One:
Hope
Book Two:
Faith
Book Three:
Charity
Rising Sons - The Davis Chapter
Book One -
Patience
Book Two -
Temperance
Book Three -
Reverence
Detroit Heat:
Book One:
Kade’s Rescue
Book Two:
Rico’s Recovery
Book Three:
Jonah’s Rescue
Standalone Work:
Acknowledgements
A big shout out to my writing partner
Rayna Bishop
, my faithful companion in telling stories. She keeps me honest and true.
To Donna and Jilly Bean. To all the ladies that push me through the madness day after day. What a wild ride it is beside you wonderful women!
Colton’s body wavered as he spoke. “Hey man, he insulted me.” He enunciated every word, compensating for the booze flowing through his system. He forced his eyes to remain open wide, so he could watch the men he was about to fight. They could charge him at any moment. It took every bit of concentration to keep his tall frame steady. His heart was thundering, his muscles tensing and relaxing beneath his western shirt.
Colton’s older brother, Kitt, shook his head. His words were stone sober and even, “He said you were wasted. That’s not an insult, brother, that’s a fact.”
Staring through glazed eyes for a second, Colton shrugged, “Well, I feel insulted. Plus he was trashin’ on those ladies in there.” Colton Wade’s Southern accent was thicker than the honey bourbon he’d been downing for the last hour. He was celebrating, because it had been one hell of a show. Sell-out crowd of over twenty-five hundred screaming fans.
He was also celebrating the redhead that had blown him right before he went on stage. That was one for the memoirs.
What was her name? Sheila? Fuck it, I’ll call her Sheila in the book.
Colton smiled at that thought.
He could see the four men across from him react to his smile. He didn’t care. Colton had already sized up all four men. The big one might be a threat, but the others were in for a world of hurt.
They shouldn’t go callin’ out strangers, especially when those strangers look like me and Kitt.
“How was he trashing the women?” Kitt turned to Colton, his curiosity getting the better of them.
Colton was always known for flawless drunk logic. With a shrug, he gave his older brother a wicked smile. He knew the look on Kitt’s face. He was playing with Colton, and Colton indulged.
“Well, first he called her sweetheart. I can live with that. You know how it is. Tryna get the waitress’s attention and all. So she’s busy helping us, and hear him use the C word.” Colton laughed a drunken laugh that came up like a burp. “Kitt, you know me.” Colton leaned forward, moving a leg out to steady himself. “I am a connoisseur of women. A fine purveyor, if you will. Love ‘em all.”
Turning from his older brother, Colton smiled at one of the pretty young things that had crowded around the dirt outside the bar. Fights always attracted crowds; dinner and a show. She wore a bandana that held down blonde hair like a waterfall at sunset.
Fuck, that’s good. Remember that one in the morning, it’d make a killer lyric.
Colton made a mental note. The blonde caught his eye, and he gave her a wink.
Kitt laughed, “I
know
you’re drunk, now. Don’t nobody use words like that unless they’re completely soused.”
Taking in the blonde for one last second, Colton turned back to his brother, a mock hurt look on his face, “Kitt, you tryna hurt my feelings? Cause it’s workin’.”
Kitt returned the look of bullshit feelings, “Oh no, little brother. Your feelings are hurt? Let me call the whambulance. Let me hop on Twitter and tell the world that outlaw country singer Colton Wade got his feels all banged up. Boo fuckin’ hoo.”
Colton bent forward with laughter. As he did, he watched the crowd as they tried to take in what was happening in front of them. The four assholes that wanted to fight hadn’t budged an inch. They were already beaten in Colton’s mind. The Wade brothers already had the psychological advantage.
Nobody fucks with the Wade Brothers.
When Colton forced himself upright, he was smiling at the thought.
One of the antagonists dropped his hands down. They had been up in his best impression of a boxer. Gerald hadn’t been in a fight since the third grade, and even that was more pushing and shoving than anything else. The only thing he had over the Wade Brothers was the fact that he only had one beer inside of him. He was stone sober compared to the cocky singer.
His buddies Earl, Billy, and Jimmy Vee kept their hands up but glanced back and forth to each other. Earl was a farmhand, and it showed. Jimmy was a welder, muscular but lean. Earl and Jimmy had seen more action than Gerald, and they were prepared for anything. Earl had a scar down his left calf from a knife fight a few years back. Some immigrant and strolled into town and walked around like he owned the place. The fence-jumper got what was coming to him, but not after giving Earl a scar he’d wear for the rest of his life.
The three locals stood, confused as the two brothers bantered like they weren’t about to get beat into the dust. “Are we doin’ this or ain’t we?” Gerry was sick of the bullshiting back and forth between the two. His adrenaline was pumping, and he had psyched himself up plenty. The city-slickers were barely standing, and Gerald’s gang had two men up on them.
“Fuck ‘em up, Ger!” Someone from the crowd called out.
Gerry felt a surge of pride and an additional boost of adrenaline. They were going to teach the big time rockstars a thing or two about respecting the locals.
Colton spun in that direction, “Alright, who’s the naysayer? Ain’t we got anyone on our side, here?” He laughed through the last question, resting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. His view turned back to the blonde. He gave her that winning smile, looking for a reaction from her. She was standing next to some jerk-off, but the body language said she’d rather be somewhere else. The hottie had her arms crossed over her flannel shirt chest, and she was holding her weight on the foot opposite the douche.
When she gave Colton the inkling of a smile, he gave her a nod, despite how heavy his head felt. “Pleased to meet ya, little darlin’. Djou come to the show t’night?” She smiled, but it was sad. Colton cocked his head at that sight. He may have been a womanizer, but he never did nothin’ to hurt a lady, and that beautiful butterfly had hurt in her eyes. That’s when Colton looked to the jag bag standing beside the beauty.