by Susan Stoker
Cruz thought Mickie was adorable. He leaned farther on his arms and toward her a bit more. “Their loss is my gain.”
Mickie shook her head in exasperation at Cruz. Trying to change the subject, she asked, “So, what do you do?”
Cruz’s stomach dropped, but he didn’t show any outward emotion at her words. He’d hoped to distract Mickie enough that she’d forget to ask. Still, he’d learned over the years that keeping his answer truthful but vague was always the way to go. “I’m in security.”
There was silence between them for a moment, then Mickie asked, “Security, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Hummm. I guess I can see it. You’re in shape, unlike a lot of security guards I’ve seen, so you get points for that.”
Cruz swallowed back a laugh. “I’m not sure that’s saying much, but I’ll take it. Besides, it pays the bills,” he intentionally repeated her words, happy when she smiled at him.
Deciding that the best way to make sure Mickie was safe was to stick to her like glue, at least when he wasn’t at the club, he blurted, “I like you. Will you let me take you out sometime? Maybe for dinner?”
“Uh…I don’t know.”
Cruz knew he wasn’t being very smooth, so tried to back off a bit. “I know, too soon, right? Okay, at least let me give you my number. You can text me or something. Maybe we can accidently meet for lunch again sometime?”
Mickie laughed. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when it’s something I want.”
She paused for a beat, scrutinizing him. Finally she said. “Okay, give me your number. I’ll have to think about it.”
Cruz gave her the number to the phone he was using as Smoke. He couldn’t keep her safe if she needed him by giving her his personal number, since he never carried that phone with him when he was at the club. When she contacted him, and hopefully she would, he’d add her to his contacts under a fake name so if the phone was compromised by one of the members at the club, she wouldn’t be.
He looked Mickie in the eye. “I hope you use it. I really do want to get to know you.” Cruz stood up reluctantly, knowing it was time to go if he didn’t want to freak her out. “It was nice meeting you. I hope your sister comes to see what a treasure she has in you.”
Mickie cursed the blush she knew was blooming on her cheeks…again. “It was nice to meet you too, Cruz.”
“Bye, Mickie.”
“Bye.”
Cruz left the restaurant and Mickie noticed that his back view was just as nice as the front. She hadn’t ever understood the phrase “you could bounce a quarter on that ass” until now.
She sighed. What the hell was she thinking? She looked down at the number she’d programmed into her phone. She really should just delete it. There was no way a man like Cruz would honestly be interested in her, but damn it felt good.
She clicked the button to turn the screen to her phone off and gathered up her stuff. Fuck it. Why wouldn’t he be interested in her? Mickie knew she’d been taking Angel’s words to heart more than she should.
She had a job, she was a good person, she might not be a size two, but it wasn’t as if she was grotesque either, size twelve was more normal in today’s day and age than a size two. So what if she had some fourteens in her closet too? Most women’s weights went up and down…and besides, not every store had the same size chart. Whatever.
Mickie made up her mind. She’d text Cruz, see if he was serious. If he was, she’d go for it. She deserved it. Not only that, she wanted it.
The day seemed brighter as Mickie left, even though Angel and the damn MC were still on her mind. She had to do something, but she didn’t know what. She’d have to wait and hope like hell Angel would come to her senses after the damn “party” tonight. Hopefully it would be out of control and would scare Angel shitless…and away from the club altogether.
Chapter Three
Cruz looked around the clubhouse in barely concealed disgust. The men had been on their best behavior from the moment he’d arrived with Angel. The music was loud, the booze was flowing freely, but it was extremely tame compared to some of the parties Cruz had been to in the last month.
After leaving the restaurant, Cruz had pulled over and donned his biker clothes, essentially putting back on his new identity, one he was beginning to hate. He continued to Angel’s apartment and gathered her. He’d tried to be a dick to her as much as he could, while not risking Ransom’s ire if she tattled about his actions to the president. Cruz wanted to show Angel that the bikers weren’t nice guys. He didn’t think his tactic worked, because the rest of the guys at the club were going out of their way to be solicitous and pleasant, at least for them.
