by Ivy Black
A trail of bullets tears through the spot where I’d been standing just a moment before, kicking up chunks of dirt and debris. The air is driven from my lungs with a loud “oomph”, and I look up to see Monk hovering over me.
“Jesus, dude,” I croak. “What did you play, linebacker?”
“Free safety, actually. And you’re welcome.”
A hail of shots rings out as our guys return fire, and I hear the definitive smacking sound of bullets hitting sheet metal. I hear a man scream in agony as one of the bullets punches into him, and a moment later, the sound of squealing tires reverberates through the air around us. The roar of the SUV’s engine fades as it races away, and a couple of beats later, everything in the yard is still.
Monk climbs off me and helps me up. We take a beat to dust ourselves off, both of us still watching the gates suspiciously. I half expect to see a cartel hit squad to come rushing in, guns blazing. But so far, it remains empty. I look over at Monk to see him tying his sandy brown hair back into a tail. Apparently, putting a hit on me as hard as he did had knocked it loose. He flashes me a lopsided smile.
“Thanks for havin’ my ass,” I say.
“I think you mean to say, saving your ass. Saving.”
I laugh. “Fine. Saving.”
“Better,” Monk says with a laugh.
“Everybody all right?” Prophet calls out. “Anybody hit?”
Thankfully, nobody on our side took a bullet in the exchange. The only thing I hope is that whoever tagged the shooter got him with a shot that’s fatal. Watching everybody come out from cover and converge in the center of the compound reminds me a lot of my old unit in Afghanistan coming out the other side of a firefight.
There are a lot of relieved smiles, gallows humor, and rueful laughter rippling through the group. Everybody’s casting a wary eye at the gate, however, waiting for the black SUV to come back. A couple of the guys run to the gate, warily sticking their heads out before turning back and giving us the all-clear signal. They roll the gate shut and throw the bar down to lock it from the outside.
That helps cut some of the tension in the yard, but not by much. It’s going to take some time for everybody to relax given that we just got shot up. That and I think that everybody knows what this means and what’s coming next. I glance over at Prophet to find him staring at the gate and the wall beside it. Even from where I’m standing, I can see the bullet holes punched through the metal.
Prophet clears his throat and looks around at all of us, his expression grim and taut with anger. He exchanges glances with Doc and some silent bit of communication passes between them. Back on the clubhouse steps, Bala is standing in the doorway, a deep scowl on his face. What I don’t see in his expression is surprise. That strikes a strange chord in me.
“Everybody sure they’re all right?” Prophet calls out.
The guys all nod. Nobody’s been dinged up. Being veterans, they knew to take cover the moment the shooting started. After confirming that nobody had been hit, Prophet gives us all a nod.
“Okay, then. We’re going to figure out who just hit is—”
“I think we know who hit us,” Monk says.
“The operative word there is think… as in don’t do it, Monk. We’re not going off on anybody halfcocked and without proper intel. I want confirmation before we do something that ignites a bigger war,” Prophet fires back.
Although we all hear the common sense in Prophet’s words, it’s obvious to us who just opened fire on the clubhouse. Zavala. There’s no question about it in my mind, or the minds of anybody else standing here. And we all want to deliver a little payback to that son of a bitch.
But I know he’s right. We shouldn’t go wading into something like this based on our assumptions. For all we know, this is some other MC that know there are problems brewing between the Pharaohs and the cartel looking to stir up some shit. It’s not likely, but the possibility exists. And until we can rule any of that other shit out, we shouldn’t be trading shots with anybody. I think everybody else gets it, too.
But it’s hard to keep the guys calm when our blood is up the way it is. Nobody comes in here and takes shots at us and gets away with it. Something needs to be done about it. Somebody needs to pay.
Prophet nods. “All right. Go back to doing your thing. Just watch your sixes. Watch everybody else’s six, too, while you’re at it. We don’t know if these assclowns are coming back.”
