Ruger pulled up in front of Drifters twenty minutes later, parked his bike with the others, and went inside.
“Where you been?” Gizmo called out as soon as Ruger stepped in the door. “I been trying to get ahold of you all day.”
“If it had been urgent you would have sent a 911.” Ruger ignored the look of surprise that crossed his friend’s face and the narrow-eyed look that followed. He went behind the bar and checked things there before moving to his office in the back. Gizmo didn’t hesitate to follow.
“You left with a chick last night. Someone might think getting laid by a piece of ass like that would put you in a bet—” Gizmo didn’t get a chance to finish what he was saying because Ruger spun around and grabbed the front of Gizmo’s shirt in one fist. Ruger shoved him against the wall.
“
