Krishna was nice, down to earth, and nothing like the typical women hanging around the club. And interestingly enough, that was her appeal. And worse, Alex found her to be beautiful in a completely unique and exotic way. Everything about her was completely natural from her supple breasts and tight ass that was framed perfectly in her jeans to her dark eyes and jet black hair. Her body was curvy in all the right places, and those she seemed so young, it was mature. Those eyes were whirlpools that drew him in with the swirl and threatened to suck him into a black hole if he tried to look into their depths and see her soul.
Women had never been a stumbling block for him, never made him nervous or self-conscious. He didn’t question himself in any dealings he had with women. But Krishna was literally driving him insane.
In fact, he’d been so nervous about his work that he’d honestly asked for her opinion. After years of experience. He was always thorough and passionate, and that wasn’t just in the chair. He had coaxed countless women into his bed with little effort, especially those who liked hanging around the clubhouse. Most of the women weren’t members but more like groupies, and every one of them sang his praises.
But he’d actually been concerned that Krishna wouldn’t be pleased with his work tonight. She was a completely different sort of woman. She knew as much as or more than any guy in the club about motorcycles, including Alex, and when it came to flirting and seduction, she saw right through him. How did she do that?
“Dammit!” Alex screamed in frustration as he yanked back the shower curtain and stepped out. The fact that he even cared a lick about Krishna and all the how’s and why’s that went with her pissed him off. He was quiet, tough, and took pleasure in women’s bodies, not their minds or personalities. Those things led to commitment, and he wasn’t one to get hung up on that sort of thing. Relationships were toxic, and yet, here he was, still thinking about some woman – one who had turned him down and called him out on his shit. It was fucking pathetic.
He told himself it was just an obsession, the same one that got into his blood when he wanted to conquer a difficult seduction. All he wanted was to hold power over Krishna because she was obviously going to be the type of challenge he rarely found. And she was different, exotic, which drove him even harder for a new experience. He was incapable of anything more than that, wasn’t he?
The hot water left his skin red. He’d stayed in the shower too long. But a good, hot shower could be as satisfying as an orgasm, and with images of Krishna in his mind, he’d lathered himself in layers of soap and now smells clean and fresh rather than like a dirty hog covered in mold.
And a female mechanic that was an intoxicating blend of flowers, spice, and motor oil.
Gritting his teeth, he splashed cold water on his face and watched the water swirl down the drain, and his pride and strength were about to head in the same direction. He needed to get it together, fast.
But as he dried off, Alex found himself imagining her next to him, helping with the task. Her hands all over him, stroking down his body and teasing him a she worked. He pictured her standing before him, her dark, creamy skin bared for his admiration. It wasn’t like he’d seen more than a sneak peek of her, but he could picture the body of an ancient goddess, and he grew hard at just the image.
Alex opened his eyes and smashed his hand against the wall, nearly busting through it even with a flat hand. He had to stop thinking about her. A woman like Krishna definitely wouldn’t settle for a one night stand, and he had the gut wrenching fear he’d be hooked the moment she shared his bed anyway. Attachments didn’t suit him, and since she was a member of the club, it certainly wouldn’t be good for business. He had to let it go. He told himself it was a passing fantasy he could ignore, and he just needed a good lay to get him past it.
CHAPTER SIX
Alex gazed up at the building where he’d spent over a year serving a sentence he honestly deserved and wondered how many others inside had been dealt a similarly rotten hand versus how many were truly bad seeds. When he was in, he’d seen all types – weak, aggressive, sadistic, shady. But it was rare to find a man who didn’t have a tragic occurrence a the heart of his story, and that usually led right down the path to a sentence behind bars.
Circumstances that drove men to the lowest of lows caused more crime than anyone wanted to admit, and as long as the world closed their ears, eyes and mind to that, more and more people were going to get lost in this system.
Alex had come to bail out a potential recruit. The Ashes liked finding people who needed a fresh start in jail. They could offer a new life, for which the new member would be grateful. They’d be more willing to do whatever it took to keep the family they’d gained. And because they’d already been convicted of a crime, they were less likely to scoff at the idea of working with the Ashes. Or rather, for them.
He’d read the profile of the guy he’d come to get. He was 24, and his girlfriend insisted he’d abused her physically and sexually. The system would hang him out to dry for the rape charge alone, always willing to believe a woman who could produce tears. But a lot of the details didn’t add up, and Pops trusted the man’s word. He could be really beneficial to the club, too, having been part of a motorcycle club in Houston before and insisting he had connections that could get good Mexican peyote for them, for cheap. That was the kicker that made Pops pony up the dough for his bail. The question was, did a potentially innocent man really have the potential and talent he claimed?
Alex pulled out a cigarette and leaned against his bike while he waited. Being here, even outside, already had his nerves on edge, so this guy – Calvin – would have to come out to him once the paperwork was processed. And the minute he walked out, Alex was going to take him to the clubhouse, where he could prepare for the ride of his life.