“And be sure that gate stays closed at all times for now,” Doc adds.
They both turn and walk over to exchange some words with Bala. I watch them for a moment, wanting nothing more than to be a fly on the wall. A moment later, they’re exchanging handshakes and a manly hug with the requisite hard thump on the back.
As Prophet and Doc disappear back into the clubhouse, Bala is heading down the steps and toward a car, further emphasizing the fact that he’s gone extremely low profile to be here. It only raises my level of curiosity, but it also presents me with the only chance of getting any intel on what the fuck is going on around here. Moving quickly, I intercept him before he gets the car. Looking pointedly at the car, then at him, I give him an arrogant smirk.
“A Prius? Seriously? Did your vagina come stock with that, or was that a special edition?” I ask.
He laughs grimly. “Go fuck yourself, puto. Ain’t nobody gonna be lookin’ for me in one of these things. Besides, you seen gas prices lately? If you were smart, you’d get one of these suckers, too. They’re ugly as shit, but they can driver forever.”
“Yeah, well, the bike’s always been good for me. But if I ever need to go somewhere, I know nobody’s going to recognize me, I’ll give it some thought.”
I lean against the car and fold my arms over my chest, signaling that he won’t be leaving until I’m ready to let him go. And at the moment, I’m not willing to get out of his way until I get some answers.
“You know, coming in here dressed like… that,” I begin and gesture at his outfit, “and ridin’ a goddamn Prius no less, it almost seems like you’re going all incognito or somethin’ like that.”
“Yeah, it’s somethin’ like that,” he replies.
“What’s going on?”
“Man, you know I can’t tell you shit. Prophet would have my nuts.”
“C’mon man. We just got shot up. I’m positive I saw some cartel guys in town yesterday. I’m sure the two things are connected, yeah?”
He looks around, as though making sure there was nobody within earshot of us. There’s not, but he steps a bit closer to me and pitches his voice low, anyway.
“Look, all I can tell you is there’s some heavy shit goin’ down. I thought there was more time, but there’s not. Zavala’s comin’ for you guys,” he says.
“We knew that already. So, what’s it got to do with you? Why all the cloak and dagger shit, man?”
He sucks in a breath, looking torn. Bala glances at the clubhouse, clearly uncomfortable being here out in the open like this. He’d obviously told Prophet he’d keep a lid on it, but he seems to want to tell me regardless of what he’d promised. The fact that he’d break his word tells me that what’s coming is going to be even more hairy than I even thought. It’s not very comforting.
“Look, all I can tell you is that Tarantula and I aren’t down with the bullshit the cartel’s doin’. We ain’t into the fact that they’re traffickin’ fuckin’ kids, ese. That’s some shit that don’t fly with us, and some of the other guys in our club. There’s goin’ to be some changes in our MC’s leadership real soon,” he says.
“That’s good to know, and I think that’s a good thing, man. But what does that have to do with us?”
“Because the more you guys weaken Zavala, the more likely it is that the changes we’re tryin’ to make stick. Helps make sure things don’t get all sideways on us and we all end up eating shit. And that’s seriously all I can tell you right now, ese. I don’t want to step in shit with your prez either,” he says.
“
Fair enough. Appreciate you tellin’ me what you can.”
He embraces me and thumps me hard on the back. “You just watch your nalgas, holmes. You’re a pinche guero, but I like you, anyway.”
“Appreciate it, brother. And watch your ass, too, man. Sounds like we’re both goin’ to be gettin’ into some shit sooner.”
He nods and I step out of the way, letting him get into his car. Looking down at him in the driver’s seat, I laugh and shake my head.
“Seriously, get yourself a real car and grow your balls back. I’m embarrassed for you, cabron,” I tell him.
He shoots me the finger but smiles. “Chinga tu madre, puto.”
