“I was about to. You had so much going on already. I wasn’t entirely sure…”
“What weren’t you sure of, Jaimie? Me?”
“No! I mean, yes…I mean, it’s all new, I’m still trying to figure out what all is happening.”
The side door opens and Mom sticks her head in. “Everything all right?”
“It’s fine, Mom. Go to bed.” She glances at Trunk, whose glare hasn’t wavered from me, before giving me a nod and closing the door.
“Was it my truck parked outside your door last night?” he snaps, the moment she’s gone. “My hands on your body? My dick pounding inside you?”
“Trunk…” I start, but he’s not done yet.
“I’m no fucking expert on relationships, Jaimie, but when a woman talks to everyone but her man, the message is clear. Even for me.”
With long strides he walks right by me, shoving his feet in his boots, and grabbing his coat before he’s out the door, slamming it behind him.
Upstairs, River starts crying loudly.
Yup. I fucked that up good.
CHAPTER 15
Trunk
FUCK ME.
I run my hands over my face before glancing at my phone on the nightstand.
Three fucking forty-five and I haven’t slept a wink.
I shouldn’t have left like that. I’d been home for only about twenty minutes before I clued in to that. Sure, she should’ve told me, but I didn’t even give her a chance to explain why she didn’t. Not that there is any excuse to justify keeping something like that from me, but I could’ve listened. Instead I blew up, left Jaimie upset, her mom freaked, and I could hear River wailing when I walked away from the house. That shit looks real good on me.
I can come up with a laundry list of excuses why my fuse was so damn short, but in the end, I still lost it.
It’s the middle of the goddamn night, I doubt I’ll get any sleep, and there’s nothing I can do to try and fix things right now. Frustrated and pissed at myself, I swing my legs over the edge and pull my jeans back on.
Heading down the hall, I notice the mess. I’ve barely been home these past two weeks and piles of dirty laundry have formed everywhere. The sink is full of dirty dishes, and I’m pretty sure whatever I have in the fridge is by now well past its expiration date. Thank God I drink my coffee black.
With the Keurig doing its thing, I start picking up dirty shirts and socks I seem to have left all over my living room. I gave up on boxers years ago, ever since Tahlula got her own apartment after she graduated.
I’m not a slob—exactly—I just like being efficient with my time. I spend as long picking one day’s worth of shit up as a week’s worth. Doing it once a week makes more sense, except I seem to have missed a few weeks.
I toss everything in the laundry room and fetch the rest from the bathroom and bedroom. My coffee is brewed by the time I have the first load running, and I take a big swig, letting the strong liquid slide down my throat.
Three hours later, I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet—wired—as I fry up a couple of frozen burger patties on the stove. It was the only edible thing I could find and I’m starving. I scarf down breakfast while watching the news on TV.
I’m feeling pretty good; my house hasn’t been this clean since I moved in last year, and as soon as the food settles in my stomach, the plan is to hop in the shower and drive over to Jaimie’s to grovel.
_______________
“You’re fuckin’ late,” Ouray barks when I rush into the meeting at five past eleven.
I grunt in response as I take my seat, still breathing hard.
I fucking woke up fifteen minutes ago in front of some infomercial, took a three-minute freezing shower cause I didn’t have time to wait for the water to heat, and beelined it over here. What started off as a good morning is going to shit fast. I haven’t even called or messaged Jaimie, so nothing’s been fixed there. The more time I let pass, the more difficult that’s going to be.
Yuma storms in seconds after me.
“Someone else who can’t fuckin’ tell time. Now that we’re all here, let’s get to business,” Ouray continues. “The good news: the gym and studio have been up and running and don’t seem to have suffered much in the way of revenue. The bad news is that Brewer’s Pub has suffered. Even after the health inspector cleared the restaurant, we did less than half our regular business in the past weeks. It’s gonna take a long fucking time to rebuild the good reputation we had in this community.” He turns to Yuma. “Did you get the figures for the apartments?”
