Diesel slid out from the table and stood.
The leader’s gaze landed on him and then a smile cracked the badass’ face.
US Marshal Axel Bain, older brother to Memphis Bain, stalked across the bar.
People moved out of the big biker’s way and the men that came with him. Axel was a US Marshal during work hours, but loved riding his Harley Davidson on the weekends. Sometimes, Diesel thought Axel did it for the shock factor. The group of men with Axel were various law enforcement that also rode. Diesel knew them by name and lifted a hand in return to their nods or waves.
“Axel Bain.”
“Diesel Gannon.” Axel returned his grin.
“What brings you home?” He gave his brother-in-arms a strong slapping hand clasp and bicep bump. While not in the same platoon, Axel had served in the same military branch.
Triton slipped out of the booth and Diesel slid his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders.
“Heard my baby brother was having some trouble.” Axel crossed his arms against his muscled chest.
“Oh?’ Diesel frowned.
“Yeah.” Axel frowned back. “He’s not?”
“No, he’s not.” Memphis complained from behind Axel.
Axel turned around with a smirk. “Not the way our sister tells it. Rachael says you have a psychopath on the loose who beat up on a poor, sweet Triton. Now, I’m not sure what that is, but Rachael said you haven’t caught this asshole.”
“Um…” Triton raised his hand. “That’d be me. I’m Triton.”
Axel studied Triton clinging to his side, and then quirked an eyebrow at Diesel. “Yours?”
“Yes,” he growled, irritated because he didn’t want any shit. Zane smirked at him from over Axel’s shoulder, and he scowled at his brother.
He didn’t want Axel or anyone thinking they could hone in on Triton when he was still making up his mind about things. That was all! And that sounded like he was staking his claim. Shit.
“Axel.” Zane stepped forward.
Axel gripped Zane’s hand. “Hey, Zane. What brings you home?”
“Same as you. My brother is having some trouble keeping poor little Triton safe.”
The men chuckled.
“Assholes,” Diesel rumbled and flipped them off.
“Whip.” Axel nodded to the bartender who stood with his arms planted on the bar, the white rag gripped tightly in his hand as if he’d forgotten he was wiping the bar.
Whip squinted at Axel and after a moment, the marshal nodded back.
Axel chuckled, smirked, and turned his back on Whip. Seconds later, Axel’s group pushed tables together until they formed a long one in the back of the room to fit everyone.
It was loud. It was rowdy, and Diesel enjoyed the hell out of it. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone loved Triton.
His boy fit in well with his family and friends. His boy. He’d said that to Axel. Would Triton want to stay once the threat of Clay and Auto was eliminated? Would it be fair of him to ask Triton to stay after he was safe?
“What are you thinking?” Triton whispered near his ear.
He shook off his thoughts and turned with a smile to glance into Triton’s eyes. “Of how nice it is to get the gang all together.”
“I’ve never been in a group this size. I mean, sometimes the salon had a party, but it was never like this.”
“Not even a college party when you were young?” He quirked a brow.
“Well, yeah, sometimes, but mostly I was too drunk to remember who was there,” Triton said.
He gave the boy a quick frown, and Triton blinked up at him innocent-like, but the very corner of that sexy mouth twitched. Another moment and it dawned on him by the sudden sneaky, impish smile.
“You’re teasing me.”
“I am. I mean, sure, I went to a few keg parties, but I didn’t drink that much.” Triton giggled. “I can honestly say I had fun.”
“I’m glad.”
“Did you go to any keg parties?”
“Mostly it was getting drunk or laid when on leave.”
“With your military buddies.”
“Mhmm, and my brother.”
“Mostly it was us getting drunk and him, sober, tossing us into the car and driving us back to base,” Zane said over the noise.
“Tossed?” Triton’s mouth gaped.
“Just look at his body mass,” Isaac pointed out.
“I’d rather not,” Zane grumbled.
“Yeah, I’d rather you not check out my bits, brother,” Diesel drawled.
“Gag.” Zane scowled, trying not to laugh.
Triton giggled, the rest of the people at the table laughed, and Diesel’s lips curved upward.
Diesel
Memphis’ phone rang, bringing Diesel’s head up.
The sheriff lifted a hand and everyone at the table went silent.
“Okay, will do. Thanks.” The sheriff hung up and the table grew even quieter.
“Auto Martin is about two blocks away, and he’s brought company. Looks to be about fifteen men,” Memphis said sternly.
Diesel scooted out of the booth and pulled Triton with him.
The sheriff gave the signal to the rest of the room.
They’d been almost positive Auto was crazy enough to interrupt their party, and it seemed they had been correct.
People who weren’t law enforcement were guided into the back conference room they often used for community meetings.
Memphis threw his brother a look when Axel pulled a weapon.
“What? I have my badge on.” Axel smirked and lifted the chain that held his US Marshal’s badge around his neck.
Memphis rolled his eyes. “Just don’t get shot.”
Axel snorted and made his way into the back hallway.
Diesel took Triton’s hand and drew him to the door of the back room.
“You stay here.” He gazed down into worried blue eyes and cupped Triton’s cheek.
“Please be careful.”
“I will.” He held the trembling boy close for a long moment and then closed the door.
Ted took up a spot at the door near the conference room and checked his weapon. The Dom was ex-marines and not one to be fucked with.
Axel leaned his big body against the opposite wall facing Ted.
“They’ll have to get past Ted and me,” Axel said.
“Let’s do this.” Diesel headed back to the front room of the bar and took a seat at the bar near the door. Some of the others mingled around, and others took seats, looking casual.
Whip had also taken out his US Marshal’s badge and had it hanging from a chain around his neck. The jukebox was still going, and Whip used the remote control to turn it down several notches.
It wouldn’t matter, once the fists started flying or gunfire began, the noise was going to be deafening.
On the heels of that thought, the door cracked open and a big man stepped inside and around the divider that separated the inside from view.
It wasn’t Auto. Diesel sneered. The coward probably thought to send his thugs in first to gun them down and then walk in later and snatch Triton.
The leader of the group was big, Diesel would give him that, but he was used to being the biggest in the room, and the stranger couldn’t top him in height. Behind the leader came several more men. Gang and prison tattoos were etched on forearms, necks, and chests.