New members had a price to pay, earning their slot in the club as well as paying back the bail money. Calvin would start with a trip over the border to pat his buddies on the back and bring some buttons back across the border. There were customers waiting for deliveries, too, and those missions got doled out accordingly. But first, the newbies had to bring the shit in.
Alex straightened as a man fitting Calvin’s description skipped down the stairs. He was thin, almost emaciated, with a long, scrawny neck and limbs. He had dark hair buzzed almost completely off and a goatee. It was easy to make some snap judgments – white supremacist maybe, still using even inside probably, possibly mean tempered – but Alex had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Pops was the boss, and when he recruited someone, no one questioned it.
Alex waved casually, calling him over. He had a creepy, toothy grin that belonged to a serial killer or at least a predator of some kind, and his eyes were sunken with dark circles, a sure sign of lots of uppers and little sleep. Only time would tell if he could handle this new job. Tossing his smoke down, Alex held out a hand to shake. “Calvin, right? I’m Alex.”
The kid eyed the butt on the ground, and Alex ground it out with the heel of his boot. It made Calvin eye him nervously. “You’re my charge till you know what to do,” Alex said simply. Calvin nodded, and Alex said, “Here’s the short version. The Ashes bailed you out. Now, you pay us back. To be a member – and not a target – you do what you’re told. Right now, that’s get with your connections and bring us the goods.”
“Sure,” he answered, his voice oily and tone snakelike.
“You run, we’ll find you. Take it seriously.” Alex’s instincts were rarely wrong, and he figured this guy for a flop. It made him change his mind about taking him to the clubhouse. “Here’s a bus pass. Get home. Get clean, get your bike, and bring the shit back in a week. No more.”
Calvin nodded and took the bus pass. Alex watched him walk toward the bus stop as he climbed back on his bike. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was the last time anyone saw the kid. First, Pops hires a woman mechanic and then hires a skeletal shell of a man who didn’t seem to have anything human left inside. He was either losing his tou
ch or testing Alex’s limits. Neither was a good sign.
Speeding out of town, Alex hit the highway at eighty and pushed harder from there, until he reached the bottleneck of the smaller towns where traffic was slower. He’d blown off the steam and now cruised so he could enjoy the wind in his blond hair without ducking low. He’d been making this delivery run regularly for a couple of years, and it was probably his favorite job. It got him out of the stuffy confines of the city onto open road, giving him a sense of freedom. He figured a lot of city dwellers forgot there was a whole other way of life, slower and less hectic, with nature still prevailing.
The closer to the Colorado border he got, the better the view, and the air smelled fresher, cleaner, like being next to a cold spring of melting snow in the mountains. When he got this far out, he considered just continuing on, like he always did. He wondered what else he would find out there, and he loved the idea of driving until the tank ran dry, pulling over, and doing it again.
But that wasn’t a possibility. The delivery was time sensitive, and he was a prisoner of his own design. So, he rode into Durango three and a half hours after he’d left and pulled up to a dilapidated house that looked like it had been transported straight from old Mexico.
The bike’s engine rumbled loud enough to draw the owner out, wearing his usual polyester cream colored suit, with a cane in one hand and a cigar in the other. “Alex! You always like to make an entrance, don’t you?” He chuckled as he approached the bike. Alex put down the kickstand and swung off the machine.
He held out a hand to shake. “Mr. Rodriguez, always a pleasure. How’s life treating you?” This man was probably the only person who could draw Alex into a real conversation. He knew the answer to his question, but he always greeted the man this way.
“Well, we’ve almost run dry, Alex, but you’re here now, so things are looking up, yes? Come in, have something to drink. We’re in the middle of some high stakes poker, and my friend just brought back some very expensive and smooth tequila from Tepache, just south of Moctezuma.” Rodriguez had offered for years, but Alex always said no. They’d lost three members to his card games in the past, and Alex refused to be the fourth.
“You know I’d love to, but duty calls. You know how busy things get, especially when it’s been a while since we had good stock. Unfortunately, I have other customers to tend, but one of these days, I’m going to come in and whip everyone’s asses.” He smiled, always genuinely apologetic because he really would like to go in with guns blazing and take out the entire table of men.
And per the routine, Rodriguez shrugged and shook his head in disappointment but played the good sport. “It hurts me, Alex, but I understand. Here is payment in full.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick envelope of cash. Alex took it, passing a paper wrapped package of buttons over at the same time. He tucked the cash into his own pocket, knowing better than to offend his customer by counting it in front of him. “Gracias, Alex,” Rodriguez said with genuine appreciation. “I’ll be seeing you next time, I hope.” He was already on his way back inside, chewing on his cigar and leaning on his cane.
Alex jumped on the bike and hightailed it out of there. Rodriguez was a cheat with a bad temper, who could turn on you at any moment, and it was stupid to linger. Alex was the only one still willing to make the delivery. Now, he headed back to the highway, hesitating when he stopped for gas. He wanted more than ever to follow his instinct to just travel randomly, off the grid. The pull had grown stronger as he’d gotten older, as if he was turning wild. But he had responsibilities to his family, who trusted him to return and do his duties.
