Life Like Rocks

Chapter 2

I watched Ezekiel, then I watched the man who grabbed my arm slowly get up. My knuckles began throbbing, but I knew I could just put them in ice later. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, adrenaline pounding in my veins.

Don't get too cocky, Sanchez, my subconscious tells me.

I momentarily run my attention to the bar, pouring myself a second shot and downing in. I then pop my neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers and knees.

The sound alerts the other patrons of the bar, causing some of them to form a circle around myself, whom I assume is my new friend Ezekiel and the other man.

The man charges at me, but is met with a boot to his stomach. He staggered, doubling over as he caught his breath. He then lunged at me and hit me in my right cheek. I hissed softly, wiping the blood on my sleeve.

The chants of 'fight' began to get louder as another person joined the other man.

"Enough," someone suddenly shouts.

Everyone that had formed a ring around the fight scattered. I watched Ezekiel's face pale, so I again assumed something. I sit back down on my stool, pulling my long sleeved shirt off.

"Oh shit," the man said when he saw the reaper tattoo on my right forearm.

I look up and grin, "Oh, shit is right. Now, scram!".

The man and his friend bolted for the door to the bar, both tripping over their own two feet and each other as they exited. I shake my head, pulling the back of my red tank top down.

I looked to Ezekiel and notice his awestruck face. I just shrug and ask Emery, "Got a first aid kit?".

Emery, after blinking rapidly to bring herself back to reality, handed me a small white box. I lay a hundred dollars on the bar, then I get up and head for the furthest table in the room. I didn't want to be bothered as I worked on my knuckles.

I sit down and open the kit, taking out gauze, alcohol prep pads and tape. I soon heard murmuring begin as I cleaned my knuckles. I don't even bother to look up when I hear Ezekiel and another guy walk over.

"RK," Ezekiel says.

"What," I ask, wrapping my knuckles.

"Let me help," he said, his voice sounding concerned.

"She's too stubborn, man," the other guy says, "She wouldn't want any of your help.".

I finally look up, my voice firm, "And who thinks I would want help?".

"Don't test her, Coco," someone calls from two tables down.

"Shut up, Angel," 'Coco' says.

I shake my head, wincing a little as my split open cheek began to hurt again. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, still a little high off adrenaline as it began to slowly crash.

I watched Ezekiel sit next to me, his hands gently taking mine. I slowly nod my head, allowing him to properly clean my knuckles. His face only had a look of concern on it as he finished with my knuckles.

The man whom I assumed was Coco left, his spot getting taken by the man whom I assumed was Angel. I tilt my head a little when I began to notice similarities between Angel and Ezekiel.

"You're brothers aren't you," I ask the two.

"Yes, ma'am," they say in unison, then Angel gently took my chin and turned my head to the side.

"That'll need to be stitched up and Emery doesn't have any needles or thread," Angel muttered to his brother.

"We could take her to the clubhouse," Ezekiel said, "She must know we're Mayans.".

I nod, feeling my blood run cold. I had already guessed that when I saw Ezekiel's vest, but I had put that on the back burner in my mind when he and I had started talking. It had been pushed out of my mind when the fight had begun.

"We won't hurt ya," Angel said, patting my arm, "but one of us will have to escort you there.".

I blink, then as I began to speak Ezekiel had said what I had been thinking, "Call Dad. I think she'd be more comfortable over at the motel. It would be neutral ground even though the Sons disbanded.".

What else can happen to me today?