branded (phantoms mc #2)

nineteen: in which she sets a plan into motion

"I'm a buzzkill, gonna kill your high... 'Cause I'm pissed off, I think you'd know why" -Mothica, Buzzkill

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"I don't know what you're up to," the voice said in my ear, "but you need to stop right now and come home with me."

I stiffened. "Fucking hell," I said under my breath when I turned and met judgmental eyes.

It wasn't that great to see a familiar face in one of the shittiest bars in the entire town, especially one that definitely wouldn't agree with what I was trying to do.

"What are you doing here?" I muttered to her, turning back around to signal the bartender to bring me the second beer I'd had that night.

Fish blended in with the rest of the patrons, who wore either leather or denim, but when she perched herself in the stool beside me, the scent of her flowery perfume definitely set her apart from the rest of them. The stench of sweat, stale beer and cigarettes was hard to breathe through. I didn't know what Fish was even doing here but could only guess that it had something to do with the piss they called beer here. Fish wasn't exactly discerning when it came to her alcohol.

I was wrong.

"What am I doing here?" Fish echoed, tapping her fingers on the sticky bar top. "How many of those have you had?" she asked, indicating my frothing glass.

"How the hell did you find me?" I threw her a dark look. "Out of all the holes in the wall, you just happened to drop by this one?"

"Pussy, our phones are still linked," she replied matter-of-factly.

"And why are you tracking me again?"

She bit her bottom lip, sighing loudly enough for me to hear over the shitty music. "P, I know about Camila and the Cursed."

"Ghost?"

My blood began to boil at the thought of the two of them discussing me. It was insulting, to say the fucking least. Even after our talk, even after I'd promised him I wouldn't do anything, he still didn't trust me.

With good fucking reason. Look at where you are, the voice in my head said infuriatingly.

"You two have no fucking right discussing my shit behind my back," I said through clenched teeth.

"I'm not the enemy, P."

Fish's typical calm, cool and collected thing was pissing me off.

"No, the piece of shit Cursed are the enemy," I spat out. I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face. "But I'm not doing anything, Fish. See?" I held up my glass to her in a mock-toast before taking a swig. "I'm just out on a Friday night like everybody else, enjoying a cold one."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You're plotting."

"Plotting what?"

"I don't know. Something," she insisted. "And you need to stop. Right now. And come home."

"Did Ghost send you after here because he thinks you're the only one who can – I don't know – tame me?" I scoffed. "I'm not some hyperactive child who needs controlling, Fish."

"No. You're just a hothead who's going to get herself killed messing with that crew of crazies."

I took another sip of my beer. "Go home."

Fish stared at me for a long time. "You go after him, you're gonna start a war. Do you really want that?"

"No idea what you're talking about, Fish. Go home," I repeated.