Kings of Asphalt

by Alexx Andria

  “But you want more?” Delainey supplied in an unsure voice.

  “I don’t know what I want,” Zoe admitted. “Hence, it’s complicated.”

  Delainey nodded in commiseration, adding, “Well, at least if it’s just going to be about sex, the sex sounds pretty amazing.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a minute before muttering, “I’d love to have some dirty, awesome sex at least once in my life.”

  “Every girl should,” Zoe agreed. “Before Jax and Hunter I thought I had to settle. Now, I say, forget about settling, go for the hot guy and see what happens.”

  Delainey grinned in somewhat awe. “Wow. Those guys really did a number on you. You’re so full of confidence and bravado. I like this new Zoe.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah. She gives me hope that there’s someone out there for me, too. Someone who wants me — all of me.” Delainey pushed her salad away with a grimace. “Someone who won’t insist that I eat a salad for every meal.”

  Sudden moisture stung Zoe’s eyes for Delainey’s comment. How many times had she thought that very same thing? The fact that Jax and Hunter seemed to celebrate her curves, to enjoy every hill and valley, from the bounty of her breasts to the rounded curve of her stomach, made her feel beautiful and sexy — two traits she’d never imagined someone might attribute to her. But amidst all that feel-good empowerment that’d come with the phenomenal sex was the buzzkill of reality — Jax and Hunter were active criminals. That shipment they were so intent on protecting probably wasn’t filled with children’s toys for an orphanage. Drugs and guns were the staple income for most street gangs, motorcycle gangs included. Hell, Paula had pretty much told her that The Kings sold drugs same as The Dogs. And when she envisioned her life, she hadn’t factored in two hunky, drug-dealing thugs as life partners. Returning to Delainey, she squeezed her hand and smiled. “There’s a guy out there for you, I promise. Just don’t settle for a Teddy, okay? There’s so much better out there.”

  Delainey nodded, soaking up the good advice. “You’re like my new hero. A rock star. When do you see them again?”

  Good question. She didn’t know. The last time felt final. Hunter hadn’t even said goodbye. Jax had been sweet and tender but Hunter? No, he’d walked out as if he didn’t want to give her another thought. She winced as the memory returned with the pain of his cold departure, particularly after he’d given her so much pleasure and pain. “Do you think it’s possible to sustain a polyamorous relationship?”

  “I have no idea,” Delainey answered with complete honesty. “This isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse, you know? But I would imagine that anything is possible if you work at it. Are you saying you want to have a relationship with them both?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t know how it would work. There are more than the living arrangements to consider. I don’t think their vocation, if you can call it that, is exactly legal and I have no interest in going to jail as an accessory.”

  “Right,” Delainey agreed with a shudder at the idea of prison. “Orange may be the new black but it would do absolutely nothing for your complexion.”

  Zoe smiled at that, wishing for the easy button. “I don’t know what to do. Should I forget about them and move on? Or should I try to see if there’s something there?”

  “Well, do you want there to be something there?”

  “I don’t know. I never imagined I’d be in this kind of situation.”

  “Yeah, poor you.”

  Delainey’s derisive quip made Zoe giggle. “Yeah, sounds rough, huh?”

  “Cry me a river. I can’t get one guy lusting after me, much less two.”

  Zoe remembered those days — because it was less than a week ago. She’d cringed when she’d listed curvy as her body type on her online dating profile because she always felt judged by doing so. Maybe this was just her battered self-esteem but somehow she’d always pictured potential suitors clicking past her once they saw she had a little extra padding. She shook herself off that thought train to focus on the now. “There’s more going on,” she told Delainey. “There’s a story I really want to write but Jax and Hunter have warned me off of it because they feel putting the information out there will put my life in danger.”

  “Holy shit, really?” Delainey breathed in a shocked gasp. “What kind of story?”

  “Do you remember that guy who was killed execution style on the west side of the city? It was a small blurb in the paper…anyway, I think his murder is tied to another murder that happened a few weeks prior and both murders are indicative of a street war over turf between The Dogs and The Kings.”

  Delainey whistled, intrigued. “That’s a big story. Why are you writing it, though? Did you get moved to the city beat?”

