Misrule

by Kelly, Kathryn C.

  She shimmied her hips as he led her through the maze of tables to the back of the place. She ignored the stares and hoots from horny bikers. While most women would be ashamed of this kind of attention, she loved it. She was a beautiful woman. Catcalls and stares came with the territory. Besides, the extra male attention validated her looks.

  “Who greeted you when we walked in?” Emily asked as Johnnie held out her chair and allowed her to sit. “Or do you know?” she added as he sat in his own chair.

  He shook his head. “It sounded like Marion, but I’m not sure.”

  “Interesting name for a biker.”

  He shrugged.

  She clucked with sympathy, reached over and placed her hand against his forearm. “Have you started divorce proceedings yet?”

  His muscles tensed underneath her fingertips.

  “No.” He sounded pathetic.

  Emily slumped her shoulders and moved her hand away from his arm. “You’re just stringing me along then? Once you get into my panties, you’re leaving?”

  “Emily, don’t press me on a relationship. I’m still a married man. If you can’t deal with that, then leave.”

  Annoyance flashed through her, but she breathed in deep and covered her aggravation with a smile. “I feel such a strong connection to you. I won’t leave until you send me away.” She sniffled. “You’ll tear my heart to pieces but I’m a big girl. I’ll deal with it.”

  “I don’t know…do I want you because I’m lonely or because I’m truly attracted to you?”

  To stop her glare, Emily bit her lip.

  Anger and humiliation vied for a place within her. Johnnie still held feelings for her old rival. Not that it was a competition. Emily was above Kendall in almost every way, except looks. For the life of her, Emily couldn’t understand why Johnnie still had feelings for the whore.

  A frown marred his face. “What am I doing here?” he asked more to himself than to her.

  She looked at him through her lashes. “Getting to know me. I’m here for you. Can we please talk over whatever is bothering you? Have a drink or two to unwind?”

  He sighed but nodded his agreement.

  A smile spread over her face. Men had always given her what she wanted. “Thank you.”

  A few more corny words, and he’d be ready to fall at her feet.

  Johnnie stared at Emily, wondering why he’d invited her out. He was trying his damnedest to get into her and forget her past with Kendall, and give her the second chance he told himself she deserved. If Emily could bring him happiness, why not have a relationship with her?

  Except she seemed like a phony. He wasn’t sure why he felt as he did. Maybe…maybe, because of her looks. Or, maybe, he kept replaying the scene at Kendall’s house in his head. She hadn’t invited him to a session yet. On the other hand, he hadn’t called her to check on her. His actions had to show her how fed up he was.

  Even if Kendall stayed uppermost in his thoughts.

  He and Emily were now on their third round of drinks, and Emily was gushing over something he didn’t care about. She constantly touched him and leaned over to bring attention to her tits, already on prominent display. She was trying hard to seduce him.

  Once upon a time, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to date, or just fuck, Megan’s doppelganger. Now, however, he felt no desire toward Emily or Megan. The only woman he truly wanted was Kendall. But between his wife’s infatuation with Christopher, her jealously of Megan, and numerous schemes, their relationship was on its last thread. If only Kendall could realize that she was the only woman he wanted.

  Johnnie was so miserable without her. He would give anything for their marriage to work.

  “Johnnie, are you listening?” Emily’s question broke into his thoughts, a frown marring her pretty face.

  “Yes, of course,” he lied.

  She sighed and leaned back. When she crossed her legs, his attention strayed to them. “Kiss me,” she said.

  Johnnie brought his gaze to hers. The depths of her blue eyes gleamed. Before he turned her down, she stood.

  There was a small space between his chair and the table that she managed to insert herself into before sliding onto his lap and straddling his thighs.

  She rocked against his cock. “I don’t have any panties on,” she whispered.

  Johnnie groaned, his dick hardening.

  Planting her mouth over his, she took his face between her hands and tapped the tip of her tongue against his lips. Johnnie opened and allowed her onslaught, returning her kiss, trying to drum up some emotion. He could fuck her then and there, but he was so passed easy lays. His marriage had ruined him for that. He wanted something meaningful. He wanted to matter.