Even the few old ladies who were there were taking Angel under their wings. They’d taken her to a back room when she’d arrived, and an hour later when they’d come out, they’d all been acting as if they were best friends.
Cruz learned from Knife and Donkey, two of the more hard-core men in the gang, that the women were slowly going to bring Angel into the fold that night, including getting her high. It was all a part of their plan. They’d supply her with all the weed she wanted, and then eventually Ransom would pressure her into trying the harder stuff.
They were giggling and chummy when they came out of the backroom. The old ladies went to their men and Cruz watched as Angel weaved her way across the room to Ransom. When she got to him, he hauled her against his side with an arm around her neck. He didn’t acknowledge her in any way, but merely kept on talking with Kitty and Tick.
Finally after a few minutes went by, Ransom looked down at Angel and asked, “Have fun tonight?”
“Oh yeah, everyone was so nice!”
“It’s time to go.”
“But, Ransom, I just got here,” she whined.
“I said it’s time to fucking go. Get your shit and I’ll take you home.”
“Okay.”
Angel teetered her way back across the clubhouse floor on her four-inch heels, not knowing or probably not caring that all eyes were on her ass as she went. When she was out of hearing, Camel, a prospect who’d been voted into the club recently, said, “I gotta tap me some of that.”
Cruz half expected Ransom to lose his shit, but it was more verification that the man didn’t give a fuck about Angel when he merely laughed and said, “You’ll have your chance. Patience, man. Everyone will get their shot at her when I’m done and when we’re rolling in the dough her friends give us. I don’t give a shit if you all pass her around…after I’m done with her and the club gets what it needs.”
Everyone laughed and high-fived. Cruz joined in, sick to his stomach thinking about what Ransom had in store for Mickie’s sister.
“Hurry up and get back, Pres. Bambi’s coming over with a few of her friends after you leave. You know she likes it up the ass,” Dirt informed his president with a smirk.
“Oh, hell yeah. I’ll get Angel home, fuck her, and get back here. Half an hour, tops.”
“You gonna let her orgasm tonight?” Tick asked. They all knew how Ransom used orgasms as a method of control.
“Fuck no. I don’t have time for that shit and I don’t give a fuck if she gets off or not as long as I do. I’ll tell her she didn’t pay enough attention to me tonight or some bullshit…how I like it when my woman does her drugs in front of me. She’ll be begging for something to smoke the next time I see her.”
Once again, everyone around them laughed crudely. “Well, hurry the fuck up. We need you to get the party started,” Camel complained, knowing Ransom had one rule when it came to the club whores. He was the first to fuck each night. Once he’d had his fill of who he wanted, they were fair game for anyone and everyone else. No one was allowed to get any pussy until he decided he was done and permitted the other men to have their fun.
“Shut the fuck up, Camel. I’ll get back when I get back. Don’t piss me off.”
“No disrespect intended, Pres.”
They watched
As the other men catcalled, he lifted his lips off of Angel’s. She had a dreamy look on her face. “Come on, let’s go. I need inside that hot cunt.”
Ransom led Angel out of the room with his hand at the back of her neck. It could’ve been a loving gesture; Cruz had seen his friend Dax put his hand on the back of his girlfriend Mackenzie’s neck as they walked together sometimes, but he knew Ransom used it more as a controlling action than an affectionate gesture.
“Get on it, assholes. Get Bambi’s ass over here. Ransom is gonna be ready to fuck when he gets back. Let’s not disappoint him,” Bubba ordered. The vice president’s words were muted and harsh. He lifted his chin at Cruz. “Smoke, you’re on lookout tonight. Make sure the pigs don’t crash the party. The Snakes are bringing a shipment tonight. Don’t fuck it up.”