  “No.” Zoe grimaced. “I was doing it on my own. I wanted to prove to McMurphy that I could handle the big stories. I was going undercover when I met Jax and Hunter.”

  “Damn. That’s some serious stuff.” Delainey paused a beat before saying with uncertainty, “But it does sound really dangerous. No story is worth prison time or getting killed. Please tell me you’re going to let it go.”

  Zoe didn’t answer right away. After Jax and Hunter had left and she’d taken a long, hot shower, she’d been pretty sure she wasn’t going to chase the story any longer but then her thoughts had started spinning again and she’d found herself itching to jump back into the research. In her defense, it was really hard to walk away from the promise of legitimacy and it was even harder to explain her reasoning to someone who couldn’t possibly understand that need.

  “Zoe,” Delainey said, drawing out her name like her mother used to when she was in trouble. “Please tell me you’re not going to keep chasing this story. I can’t lose my best friend in the whole world, okay? There will be other stories, I’m sure of it. And honestly, what’s so bad about the stories you write now? I loved your last one, How To Cheat On Your Diet And Still Lose Pounds, it really works!”

  Zoe grimaced, then groaned. “That’s just it, Delainey. I don’t want to write that stuff anymore. Stories like that aren’t changing lives.”

  Delainey shrugged, then said in a small voice, “Well, I like those kinds of stories. And it made a difference in my life. I lost five pounds with your advice.”

  Realizing she’d marginalized Delainey, Zoe crumpled in on herself with shame. “I’m sorry. I know you like those stories. And you’re right…maybe I do a bit of good out there but I want more. Is that so bad?”

  “No,” Delainey answered with a sweet smile as she grasped Zoe’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s what I love most about you — you’re fearless. Even before you became this new and improved Zoe, there was always something about you that was unstoppable. If you feel you have to do this story…then go for it. I’ll pray for your guardian angel to be on his or her toes though, because I was serious about not being able to lose you. You’re my bestest friend and I can’t lose you.”

  Tears sprung to Zoe’s eyes and she jumped up from her chair to wrap Delainey in her arms for a good, bone-crushing hug. Delainey, as soft as she was sweet, hugged her back and Zoe hoped someone realized what a gem Delainey was and scooped her up before too long. Delainey deserved to know how it felt to be worshipped sexually, to lose herself in carnal wonder, and quite possibly how it felt to have two men so mindlessly in lust for her body that they couldn’t keep their hands off her. Zoe pulled away and they both wiped away tears. Then without missing a beat, Delainey asked, “So…how do I go

  about finding me a dirty, sexy biker who has a thing for curvy women?”

  Each time Jax laid eyes on Bronx Harris, leader of The Dogs motorcycle club, he suffered the urge to bury his fist in his pretty boy face. So, setting up a meet-and-greet to shoot the shit wasn’t high on his list of desirables but there was no denying that something didn’t feel right and the only way to discern if Bronx was behind all this shit, was to go straight to the source.

  The thing was, Bronx, for all hi
s good-looks, was a vicious fucker like the rest of them and wouldn’t hesitate to throw his own mama under the wheels of a bus if she got in his way. And he didn’t like Jax or Hunter anymore than they liked him. So yeah, the feeling of general animosity was pretty fucking mutual.

  They walked into the bare warehouse, their booted heels echoing in the gloom, dust motes spiraling like drunken fairies, and Bronx stood with his entourage, guns drawn and expressions hard. “Helluva welcome wagon you got,” Jax drawled, raising his hands to show he’d come unarmed (or relatively unarmed because he never went anywhere without the knife strapped to his calf) and Hunter did the same. “We came under the white flag, man. Don’t tell me you’re going to go back on your word that this would be civilized.”

  “I never said anything about being civilized,” Bronx retorted with a cold smirk. “It’s not my fault you’re as dumb as you look.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t trust your lying ass further than I could throw you,” Jax returned with an equally cold smile. “Right now, my guys are standing outside your window with your woman in their gun sight. Anything happens to me or my brother and your girl goes lights out. You feelin’ me?”