  But he didn’t matter to Kendall. She’d drugged him and led him to choke Megan. She’d gotten him shot.

  Growling, Johnnie grabbed Emily’s ass and squeezed, thrusting his cock up.

  “I want you to fuck me,” Emily breathed against his mouth.

  He stilled, her words tantamount to a bucket of ice being thrown on him. “Get up, sweetheart.”

  “Huh?”

  He lifted her by her waist and set her on her feet, then stood. “Let’s go.”

  She licked her lips. “I’m going to suck your cock the entire drive to my house.”

  It would be so easy to take relief in her mouth and pussy. Instead…he held his hand up and pointed to his wedding band. “As long as Kendall is my wife, I’m not going to sleep with you, Emily.”

  Her smile wavered. “Me in particular? Or any other woman?”

  “Any woman,” he corrected. “You’re beautiful, sexy, everything I would want.”

  “Except there’s Kendall,” she said softly, sadly. “I thought you two were over.”

  “I don’t know what we are. Until I figure that out, you and I can only be friends.”

  “Kendall is so lucky to have you,” Emily said, her tone as wistful as her look.

  “I was lucky to have her,” he amended. “But…but she’s formidable. I put every faith in her, so much so that I never questioned her actions or her motives time and time again. I just…trusted her.”

  Bending down, Emily placed a gentle kiss against Johnnie’s mouth, then fingered his lips. “I’m here,” she said sweetly. “For as long as you need me. I’ve grown to care about you so much. If you’ve friend-zoned me, then I have to accept that. But if you need a no-strings attached fuck, I’ll gladly open my pussy to you.”

  Clenching his jaw, Johnnie glanced away.

  “I hope tonight hasn’t thrown our relationship off its intended track, b—"

  “What do you mean its intended track?”

  Her eyes widened and she laughed nervously.

  “Emily?” Johnnie questioned, after minutes of silence.

  “I just hoped by now our relationship would’ve progressed more. I’m just so disappointed,” she added woefully.

  “I understand,” Johnnie said as he led her toward the door.

  The whistles and stares she received didn’t bother him in the least. That alone spoke volumes.

  Chapter Fifty

  Walking into Haynes’s Bike Shop, Knox paused. The sun shining through the store windows hit the chrome on the row of bikes and made them gleam with awe-inspiring brilliance. He couldn’t believe when he walked out of this place today, he’d have a motorcycle in his life. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he’d be a biker. A mere month after talking to Mortician about joining the club, Knox was well on his way. The outline of tattoos had been drawn on his chest and arm, and he’d purchased a stack of books on how to ride. He just had to find the time to read them.

  “May I help you, sir?” a lanky boy asked, too young to have much knowledge about the powerful machines before him. His long ponytail reached his waist; huge gauges deformed his earlobes; the tattooed triangles and squares on his fingers must’ve been painful to receive. A biker in the making. Perhaps, a trainee at the shop.

  Knox loo
ked at the boy’s name tag. “Uh, Chet, hi. I’m Knox Harrington. Can you please call someone familiar with the bikes?”

  Chet smiled. “I’m familiar. My dad owns the shop. I’ve been around them since I was a baby.”

  “I see.”

  “What type of bike are you looking for? Touring, Cruiser, Sport?”

  “It doesn’t matter. As long as it is the best. Top of the line.”

  Chet scratched the peach fuzz on his chin. “What experience do you have?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Frustrated, Knox started down the row of bikes. Some were smaller, probably built for speed, while others were huge, double-seated hogs, with all sorts of levers and switches. A low rider with shiny purple paint and chrome so brilliant Knox saw the reflection of his legs. He thought of Roxanne’s Navigator. Bikes were meant to have unusual comments. Cars were not. Besides, he still hadn’t bought the SUV for her.

  Hands behind his back, he moved on, stopping at a motorcycle painted a dark gray, with just a dab of red on the black equipment where the chrome should be. It had two antennas, a second seat with a back as well as arm rests, and impressive handlebars.

  “I want this one,” Knox announced. “When you write up the specs, please be sure to order deluxe seatbelts.”

  “Seatbelts?”

  “You do know what they are, don’t you?” Knox demanded with impatience. “They keep you safe on the road.”