Cruz gave a short nod to the other man in response. Bubba was a large man—not muscular, but overweight. He looked like a heart attack waiting to happen, but Cruz had seen him take down one of the younger prospects the other day with absolutely no effort. He was big and mean, and took no shit from anyone in the club. He might be the VP, but he was also one of the best enforcers as well.
“No problem, Bubba. Are we expecting trouble?” Cruz wanted to know what he might be up against.
“We always expect problems, Prospect. That’s why you’re on fucking duty.”
Cruz nodded in response instead of taking the other man to the ground for his asshole-ish tone and turned to head outside the big warehouse. It was located in the industrial part of San Antonio. All around them were other warehouses that held everything from vehicles to boxes and crates of merchandise. Inventory that was stored until it was either picked up and driven to the coast and put into shipping containers to be sent overseas, or trucked throughout the States. Eighteen-wheelers were entering and exiting the big complex day and night. It was actually a perfect hideout for the gang and their illegal activities. Of course, motorcycles didn’t quite blend in, but it seemed the MC had done their work well, and everyone was either too scared to say anything, or they’d been bought off.
Thankful he didn’t have to watch the orgy that was sure to go down that night, Cruz crossed his arms and leaned against the corner of a nearby warehouse. He knew there were other prospects standing around at other key points around the building as well. It wasn’t likely anyone would just randomly show up, but it was another bullshit job the president got off on having the prospects do.
Cruz thought about the investigation; it was getting murkier and murkier every day. How the hell he was going to get Angel out of the shitstorm she’d found herself in, keep Mickie safe from Ransom’s wrath, and find out who the mysterious new big dealer the club had somehow managed to procure, was all running through his brain.
On top of that, Cruz found his thoughts turning to Mickie. She hadn’t been what he’d expected at all. She was spunky…and cute. She was a bit eclectic and obviously wasn’t afraid to say what she felt.
On the other hand, Cruz couldn’t remember the last time a woman had blushed so much. Every time he’d flustered her, she’d turned a light shade of pink. It was adorable and he was way too jaded for her, but that wasn’t going to stop him from sticking close.
Feeling his phone vibrate, Cruz pulled it out, thinking it was one of the other prospects fucking with him. He was surprised to see a message from Mickie, figuring she’d make him wait longer before getting in touch with him.
Hey. Just wanted to say hi. It was nice meeting you today.
The text was short and to the point…a feeler of sorts. There was no commitment to it, so if he didn’t answer, she wouldn’t be embarrassed. But it also told Cruz a lot. She’d reached out in the hopes he’d answer. He immediately texted her back.
Hi. You too. I’m glad you got in touch. You want to accidently be at the same place at the same time tomorrow to feed ourselves?
Lol. Ok. Where?
Cruz smiled. God. He loved that Mickie didn’t play hard to get.
Wherever you want.
The sub shop on Crystal Hill and Wurzbach Rd?
Cruz knew which one she was talking about. It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to be seen in his “normal” clothes that close to the Red Brothers’ hangout.
Actually, I was thinking Iron Cactus down on the River Walk.
Cruz sweated the ten minutes it took Mickie to respond.
I didn’t peg you as a River Walk kind of guy.
Mickie was exactly right. Normally Cruz wouldn’t be caught dead at the overpriced tourist trap that was the collection of shops downtown by the river. But he also figured none of the Red Brothers would be there either.
Figured for our first date, I’d treat you right.
A girl can’t argue with that. See you there at one-ish?
Yes. Be safe until then.
Cruz stared at the words he’d typed on the screen. He’d told Sophie “be safe” every time they’d parted. Toward the end of their marriage, she’d merely rolled her eyes at him. Cruz didn’t know why he’d said the words to Mickie, but there they were, in black and white. Be safe.
Thank you. I will. You too. Later.
Later.
Cruz tucked his phone back into his pocket and couldn’t hold back the smile that crept across his face.