  Bronx held Jax’s stare in a mutual stand-off until Bronx, realizing Jax wasn’t fucking around, gave his boys the signal to stand down. He shrugged, saying, “Can’t waste a golden opportunity to remove the biggest pain in my ass since junior high, right?”

  Jax’s cold smile didn’t falter but he was tensed and ready to move at the slightest indication that Bronx was going to try and put a bullet in his head, no matter the consequence to his woman. Yeah, Bronx was that cruel. “So are we going to quit measuring each other’s dicks and get down to business or what?”

  Bronx warily motioned for them to come closer. When they were close enough, he said, “So what’s this about?” he asked.

  “I’m going to ask you something point blank and if you lie to me, I’ll find out eventually and when I do, I’ll cut your lying tongue from your mouth, got it?” Jax said.

  “Talk dirty to me some more, Jax,” Bronx said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I like it rough.”

  Hunter, irritated with their exchange, cut in, saying, “Here’s the deal…did you have anything to do with the hit on William Simms?”

  “Who the fuck is William Simms?” Bronx asked, equally irritated.

  “He was a King. Now he’s dead. Bullet in the head, execution-style. Like someone was sending a message.”

  “Wasn’t my message,” Bronx said. “I can’t say that I know everything my guys do but when it comes to spilling blood, I always know the score.”

  “Rumor has it that Simms was shacking up with Juanita Sanchez…that a name you recognize?” Hunter asked.

  Bronx’s gaze hardened. “Now, that’s a name I know. What the hell are you talking about? Juanita wasn’t shacking up with no filthy, bitch-ass King.”

  “Watch your mouth or this conversation will stop being civilized,” Jax warned.

  “And if it were true, would that be enough to put a hit out on Simms?” Hunter pressed. Bronx’s stony expression didn’t change but he bit out a terse, “No” and Jax knew he was telling the truth, which was a shame because he’d really been looking forward to busting those pearly whites out of Bronx’s mouth. He and Hunter exchanged looks, confirming what they feared the most — someone was playing them and it wasn’t Bronx.

  “What makes you think Juanita was seeing your boy?” Bronx asked.

  “It’s a rumor from a reliable source,” Jax answered with a shrug. “What makes you think she wasn’t?”

  “Juanita was loyal.”

  “Yeah, well, sounds like her pussy was equal opportunity,” Jax quipped and Bronx’s face flushed.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and wipe you off this planet,” Bronx snarled.

  Hunter tugged at Jax’s arm and they walked backward away from Bronx and his posse until they were far enough away to risk turning their back on the sneaky bastards.

  They each mounted their Harleys and roared away from the warehouse but Jax’s mind wasn’t focused on the ride. What the hell was going on? The life they lived wasn’t easy or soft but he’d always understood the rules of the street. Now, it seemed everything was out of whack, twisted-up and turned on its head because he couldn’t make sense of the current events. Zoe jumped to mind and something warm and gooey spread across his heart. He was mid-smile and risking bugs in his teeth when he realized what he was doing. What the fuck? No attachments — that was the golden rule that kept them on top. No distractions. Pussy was a dime a dozen. On any given night he and Hunter could have any number of hot, saucy bitches performing all manner of raunchy and debauched acts on them so why did one curvy, sassy-as-hell, gonna-get-herself-killed woman stick in his mind? There was something about her that tugged at him in a way he’d forgotten how to feel — and that was bad. Why she’d have to walk into their lives? One thing was for certain…he was going to go against his better judgment and see her again.

  And if his tightening groin were any indication, sooner rather than later.

  #

  Following the meet-up with Bronx, Hunter remained in a funk that he couldn’t shake. He growled and snapped at everyone in his vicinity until everyone pretty much started avoiding him. Dimas, ever the smart-ass, was the one person who wouldn’t take the hint.

  “You on your period?” he quipped, lighting his cigarette with a shit-eating grin. “Because you’re pretty bitchy tonight.”