  “Uh…yeah,” Chet said with some hesitation. “I mean, sure. Since you can handle any machine.”

  “Exactly.” Knox pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and got his American Express Centurion. “Charge the card please.”

  “Let me get my dad,” Chet said, accepting the card. He started to turn away, then stopped. “I’ll also need your ID.”

  “Of course.” Knox got his driver’s license and handed it to Chet.

  “You have a motorcycle license, don’t you?”

  “Do I need one to make this purchase?”

  “No, sir. You need it to ride. You also need motorcycle insurance.”

  “Let me worry about that. You just do your job and make the sale.”

  Chet frowned. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, starting away again, then halting. “Outlaw!”

  “Chet!” Outlaw said through a cloud of cigarette smoke. As he reached Chet, Outlaw shoved the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and clapped the boy on his back. “Where the fuck Haynes at?”

  “I’ll get him. I was going to run a card, so I’m heading that way.”

  “What the fuck you mean run a fuckin’ card?” Grabbing the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, he released the smoke, then glared at Knox. “You ain’t chose a fuckin’ bike, alfuckinready, assfuck.”

  Chet glanced over his shoulder then faced Outlaw again.

  “You know him?”

  Knox stiffened at the sound of the kid’s voice.

  Chuckling, Outlaw took a few steps backward and stopped at a freestanding ashtray and took care of the cigarette. “Knowin’ I know this motherfucker un-fuckin-believable for my ass, too, Chet.”

  “Oh, I like that,” Knox snapped. “If you feel that way, may I add I’m just as incredulous that I know you. How does that make you feel?”

  Outlaw snatched the credit card from Chet and continued toward Knox. “Like I don’t give a good fuck. We ain’t here to discuss how the fuck the fates frowned the fuck on us and we ran the fuck ‘cross each other path, so shut the fuck up.” Slamming the American Express against Knox’s chest, he pointed to the bike Knox chose. “You ain’t buyin’ this motherfucker.”

  “I beg to differ. I am buying this motherfucker. It’s my money so I can buy any motherfucker I want.”

  “First of fuckin’ all, my ass gettin’ a bike just like this one, so ain’t no fuckin’ way you gettin’ the same motherfucker. Second, you ain’t knowin’ how the fuck to ride, so this ain’t the bike for you.” He went to a smaller bike near the end of the row. “This the motherfucker you gettin’. It’s lightweight and easy to fuckin’ handle.”

  “I’m not stupid, Outlaw! I don’t need a lightweight bike. I don’t have to buy this one, since you’ve claimed exclusivity. But I want something just as high-end.”

  “Get something high-end and not only ain’t I teachin’ you to fuckin’ ride, ain’t no motherfucker at the club doin’ it. You either get the motherfucker I say to get or you on your fuckin’ own.”

  “There are riding courses I can attend. I don’t need the club.”

  Outlaw shrugged. “Ain’t no skin off my fuckin’ nuts. But you ridin’ that motherfucker back to the club.”

  “No, I’m not,” Knox insisted. “We came in your pick-up to transport my new bike.”

  “Because you ain’t fuckin’ knowin’ how to ride.”

  “Exactly. Although I’m sure I just have to watch you ride once to get the gist of it, how do you expect me to ride a bike I don’t know how to operate?”

  “You the motherfucker with the biggest fuckin’ brain. You ain’t listenin’ to me on the type of bike you should get. You ain’t needin’ my cage to get your fuckin’ ride back to the club.”

  “I thought I heard your voice, Outlaw,” a tall, barrel-chested man said as he walked up and stepped between Chet and Outlaw. This man was an inch or two taller than Outlaw.

  Grinning, Outlaw turned and clapped his hand with the big man’s in some type of gang greeting.

  “What’s up, brother?” the man asked.

  “Comin’ to see what the fuck you got for a fuckin’ noob. How shit goin’?”

  “Can’t complain. Next class is full. We got full bays on the other side, and sales of bikes and gear been good.”

  Outlaw nodded.

  “Got some new gear Meggie might like—”

  Knox cleared his throat. “Excuse me? I’m Knox Harrington. You are?”