“Yeah. Of the twenty-two leases, five are coming up for renewal first of May. Four of those tenants don’t plan on renewing. Two others have not returned and are threatening to take it to court if we force them to pay the penalty for breaking their lease.”
“What you’re saying is we haven’t just depleted our reserves, but we’ve lost a substantial chunk of our income. We’re fucked,” Paco complains.
“We’re knocked down, not out. Which brings me to the next item on the agenda…”
Ouray proceeds to describe Chains’s proposal to loud shouts of objection in colorful language. He slams his hammer down on the table to get some order in the room.
“Keep your shorts on. Not a chance in hell I’m going to fuckin’ risk what we’ve built this past decade,” he continues. “Talked to Tink last night. Just making sure he’s actually backing his vice president on this. Found out he’s got stage four liver cancer.”
“Death sentence,” Honon mutters.
“Right,” Ouray agrees. “Took the fire out of him. Short of it is, he’s left the running of the club in Chains’s hands.”
“That fucking sucks,” Paco grumbles. “Chains is gonna be a loose cannon without Tink’s leash around his neck.”
“At least we know what we’re dealing with,” Lusio, who’s one of the quieter brothers, suggests.
“How do you figure that?” Paco snaps.
“Chains may be a loose cannon, but he’s clever. I’d bet my left nut, he made sure he had some leverage on Arrow’s Edge before approaching the chief.”
“Not much of a fuckin’ bet; just your left nut,” Honon points out.
“That one’s my favorite,” Lusio jokes, grabbing his crotch.
Ouray ignores the banter. “He’s right. Weaken your enemy, before engaging them in battle.”
“You saying this is war, Chief?”
“No, we should be prepared for anything, but we’re gonna handle this smart. We’re gonna strengthen our ranks and expand our business.”
The next forty-five minutes are spent discussing the addition of an auto shop to the compound, and how to increase membership.
“One last thing,” Ouray calls everyone to attention. “I want you to be alert. Keep in mind Arrow’s Edge is only as strong as our weakest brother. To divide is to conquer.”
I catch the quick flick of his eyes in Yuma’s direction, who is closely studying the wood grain in the table. Not hard to figure out why they were locked here last night.
With the meeting dismissed, everyone files out of the office, but Ouray calls me back.
“A minute?” I stay behind and take my seat again. “Luna mentioned you got Ahiga to talk to you.”
“Yeah. He says he got tired of Matt making fun of him so he let his fists fly.”
“Okay, but why didn’t he just say so?”
I shrug. “He claims it’s because he didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of it. Says he can handle things himself.”
Ouray tents his fingers under his chin. “And what do you think?”
“He may have a point. Lord knows we’re getting nowhere with Matt and if we call him out on this, he’ll likely dig in even deeper, only making things worse for Ahiga. I think we’re better off keeping a close eye out and making sure those two are not left alone together. Let them sort it out.”
Ouray nods. “Agreed.”
“Your son has respect from the other kids—bot
h because he’s the oldest and you’re his father. Coming in fresh off the street, it may be a natural response for Matt to try and challenge him for that position.”
“What about the other situation?” I know he’s referring to the talk I had with Istu.
“Same deal. I can try and feel some of the kids out during our regular talks, but let’s not push too hard and just keep an eye out. These kids feel cornered, their knee-jerk response is gonna be to bolt. That’s gonna create more problems than it’ll solve.”
It’s after one when I walk out of the clubhouse. Other than Matt and Ahiga, who are working at the kitchen table under Momma’s supervision, the kids will be in school until three thirty.
It doesn’t give me a lot of time, but maybe just enough to kick down a few bricks in that wall I know Jaimie is building.
I’m second-guessing that thought when I pull up and spot a little scrap of baby blue sticking out of the garbage can at the end of the driveway.
Jaimie
Maybe it’s for the best.
I started telling myself that when I woke up this morning after a restless night tossing and turning. Maybe it’s for the best. It sounds so adult and sensible, even if those are the last things I actually feel.