  “Fuck off,” he growled, leaning back in his chair as tossed back a whiskey. The bar was hopping tonight, filled with Kings in good standing. Laughter mixed with the raucous music as everyone got their drank on. By the end of the night, the till would be full and wicks would be dipped. It should’ve been a good night but it wasn’t. Jax was gone for the night — he didn’t say where he was going, but Hunter had a good idea, and maybe that was the reason he was out of sorts — but suffice to say, he wasn’t good company. The knowledge that someone within their own club was pulling tricks on the side didn’t sit well with him at all. The fact that they didn’t have a clue, felt worse. He looked to Dimas. “We got problems,” he said finally and Dimas lost his grin.

  “Yeah? What kind of problems?”

  Hunter paused, then said, “We have a rat.”

  “How so?”

  Instead of divulging details Hunter said, “I want you to circulate your best girl out there. See if she can get some useful pillow talk out of someone.”

  “I can’t set my girl on a mission without some detail of what I’m looking for,” Dimas returned, snagging the whiskey bottle. “Just give me a clue as to what I’m trying to find out for you.” When Hunter just regarded him with a narrowed stare, he chuckled. “Must be pretty bad if you’re looking at me like I’m a suspect, bud. We’ve been through too much for you to question me now. If anyone’s got your back in this place, it’s me and you know it.”

  “Do I?” Hunter asked quietly, leaning forward to pin Dimas with a hard stare. “Do I really?”

  “Calm the fuck down, cowboy. I’m gonna pretend that I didn’t hear that fucking insult you just threw my way and we’re gonna keep drinking like the buddies we are.” To prove his point, he poured himself and Hunter another shot and downed his quickly. “Listen, I don’t know what’s got you so hot and bothered but it’s bad fucking timing, you know? It took a long-ass time to get Ebony to trust us with a shipment of this size and I ain’t about to let your paranoia screw us all. Whatever the fuck is eating your shorts, stow it, cuz this shit’s about to get real and I ain’t gonna eat a bullet because Ebony caught wind of your whining about rats and shit. Got it? And before you get all twisted up in a knot, you know I’m just saying this to save your ass so shut the fuck up and listen for once, you stubborn ass.”

  Hunter pulled the whiskey shot toward him with a deliberate motion, regarding the amber liquid and wondering if Dimas was right. Maybe all this cons
piracy theory shit was messing with his head when he should be concentrating on the details of the shipment coming in two days. He and Dimas went way back and Dimas was right, he needed to focus on what’s important. Whoever whacked Simms could wait. “Shit man,” he said, downing the shot with a dark chuckle. “I need to get fucked up tonight. My head is all sorts of wrong these days.”

  Dimas brightened and reached over to clap Hunter on the back with a hearty guffaw. “Now that I can get behind!” He motioned to Rocket, the bartender. “Bring my man another bottle of Jameson, we’re gonna get loose tonight!” And then he leaned in to whisper in Hunter’s ear, saying, “Let me introduce you to the woman of your dreams. She’s my newest…I’d consider it an honor if you break her in first.”

  For some reason Zoe flashed in his mind and he hesitated but the fact that he hesitated at all filled him with disquiet. What the hell? Why was he thinking of Zoe when he should be salivating at the idea of fucking some fresh strange? New pussy was usually an instant aphrodisiac for him. He forced a smile. “Yeah? What’s she like?” he asked, stuffing any thought of Zoe far from his head. “Blond, brunette?”

  “A red-head, baby,” Dimas answered with a lecherous grin. “And she can suck the chrome from your wheel-well, I can promise you that.”

  “You always promise that,” Hunter said, laughing. “Where’d you find her?”

  “You don’t care about those fucking details,” Dimas answered with a short smirk. “All you need to know is that her pussy is fresh, clean and ready for business.”

  New pussy with strawberry curls, damp and sweet. The very thought made him semi-hard. But lately, dark curls covering a soft mound were what haunted his dreams. Damn it, Zoe. And those curves! His hands itched with the need to grip those hips and drive into that willing, wet heat. Lose the Zoe obsession, he told himself. She wasn’t part of his future and never would be. Maybe if he got drunk enough he’d cease to care what pussy he was driving into — and a redhead would do as well as any other. “Sure,” he agreed with a shrug. “Have her drop by. I’ll take a look.”