  The giant held his paw out. “Chet Haynes. But just call me Haynes.”

  “Yeah, this assfuck wanna learn to ride,” Outlaw explained as if he hadn’t exhibited his lack of social skills by not making introductions.

  “Do you want to visit the machine shop, Outlaw?” Haynes asked, not responding to Outlaw’s announcement.

  “Ain’t ever turnin’ that down.” Outlaw started forward, then stopped and beckoned Knox. “Come on, motherfucker.”

  Not trusting Outlaw not to leave him if he didn’t follow the directive, Knox stomped behind him. In the middle of the showroom floor stood a spiral staircase that led upstairs. Oversized pictures of vintage Harleys hung on the walls over display cases filled with merchandise. In the center of the back wall, a few feet from a closed door, stood the circular checkout counter and another young man who resembled the two Chets behind it.

  They walked behind the counter and headed to the door. Seeing daylight surprised Knox. Outside, across a small parking lot sat a building with four repair bays, each filled with motorcycles.

  As they reached the shop, one of the mechanics revved an engine. The acrid scent of exhaust and hot metal burned Knox’s throat and turned his stomach. Another mechanic looked toward Knox and the three others, and stopped, cutting a hand across his neck. Everything halted.

  “Outlaw!” one of them called, as if the man was some type of living god.

  Smiling, Outlaw greeted each of the four new men, then went from bike-to-bike listening to whatever the ass kissers told him. He’d point to this or that, drawing even the two Chets in. Knox hung back, not interested in hearing anyone else give Outlaw the idea that he was an all-knowing being.

  “Knox!” Outlaw finally called, waving him over.

  Scowling, Knox took care with his steps, not trusting what the black puddles might be. He didn’t want his expensive clothes ruined. He stopped near the cult leader and his followers and squeezed his nose to close his nostrils. Damning his lack of a handkerchief, Knox ignored his watering eyes.

  “What the fuck you doin’?” Outlaw demanded.

  “Bl
ocking the smells. What do you think?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Outlaw closed his eyes, pleasure clear on his face. He smirked at Knox. “Ain’t nothin’ like the smell of the machine shop. It soothes a man soul.”

  The other men nodded in agreement, annoying Knox to no end.

  “This Knox Harrington,” Outlaw introduced. “He marryin’ Roxanne. K-P old lady.”

  Giant Chet smiled, but didn’t look at Knox, so he missed Knox’s rising anger. “How is she? She was always such a gorgeous thing. Two things that always stood out about her were that face and that foul mouth. Just my type of woman.”

  “She’s my woman,” Knox snapped, “so don’t talk about her as if she’s a piece of meat. Take note of that, Outlaw. She doesn’t belong to K-P.”

  “Ignore this motherfucker. Roxanne pissed off at him, so he been tryna commit suifuckincide. Ain’t obligin’ him today, though.”

  “Very fucking funny,” Knox said.

  “You see my motherfuckin’ ass laughin’, Knox? I can shoot the fuck outta you right the fuck here. Roxanne ain’t knowin’ you with my ass. You grounded and she just gonna end up believin’ you fuckin’ ducked out.”

  “This is a business. You can’t commit murders here.”

  “The fuck I can’t,” Outlaw said with irritation, “since majority of this motherfucker belong to the fuckin’ club.”

  “Are you kidding me? You own the tattoo shop you sent me to. You own this bike shop that you expect me to buy from. What other place of business belongs to you that you want me to visit?”

  “A fucking funeral home,” Outlaw answered. “You interested in me sendin’ you there for business?”

  As Outlaw stared at Knox, the other men chuckled.

  “I’m going back inside,” Knox growled, spinning on his heel and walking back to the door that led to the showroom. He returned to the bike he’d wanted to buy.

  It was big and beautiful, a real statement maker. It was the type of bike Knox deserved. The kind that would catch Roxanne’s attention.

  Footfalls pounded on the metal staircase in the center of the shop. Knox looked toward the sound and saw Outlaw following Giant Chet to the second floor. Wanting to know where they were going, Knox followed. Although half the size of downstairs, this floor contained racks and shelves of gear—jackets, shirts, boots, helmets, gloves, amongst other items.