It’s not exactly ‘adult’ to shove your face into a pillow and scream out your frustration, nor is it particularly ‘sensible’ to toss your hundred thirty-five dollar sexy nightie in the garbage can outside.
I hid out in my office space upstairs all morning, avoiding Mom’s inquiring glances. I don’t feel ready to respond to. It’s a little after one when I surface for something to eat. I wasn’t hungry this morning but by now my stomach feels like it’s gnawing on me from the inside out.
I bump into Mom and River at the bottom of the stairs. My son is sleeping in her arms.
“I was just going to put him down for a bit,” she says. “He fell asleep in his high chair.” I bend down to kiss his soft, downy hair. “I left some chicken noodle soup on the stove for you. It should still be warm.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She continues up as I head to the kitchen. My mother makes the best chicken soup; it fixes whatever ails you. Sadly I’ve never been able to master it quite the way she makes it. As I close my eyes on the first spoonful, I wonder if she made it with fixing me in mind today.
“I think I’m going to have a nap as well,” she says, walking into the kitchen. “Call if you need me.”
I feel guilty when she disappears out the side door; I haven’t exactly been nice to her today. She’s been an absolute lifesaver; uprooting the city she’d lived in all her life just so she could help me find my feet. At sixty-two, she had an active life, gave it all up for us, and I’ve been taking her for granted.
I turn when the kitchen door opens again, thinking it’s Mom, but I’m shocked to find Trunk walking in, my new nightie in his large fist.
“What are you doing here?”
I wince, realizing how aggressive those words sound leaving my mouth. The only excuse I have is that I didn’t expect him. I thought I’d chased him off for good.
“Saving you from making a huge mistake,” he says, the deep rumble of his voice washing over me like a warm shower. “This still has the tag on it.” He holds the nightie up while kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot. “Seems a waste to toss it out. I was looking forward to peeling it off you.”
The last noodle I try to swallow goes down the wrong hole and I find myself choking on it. The next second a glass of water appears in front of me as a large hand starts rubbing my back. If I didn’t have tears running down my face as I try to suck in air, I might’ve purred.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage, as he tosses his coat over a kitchen chair only to sit down right beside me.
“For?” He seems genuinely confused.
“For not telling you about the box right away. For making you think I don’t trust you. Although in my defense, at the time you had your hands full and I wasn’t exactly clear on where we stood at the time.”
“They were clear to me. They’ve been clear for a while, which makes the way I reacted even worse.” Now it’s my time to be a little confused, especially when he frames my face in his hands. “It’s always worked for me; use my anger to deflect fear, or pain…or vulnerability. There aren’t many people able to make me feel any of those things.”
It takes me a moment to understand what he is saying, but when I do; I grab onto his wrists and close my eyes. “Trunk…”
“Sorry if I scared you, or your mom, and it fucking kills me knowing I made your boy cry.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I’m learning as I go here, Little Mama, but I want you to know you’ve got nothing to fear from me. Ever.”
“Shhh…” I press a finger to his lips before replacing it with my mouth, kissing him sweetly. We may be in over our heads at times, and don’t do so well communicating, but our bodies seem to have no trouble at all falling into sync.
All too soon Trunk ends the kiss, his dark eyes warm and liquid.
“Shee-it, James. You drive me to the edge of reason.”
CHAPTER 16
Trunk
IT’S ALMOST WARM tonight. Surprisingly so for the end of March.
“Let me bum one,” Ouray says, joining me outside the clubhouse where I’m having my after dinner smoke. I hand him my pack and lighter.
“Does your wife know you sneak off bumming smokes?”
“My wife knows better than anyone how imperfect I am. Besides, she’s an FBI agent; she knows everything.”
She probably does too. There’s not much that escapes Luna.
“Hear anything from Chains since the weekend?”
He shakes his head. “All quiet on that front, for now. We’ll hear from him eventually, I have no doubt.”
