by C L Green
It really is that bad.
It’s a true biker badass face and one that’s meant to stop unwanted conversations. I briefly consider keeping my mouth shut. A far safer plan of action would be to let the boxes conversation go. Stupidly, I don’t.
“I hoped - and I’ve already made tentative plans… to go shopping for shelving for the shop front tomorrow. Shelves would lift the boxes off the floor and make walking space for customers. They would also… um… tidy the place up a bit.” The last part of my sentence comes out as a tiny squeak as I realize I’ve touched on two of his no go zones.
It doesn’t take long for me to realise that this conversation is not going to end well. I confirm this when his eyes narrow yet again. The only difference this time is his pupils dilate at the same time.
Okay, so now I’ve pissed him off big time.
Shit, oh dear.
Am I fucking crazy?
Why do I keep pissing big biker hulk man off? It’s lunacy. I should know better. The last time I pissed Tony off big time, my day did not end well.
In a late effort to save myself, I snap my mouth shut and clasp my hands together on my lap. All I can do is wait for the impending badass biker meltdown and take what I’ve provoked.
A muscle twitches in his jaw and I startle. Why did it take me this long to remember alcohol dulls one’s sense of danger? I should have seen this coming and abandoned the conversation before I even started it.
The blood starts rushing in my head. A clear signal that my stress levels are peaked. How could I have been so stupid? Again. It’s time to stand down and get the hell out of Dodge.
“Um. Okay, no shelves. Got you. I’ll just go give Luke a quick call to tell him our shopping trip is off,” I mumble as I roll over to my escape from the bed.
In an instant, Jake’s hand snakes out to grab me by the wrist. “No,” he growls. “Its… okay.” He sighs and his face softens again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. Shelves are fine. They’re a good idea. Give me a chance to move a few unnecessary boxes out of the shopfront before you go displaying stock, yeah? I’ll leave all the boxes suitable for unpacking in the shopfront. They will be open. After I’ve moved the ones I need to move, if you find any unopened boxes, they are still off-limits. You hearing me?”
“Loud and clear,” I agree instantly frozen in mid roll aware of Jake’s hand clamped firmly around my wrist. I start to have a mini freak out. The last time I was grabbed by the wrists…
Jake quickly lets go as he senses my change in mood. Still not happy to let me go, he slides his hand over to apply pressure to the small of my back and pulls me gently towards him. It is as my front presses against his that I hear him take a sharp breath.
“Shit. Your back.”
“It’s fine,” I mumble as I tilt my head back to see his face. “The skin is healed. Apart from being ugly and tight, there’s no real pain anymore.”
“I made you fuckin’ panic again,” he says softly tilting his head to see my eyes. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s not your fault…” I start as he cuts me short.
“I know it’s not my fucking fault, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t tread lightly. I need to try harder not to scare the shit out of you.”
“You don’t need to tread lightly Jake, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. If you were fine you wouldn’t have been trying to jump out of bed with me. I’m more used to chicks trying to jump in bed with me.” He’s smirking again and the sparkle has returned to his eyes. He cocks his eyebrow and I watch his eyebrow piercing lift.
In response to his smirk, I relax. My body softens and my awareness of our proximity spikes. I can smell the mint of his toothpaste as he breathes slowly against my forehead.
“You growled at me,” I murmur. “I don’t like it when you growl at me.”
“Don’t give me reason to then. Simple.”
“You growled about boxes. You make it sound like you’ve got dead bodies stored in the shopfront.”
Jake tenses suddenly. His body becomes rock hard.
Huh?
What the hell?
In a barely audible whisper I ask, “You don’t have any dead bodies in boxes in the shop front do you?”
Jake remains stiff and unmoving. He’s not even breathing. I start to wonder if his heart has stopped.
“Jake?”
No response.
Jesus Christ.
He’s got dead bodies in boxes? Emma told me I needed to prepare for the hard truths about our biker boys but I had not seen this coming. I imagined they were stealing motorbikes and selling the parts. This was not on my radar. Not dead bodies. I wonder who they are? Do I really care?
They were probably badass, badasses who did horrible deeds that led to them ending up dead in boxes. They were probably like Tony, low scum who deserved to die. Surely?
“Um… Jake?” I clear my throat slightly so my voice is more than just a squeak. “I don’t mind if you have dead bodies in boxes... in your shopfront. Just saying. Especially if they were scum who earned their spots in your boxes. I’d find it a bit unsanitary though. Surely you have better places to store dead bodies? I’ve seen Breaking Bad. Perhaps I could suggest you melt them down in a barrel? With my Google skills I’m sure we can come up with a list of the chemicals needed. We live in the country, plastic barrels and caustic substances are easy to come by yeah? Farming supplies are readily accessible at agriculture stores. As long as there are no women and definitely no children in those boxes, I can deal.”