A bike pulling into the area brought him out of his musings of Mickie with a jolt. Cruz observed Ransom returning after having dropped Angel off, well within his thirty-minute estimate. Shortly thereafter, a car pulled up and three whores Cruz recognized stumbled out of the vehicle, obviously already stoned. The churning in Cruz’s stomach wouldn’t stop. Even though he wasn’t inside, he could well imagine what was going to happen.
The prostitutes had Cruz thinking about his ex and finding her in their bedroom with three men.
The last time Cruz saw Sophie was when the SAPD had arrested her for prostitution and drugs. After their divorce, she hadn’t stopped her illegal activities. He’d begged her to get help, but she’d refused, calling him a “fuddy-duddy,” claiming she’d been using drugs for their entire marriage and that she’d never been satisfied by him in bed.
Cruz had met Sophie when he’d first joined the FBI. She’d been a senior at Georgetown and they’d met while at a bar one night. He’d fallen in love almost immediately. Sophie was tall and slender and her long blonde hair had blown him away. She’d been funny and gregarious and had made him feel as if he was the most important person in her life.
The reality more than lived up to his imagination. Sophie had been a wildcat in bed and Cruz thought he was the luckiest guy in the world. Eventually they’d made their way to San Antonio, where Cruz was still posted. He’d hoped being in a new city would strengthen their relationship, but instead it seemed to only exacerbate the issues they’d been having.
Sophie was known as the life of the party. She had a friendly disposition and she easily made friends wherever they went. However, it wasn’t long before her party-girl attitude started to get old. At company get-togethers, she’d usually end up drinking too much and embarrassing the hell out of Cruz. Eventually it got to a point where he refused to bring her to any of the social functions he went to for work. He needed to maintain some sort of professional persona, and watching his wife flirt shamelessly and have to be carried home didn’t cut it.
Sophie didn’t seem to care. She’d simply shrugged and went out with her friends instead of accompanying Cruz to work events. By the time they’d moved to San Antonio, Cruz was tired of making excuses and he knew they weren’t working out as a couple.
His friends in the FBI were always complimenting him on how sexy his wife was and Cruz took their comments with a smile, but deep down, hindsight being twenty/twenty, he’d known he wanted more out of their relationship. He’d wanted a supportive partnership that was more than sex and parties.
The night Cruz found out about the real Sophie was one he knew he’d never forget as long as he lived. He’d gone to an annual charity event in San Antonio. He’d promised his friends he’d at least show up. He’d worked with various law enforcement offices throughout the city and had become close friends with five officers. They all joked that they were a living, breathing bar joke…a cop, Feeb, game warden, highway patrolman, doctor, and deputy walked into a bar…
But Cruz knew he’d never find closer friends than Dax, TJ, Quint, Calder, Hayden, and Conor. The other men, and woman, had all met during various cases they’d been on, and they’d bonded as a result.
Cruz had been at the charity event and felt like crap. He was coming down with the flu and had left early. He’d tried to text Sophie and let her know he was on his way home, but she hadn’t answered. He’d entered their small suburban house and knew immediately something was off. He’d pulled his sidearm out and cautiously searched the house.
When he’d found his wife, he stood in the bedroom doorway, aghast, not able to believe the scene before him. Sophie had been on her knees in the middle of three men, alternating sucking one man and jacking off the other two. She’d been switching between the men, seemingly enjoying what she was doing. Cruz remembered the scene as if it was yesterday…
“What the hell?” He barked the words into the otherwise quiet room.
Sophie took her lips off one man’s cock to peer around his leg, never stopping her hands from moving up and down the other two men’s dicks. “Hey, Cruzch, I didn’t eschpect you home scho early. Come join the fun.”
Cruz could only stare at his wife as she went back to what she’d been doing before he’d interrupted, not caring her husband had caught her in the act. He looked over to the table sitting next to their bed and saw three lines of white powder, along with a plastic frequent-shopper card from the local grocery store. There were three used condoms on the floor by the bed and the covers were mussed, as if the group had just moved their sexual orgy to the middle of the room.
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