So, he took the on ramp and promised himself that, one day, he would convince the Ashes to let him go on sabbatical, so he could explore. Maybe he could even start a new branch somewhere. All he needed was the nod from Pops, which meant convincing the boss he was capable. That couldn’t be so hard.
***
Alex lit a cigarette, waiting as patiently as possible for Rusty, who some of the Ashes called ‘The Wrecker’. He had an enormous F-350 that could tow 1-ton pickups or fit three large bikes in. Right now, he only had to load up one – Alex’s.
He’d crossed back into New Mexico, made it as far as some open road just past Chama, and then his bike started acting strange. It wasn’t getting power, though he still had half a tank of gas. He’d pulled over to take a look and seen nothing wrong, but he couldn’t get it to start again. It pissed him off – he hadn’t had a problem with the damn thing since he got it three years ago. No major repairs, only regular maintenance. He hadn’t expected to have such good luck forever, but this was not the time for this crap.
He tossed away his butt and lit another cigarette. His nerves had him chain smoking, and he scowled, realizing he’d just finished off the pack. He smoked quickly and went in to the cashier to buy a new pack. As he pulled out the cash, he heard the unmistakable diesel engine of Rusty’s truck pulling in and felt a sense of relief.
He rushed out to meet Rusty and help him load up the bike. “Hey, bud,” Rusty said in his deep southern drawl. “Looks like your bike blew out, huh?” They hoisted the machine together, up to the tailgate and into the bed of the truck, which was some semblance of white under all the dirt. Rusty had a penchant for offroading from time to time.
“I don’t know. Just stopped.” Alex scratched his head, staring at the bike before climbing into the passenger seat of the truck – it was on a 12-inch lift with 40-inch beastly tires, so he literally had to climb.
Rusty shrugged. “It’s probably just overdue for some big repair. “Have you let Pop know yet?” He glanced sideways at Alex, who shook his head. “He’ll need to get that new mechanic of his over to the clubhouse to work on it. We can’t have you out of commission long.” Rusty’s smile showed the gold caps Alex suddenly had a desire to punch right out of his mouth.
Rusty was just the messenger, but that didn’t matter. Alex loathed the idea of calling Krishna. He’d managed to pack away his fantasies last night, but then he’d dwelt on the humiliation of her subtle rejection, as well as her ability to call him on his shit. But Rusty was right. He had no other choice in the matter. A shop would charge a fortune, take forever, and still do a lousy job.
With a sigh, Alex jerked his phone from his pocket, looking out the back window to check that his motorcycle was tied down suitably as they entered the freeway. He dialed Pops, who luckily answered right away. “Hey, Alex. Are the errands done?” he asked, as if he expected to hear otherwise.
“Yeah, Calvin’s supposed to be on his way by now, but I don’t know what you were thinking. I’m not sure we’ll see him again. He might get buried six feet under Mexican soil or overdose before he can make the trip. He waited for Pops to rage at him for his questions, but it didn’t happen.
“Have faith, Alex. He may look like shit, but I’m willing to bet he’s worth more than what he appears to be. So, is that why you called me in the middle of the night?” Pops old lady wasn’t part of the club, so weeknights he spent at home, with her. She probably wondered what in the hell someone wanted at one in the morning.
“Sorry, Pops, but my bike broke down, and Rusty’s hauling it back to the clubhouse. It needs work, and I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” Alex dreaded the response he knew was coming and hoped Pops decided to have him wait or maybe take it to a shop in the morning.
He should have known better. “Oh. I see. Well, I guess I hired a new mechanic just in time. I’ll text you her number. You’ll have to call her and get her to the clubhouse. You’ve got more deliveries tomorrow, so you need her out there to fix it tonight.”
Before Alex could argue about jerking her out of bed, Pops hung up. Seconds later, the phone vibrated with the text, and Alex stared at the number like it was a flesh eating virus. He had Krishna’s number now, but it was just for business purposes. Nothing more.
“So, what does the boss have to say?” Rusty asked as they reached the outskirts of town. They�
�d be at the clubhouse in ten or fifteen minutes.
Alex needed to call now, if he was going to call at all. He tried to think of another solution, but none came. “He gave me Krishna’s number, said to get it fixed tonight.” Reluctantly, he dialed.
“Who’s Krishna?” Rusty asked, confusion on his face.
Alex rolled his eyes. He was terrible with names, but for some reason, he was annoyed that Rusty didn’t know Krishna’s. Maybe it was because he actually did remember it.
“Hello?” asked a tired voice. On a yawn filled with annoyance, she asked, “Who’s calling at this ungodly hour?”
“It’s Alex,” he said gruffly.
“Who?” Then there was a pause. “Oh.” Another pause. In a less than pleasant voice she asked, “Why are you calling?”
Getting straight to the point, he said, “My bike broke down. Pops wants it fixed tonight, said to call you and get you to the clubhouse.” He gazed out the window and squeezed his eyes shut. Now that he’d heard her voice, he hoped she could come out. His heart and body rebelled against his common sense, and he was more eager to see her than he liked.
This Savage Love: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set Page 78