I pause briefly to suck in another breath before continuing. “That said, if you need to tell me about women or children in your boxes, I might need to make the hard call and move to another place. I promise to keep mum. I really do. I just want you to understand that dead women and children in boxes is a small boundary I cannot stretch while adapting to my new lifestyle. This could be one small waiver to the promise I’ve made to Emma that I will expand my lines of morality. Dead scumbags, like Tony for example? All good. Dead women and children, not good…”
I am cut off mid ramble by the sudden and alarming movement of Jake. One minute he is tense and stiff next to me, the next he is on top of me and I’m on my back pinned to the bed. Both his hands are either side of my head and he is staring at me. An almost confused look on his face.
I try to work out what his face is telling me. It’s sharp and alert, but both sad and confused at the same time.
“Stop Arianna,” he says slowly as he draws his brows together, jams his eyes shut and sighs.
“You’re about to tell me about dead bodies in boxes aren’t you?” I murmur, my heart thumping hard against my ribcage.
Fucking hell.
“No… yes. Maybe,” he says hesitantly as his eyes snap open again to stare at me.
This is getting creepy.
“Tell me about your expansion of morality,” he says, his hot breath whispering across my face.
“Um…”
“Talk woman,” he grunts impatiently.
“I’m not sure now is a good time to discuss my thoughts on morality. Not with you on top of me and me pinned. I would prefer to have this conversation sitting upright. Perhaps at a table, with you on one side and me on the other. And perhaps I could have my new Dogue de Bordeaux with me. My all grown up Dogue de Bordeaux would be good. Although growing him will take time - a luxury we don’t have. Especially because I get the distinct feeling that our views on morality may differ and we need to discuss them sooner rather than later. I’m also now worried that our differing views are going to mean more bad days for me.”
“Fuck,” Jake growls. “Stop talking woman.”
I stop talking.
“What the fuck are you rabbiting on about?” He asks looking even more confused.
“Um…?”
“You don’t even know do you?” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here and you are banging
on about a dog again. What’s with the fuckin’ dog? You really want one? I’ll get you one. I assumed you were talking shit last time you mentioned the fuckin’ dog. Jesus.”
“You’re going to get me a dog?”
Huh?
If he’s still talking about me getting a dog then he’s not expecting me to leave. This has to be good. Perhaps this means no women and children in boxes?
“Yes I’m going to get you a fucking dog,” he growls again looking pissed. “But first, I want to learn more about your expansion of morality. Without the ramble and I want to understand your boundaries. I need to understand them.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” He grunts looking confused again.
“For getting me a dog. I’ve wanted one for as long as I can remember…”
“For fuck sake. Quit with the fuckin’ rambling woman and talk to me.”
His eyes have hardened and he looks pissed again.
Woops.
Time to talk.
“Well it’s simple. I don’t have them anymore. With my small exception of dead woman and children. Oh and perhaps terrorism. Terrorism is bad. What’s stupid about my old boundaries is that if shitwad Tony had have been honest with me about the business I was unknowingly supporting, I would have dealt. Even bad businesses can be run well. I like businesses to run well. It’s a quirk of mine…”
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” Jake cuts me short again as he rolls his head back to stare at the ceiling. “And to think I picked you up off the side of the road. Your telling me you’re okay with mob business as long as it is run well? What the fuck.” He mutters as he shakes his head and rolls off me to lay on his back staring at the ceiling. The ceiling that no longer has a nasty poster of a naked woman on it. I had Zane take that down for me a week ago.
“Um… Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to tell me about the dead bodies in your boxes?”
“No I’m not.”
“Oh…”
So he’s changed his mind about telling me. Which leaves me wondering whether they are women and children again.
Fuck.
I hear him sigh before he says, “There aren’t any dead bodies in boxes.”
Phew.
“Well that’s excellent news,” I announce turning my head to see his profile. He is still staring at the ceiling.
“You could say that,” he chuckles. “You might not say that when I tell you what is in them.”
“Oh,” I shape the word out of my mouth slowly and start to chew my lip. “Perhaps I don’t want to find out what is in the boxes?”
In another sudden movement, Jake lifts to a sitting position, twists, grabs me off the bed and drags me to sit in his lap facing him. I blink as I register the speed with which he moved both himself and me. He has the speed of a ninja which seems impossible considering his sheer bulk of size. “You want me to be open and honest?” He asks as I sit blinking at him.
“Well… yes…” I stammer slightly.
Holy shit he’s gunna tell me what’s in his boxes.
In a slow and calculated move, he lifts his hands and places them on my hips. A small jolt of electricity spirals down my spine as his hands settle. I like his hands on my hips. I relax slightly and slump to allow my hands to settle on his chest again. I spend a brief moment registering the tactile connection as I gently rub my fingertips against his chest hair.
Jake sighs and with slow, heavy words he says, “Tony is dead.”
“Yeah, old news,” I mumble as I continue to rub my fingers softly against his chest. Then with a jolt it hits me, how does he know? I snap myself stiffly upright and rip my hands away from his chest. Before I can manage to push myself off his lap, Jake’s hands clamp down on my hips and he stiffens too.
Nice move big guy, you weren’t just being nice holding my hips, you were getting ready to stop me leaving weren’t you?
“Old news?” He asks looking confused and cautious.
“Don’t fucking old news me. How do you know already? You’ve been in bed all day and the news of his death only hit the television this afternoon.”
Relaxing slightly, his fingers soften against my hips. “You found the television.”