His eyes drift over my shoulder to the three-stall garage that housed the gym until a few days ago. Kaga’s buddy Brick, the mechanic, is heading down from Grand Junction this coming weekend to have a look, and Ouray wanted to make sure he’d be able to see the full potential. So when I got back here on Monday after stopping over at Jaimie’s to set things straight, it was all hands on deck.
The clubhouse basement, which apparently had been a catchall for all kinds of crap over the years, was suggested for the new gym. Not a bad idea, if you ask me. Makes far more sense to have it easily accessible. Especially in the winter.
Still, I could see why they hadn’t gotten around to moving it there before. The large space was packed with crap. The only accessible part was right at the bottom of the stairs, where the club’s industrial-sized washer and dryer were housed. The prior washer and dryer were still there, simply shoved out of the way. Boxes, broken furniture, bike parts, an old pool table, mattresses, it looked like crap had just been tossed down there without rhyme or reason.
It had taken every available hand a day and a half, plus a huge rented dumpster in front of the clubhouse, to empty out the space. It had been my suggestion to get the boys involved, thinking that working side by side on something that’ll benefit everyone might be good for them. Ouray had easily agreed, provided I supervise the kids.
Of course that meant I’ve barely had a chance to breathe, let alone hang out with Jaimie, who’s leaving for New York with my sister tomorrow.
“We’re almost done painting the garage. One more coat tomorrow should do it,” I share with Ouray.
“Good. Don’t know why we didn’t move the gym down there years ago. It’s seen more action just last night and this morning than the entire month before.”
“I’m sure it’ll slow down again once the newness wears off.”
A grunt is his response as he tosses his cigarette butt in the old coffee can and pulls the door open. “You coming in?”
“Nah, gonna head over to Jaimie’s, haven’t seen her since Monday. Wapi’s got the kids.”
Ouray grins. “Gettin’ serious then?” I don’t know how to answer that, so I shrug instead.
No denying, she’s taking up most of my thoughts, but I find it a bit unsettling. Or maybe unfamiliar is a better description. I’m a guy who lives in the moment. I’m not used to making plans or thinking ahead too far, but I do now. In fact, it’s all I do and almost everything revolves around Jaimie. I barely recognize myself.
“Word of advice? Don’t think too hard.” He lightly punches a fist in his stomach. “Go with the gut.” With that he disappears inside, the door slamming shut behind him.
_______________
Well, my gut takes me all the way to Jaimie’s front step.
“Hey.”
Her warm smile is all the welcome I need. With a hand on her hip, I crowd her backward into the house. The blue of her eyes deepens when I bend down for a taste.
“Hi, Trunk.” Her mother’s voice holds me back from the hot kiss I was about to lay on her, limiting me to a barely-there brush of lips.
“Sandra,” I return, looking away from Jaimie’s deepening blush at her mother, who scrambles to her feet.
“River’s sleeping, so I was just about to head over to my place,” she shares with a little smile.
“Don’t leave on my account,” I lie boldfaced. She knows it too, the smile turning into a smirk.
“Oh, I’m not. I have a few phone calls to make before I turn in. Night, guys.”
“Night, Mom.”
“Sandra.”
When the door closes behind her, I turn back to Jaimie who is biting her bottom lip, instantly ramping up the fire in my blood.
“Have you eaten?” Suddenly self-conscious, she pulls away and walks toward the kitchen. I follow behind, keeping the distance she’s trying to gain to a minimum.
“Yup.”
“Wanna beer?”
She’s already got her head in the fridge, and instead of answering; I grab her hips and press my hard cock against her ass. Her head snaps around.
“Not thirsty, James.”
Fire flashes in her eyes as she suddenly straightens up, twisting from my hold. “That’s too bad,” she bites off. “Food and a beer, it’s all that’s up for offer tonight. Sorry if you were looking for something else.” She shoves the cold beer she grabbed in my hands and stalks to the living room, plopping down on the couch.
EDGE OF REASON Page 12