Bala shuts the door, then starts his car. I watch as he pulls to the gate and one of the guys opens for him, then slams it shut and locks it after he’s gone. As I watch the guys, some of them fortifying the walls, others cleaning their weapons, I feel like I’m in a compound in Afghanistan all over again. The air is dripping with tension, and I swear to God, it feels like we’re sitting on a razor’s edge, waiting for the Taliban to hit us.
“Well, shit,” Derek says as he steps up beside me. “The way things are going, you probably want to call Ashley sooner rather than later. Might be your last chance to get laid.”
For once, I agree with him.
Chapter Seventeen
Ashley
“And here I thought when you said you were going to pick me up that I’d be riding on the back of your motorcycle,” I tell him.
He smiles as he opens the passenger door of a black Dodge Ram. The truck is impeccably clean and detailed, and of course, seems to have all the bells and whistles on it. I’m not really a truck girl, but even I have to say that it’s nice.
“The bike doesn’t have a back seat. The truck does though, and it’s really comfortable,” he says suggestively, making me laugh.
“Pro tip… you should never say something so piggish so early on a first date.”
“Huh. That line usually drops a woman’s panties within thirty seconds,” he says.
“Yeah well, I’m not most women.”
“I know. That’s why I like you.”
He shuts the door and walks around the front of the truck, leaving me to ponder his words. Maybe it’s silly but hearing him say that he likes me with such sincerity in his voice sends an electric thrill through me. I’m just not used to having a man be so genuinely interested in me or pay the kind of attention that Max is lavishing on me, and it feels really nice.
He climbs in behind the wheel and glances over at me, giving me a smile. Max really is a handsome man. Gorgeous, would probably be a better word. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a tingling warmth growing between my thighs. But I clear my throat and push those feelings away since I still haven’t decided whether or not I can be that kind of a girl yet. I have needs and desires—and I definitely desire Max and have a feeling he can meet my needs quite well—but I’m not sure if I’m ready to throw caution to the wind like that.
Sister Ashley Margaret is still very much alive and well, apparently.
“You’re not wearing your little leather vest,” I notice.
He laughs softly. “It’s called a kutte.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know there was an official term for it. I didn’t mean to offend your manhood by calling it something so effeminate,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Oh, you’re welcome to offend my manhood anytime you’d like. But you have to kiss it and make it all better afterward,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“You are incorrigible. Seriously incorrigible,” I tell him.
“And yet… you agreed to go out with me, anyway. So, what does that say about you, I wonder?”
“That I apparently have some issues.”
“Good thing I like ’em a little crazy,” he says, making me laugh again.
He starts the truck, and we pull away from the curb, and I can almost feel Missy’s eyes on me. I’m picturing her hiding behind the curtain in the living room, peeking out around the corner like my mom used to do whenever I went out with somebody back in high school. It’s kind of adorable.
“That’s a really nice house,” he says. “Have you lived there long?”
“Oh, it’s not my house. It’s my friend’s. My son and I are just staying in her guest house for a while. My friend is watching him tonight.”
He cocks his head and looks at me. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I tell him.
“Touché,” he replies.
Something about the set of his body changes, and it seems obvious that he’s uncomfortable with the idea of kids, which is a clear problem. And if it’s going to be an issue, it’s probably best we address it now and go our separate ways, so we don’t waste each other’s time.
“Do you not like kids or something?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’ve just never been around many kids in my life.”
“You just seem… tense. It seems like you don’t like children.”
His expression darkens as he focuses on the road, and it’s clear to me that there’s a story there.
“It’s not that I don’t like kids. It’s just that I had a… bad experience,” he says cryptically.
“A bad experience?”
“Yeah. When I was overseas. It was… I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Well, if you want to date me, then you need to know my son is the center of my life and I make no apologies for it. He’s the reason I’m here in town. So, if this is going to be a problem for you, then we should probably just—”
“It’s not a problem for me at all. It’s not that I hate kids or think you need to hide your son from me. I just… it just brings up a few issues of my own.”