“Yes I found the fucking television. Don’t change the subject. How the fuck do you already know that Tony Giotti is dead?”
“I know,” he says warily, “because I was the man who shot two bullets into his forehead.”
Fuck!
Jake shot Tony. It wasn’t a mob hit. It was Jake.
“Ohmigod,” I breathe out the word as all oxygen exits my lungs.
“Is that honest enough for you?” He asks as he starts chewing at his bottom lip thoughtfully.
Nodding, I find my tongue has tied into a knot and I have no idea what to say. “He deserved it,” he continues.
I nod again. I agree. He deserved it.
“He hurt you,” he adds.
I nod again as my mind wraps its fingers around this newest piece of information. Poking and prodding at it, trying to make sense of it. I am trying to find a suitable emotion to mirror my thoughts.
Jake is staring at me intently. Patiently awaiting my response. So I give it to him.
I lean forward again to gently place my hands back on his chest. Then I take a deep breath before continuing the final part of my journey as I continue to lean forward and press my lips to his. “Thank you,” I whisper softly before slipping my tongue out gently to swipe his top lip. His breath catches and his hands clench briefly against my hips before suddenly relaxing.
That shocked you didn’t it buddy?
I swipe my tongue across his lip again before realizing he’s not responding. He’s not kissing me back.
Uh oh.
A brief idea to pull away crosses my mind before I am overtaken by the urge to lick his bottom lip as well. So I do. That seems to do the trick. His lips part and his tongues glide out to touch mine softly. He tastes good. A mixture of mint and something else. The something else you crave and will go to desperate measures to find. Like when you lick salt looking just for the saltiness.
I pull my tongue back and nip his bottom lip gently. His lip is soft and plump. He hisses and one of his hands slides up my back to settle on the back of my neck. He applies a slight pressure to my neck before his tongue plunges back into my mouth. I let go of his lip as the flavor of Jake invades my senses and the air whooshes from my body. I suck gently on his tongue, trapping it during its wild journey through my mouth and suck the saliva from his tongue.
He responds with a soft groan that sends tremors straight down my spine, finishing with a tingle between my legs. I find myself clenching my legs either side of him as I press my crutch hard against his.
Slowly drawing his tongue out of my mouth, he licks across my top lip before he puckers and pecks me lightly on the lips. I sigh as he murmurs, “That response was a fuck load different from what I was expecting. A fuck of a lot better too. You’re welcome baby.”
My earlier conversation with Towball flashes through my mind. “I owe you, big,” I murmur softly staring longingly at his lips. I want them back on me. Soon.
“You don’t owe me anything baby. He deserved it. Conversation done.”
Another realization flashes into my mind. With a jolt I sit back upright again.
“Ohmigod. What if they catch you? You’ll go to jail,” I screech. The concept of Jake going to jail and leaving me here on my own horrifies me.
God no.
“I won’t get caught,” he replies quietly, but confidently. “I have no links to the scumbag. He doesn’t know me. He was also on radar to be hit by the mob for fucking up their prostitution and gun deals. He was already a marked man. The police will search closer to home for someone to blame. Stay cool baby, as long as you stay hidden and they don’t link me to you, this will blow over.”
I physically slump against him, my head hitting his shoulder. “Jesus Jake. You’ve alrea
dy done enough for me, but this… this…”
“Conversation over,” he growls. “No word of this to anyone yeah? Not even Emma. I understand that you can trust her but telling her just makes her an accessory. This is between me, you and Zane.”
I jolt back upright again. “Zane?”
“Zane had my back. He didn’t pull the trigger but he was involved.”
“Jesus,” I murmur softly. “He didn’t need to do that.”
“He wanted to. And I’m glad it was him. I suspect it could have been any of the boys if I had have asked though. They like you.”
I smirk at him and roll my eyes.
He grins.
“One of a kind. Straight from the side of the road. Un fucking believable.”
He pushes me sideways then rolls our bodies so he is on top again. I stare up at his gorgeous face mesmerized. His eyes darken and start to smolder as they drift down my face to settle on my lips.
I lift my hand to scratch across the rough stubble on his face. It feels nice. I then push his hair away from where it hangs near his eyes to hook it behind his ear. “That’s one hell of thing you did for me,” I say softly as my eyes drift to his lips as well.
He doesn’t respond verbally. He responds physically by leaning in and blistering me with what can only be described as a panty flooding kiss. “Wow,” I hum against his lips before he starts to draw away.
“Wow,” he agrees with a grin as he pushes his arms down firmly either side of me and lifts from the bed. Without another word he grabs for his jeans and starts to slide them up his legs.
“Where are you going?” I ask breathlessly. A sense of loss swirling through me as I register that he is leaving.
“Babe, haven’t showered for a couple of days. I need a rinse. You’re waiting here. When I get back, we’re gunna fuck.”
“Okay,” I agree with a grin. “Sounds good.”
With a twist, he leans back to peck me on the lips, he smirks before pushing off the bed. With a brief stop for fresh clothes at the tallboy, he walks to the door and is gone.
It is not until after he has left the room that I remember the boxes. I still didn’t find out what was in the fucking boxes.