I can hear the pain in his voice, and it sends a ripple of sadness through my heart. It makes me wonder what could have happened to him over there to have made him seem so afraid of children. But it at least eases my mind somewhat in that I’m reasonably sure he doesn’t have some deep-seated loathing of children. He’s scared of them, and in my experience, the best way to get somebody over their fear is to help them face, then overcome it.
I look over at him and give him a devilish smirk. “Good thing I like ’em a little crazy, too.”
His explosion of laughter seems as much as a releasing of his tension as it is that he finds me funny. But it certainly cuts the thickness from the air, and I think both of us are breathing a little easier. At least, I know I am. It’s crazy to think it, but the idea of this being over before we started actually hit me pretty hard. When I told him that we should probably stop before we start, it felt like a kick to the gut. It made me sad.
It’s nuts given that I don’t actually know this guy, but there is something about him that connects with me. It’s not just that he’s a gorgeous man who I’m sure can rock my world in bed, it’s that I see something in him that’s surprising to me. With all of his innuendos, double entendres, and sexually charged remarks, he tries to posture as this smarmy cad who’s just looking for a piece of ass.
And I’m not saying he’s not looking to get laid. But I’m positive that’s not the only thing he’s looking for. I’m positive that I’m the one who would have to make the first move or give him some signal that I’m open to having sex with him. When he looks at me, even when he’s making some sexual innuendo, I can see it’s all a game to him. He enjoys the chase as much as I do. He enjoys seeing how far he can push things, and how much I’m willing to give. But I also know he’s not willing to cross the lines I impose.
He’s not the sort of guy who just uses women then discards them, unless that was all they were looking for and that’s what they had arranged. When I look at him, I see the depth of his kindness, compassion, and respect. And I see that he knows where the boundaries are. He may position himself as some over-the-top Casanova, and though he’s definitely charming as hell, I have
a feeling I’d have to talk him into having sex with me. It’s actually kind of sweet.
“So, where are we going?” I ask.
“We’re going to a place called the Fish Bucket. Best seafood in California as far as I’m concerned,” he replies, then whips his head around and looks at me. “I mean, you do like seafood, right?”
“No, I hate it.”
“Oh. Well, good thing I have another place—”
He bites his words off when I burst out laughing. Max looks at me with a wry grin, knowing I’d just gotten him. The truth is, I love seafood. I just wanted to tweak him a little bit just because it’s fun.
“You are an asshole,” he says.
“Sometimes,” I reply.
“Yeah, fine. Laugh it up. I’m not going to be falling for your shit again.”
“I never knew you were so gullible.”
“Shut up,” he fires back with a laugh.
We banter back and forth, taking turns making each other laugh all the way to the restaurant. And by the time we get there, my cheeks and my sides are hurting from laughing as much as we did. I can honestly say that I’ve not laughed so hard or so much in longer than I can even remember.
The valet opens the door and lets me out as Max takes a ticket, then comes around the truck to where I’m standing. He looks me up and down as if seeing me for the first time and whistles low, which touches off a furious blush in my cheeks.
“Wow. You look fantastic,” he says.
“And you’re just now noticing?”
“At least I noticed,” he replies.
“I suppose that’s true. I’ll give you half credit for noticing.”
“Hey, cut me some slack. It’s been a while since I’ve been out on a date. And since I believe in genuine equality between the sexes, if we’re being fair, you didn’t seem to notice that I’d prettied myself up for you either,” he says.
He holds his arms out wide and turns in a circle, showing himself off to me. At least I have an excuse for not noticing… I’ve been nervous as hell since he picked me up. But now that I’m feeling a little more relaxed, I notice him. And I’m enjoying the way his black jeans cling to what looks like a very tight ass, and his black button-down shirt accentuates the lean, taut muscles of his body. His beard his neatly trimmed, and even his hair is swept back and nicely styled.