by Kiki Leach
Mia took another sip of her cognac and sat back in her chair as it burned sliding down the back of her throat. "Did you find out anything about Ricky while you were in Tampa?" she asked him.
"Nobody was willin' to talk even as we damn near shot 'em up with bullets with every gun we brought. Motherfucker's got that entire goddamn city runnin' scared as shit. Your parent's are good though," he replied. "We checked on my boys' who're still watchin' out for 'em before we headed back out to the prison."
"Did they see you?"
"Fuck no, doll. I ain't never been good in dealin' with nobody's parents, not even my fuckin' own."
She chuckled. "Thanks," she muttered. She circled her finger around the rim of the mug and stared up at him. "I saw Ricky's face when Eightball came at me the way that he did; same gestures, same eyes, same reactions. It reminded me so much of that night he dumped me outside of your club. Just the look of pure evil, almost as if he was soaked in it. When it came to son of a bitch, after I learned all about who he was and everything he was ever capable of, it was like I had been staring into the face of the devil himself the entire damn time. Eightball was almost like a descendant of that evil."
"You ain't gotta worry about him anymore, doll."
"I know," she told him. "But... but, you do."
River dropped his arms to his sides and moved closer to her, but stopped when Blue peeked his head around the corner. "Tank said if we get this motherfucker out there before midnight," he told him, "he'll take care of it tonight, no questions asked."
"Alright." He stared down at Mia, who couldn't seem to take her eyes off of any part of him. "You good?" he asked her.
She shook her head and tried to smile. "No. But a few more glasses of this and I just might be, soon enough."
He placed the bottle in front of her on the table, then followed Blue back into the bedroom and closed the door.
Blue stomped back over to Eightball and nudged his foot into the side of his head. More blood oozed out onto the carpet. "This shit's gonna be a bitch to get outta your goddamn rug, VP."
"I'd rather have this motherfucker's blood stainin' it than Mia's."
Blue nodded. "So how the fuck do we get this asshole outta here?"
"Wrap him up in some tarp I've got down in the basement and toss him in the back of my truck. I'll call up Snake or Shiver and see if they can hightail it the fuck over here before the night's over and look after Mia."
"Yeah, Riv..." He dropped his hands around his waist and shook his head. "Yeah, I don't think that's such a good idea to call those assholes up and over here."
"I'm sure as fuck not callin' up another one of those goddamn, inept prospects."
"No, I mean..." He sighed. "Your bitch is fuckin' traumatized and the last goddamn thing she is gonna need or want is somebody other than you holdin' onto her goddamn hand, or any other fuckin' part of her, and tellin' her that shit's gonna be fine when we all fuckin' know that it won't. And you just said on the way back here that you didn't want anybody else knowin' about this shit and what happened here tonight, and you were right. I'm includin' the other brothers in this. The less people who know this asshole's been capped, and by who, the fuckin' better. Look, after we get him wrapped up, I'll take him out to Tank's place and watch him burn. Shit might even get my cock hard, which'll be good if I can ever get around to lettin' that bitch around the corner wrap her lips around it. I'll call and let you know what the fuck's up after it's done, alright?"
River took a deep breath in and let it out as slowly as he could. He knew that he needed to be with Mia; hell, the motherfucker didn't want to be anyplace else.
"Alright," he said, refusing to put up a fight of any kind. "Let's just get this motherfucker wrapped the fuck up and outta here ASAfuckin'P."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After helping Blue stuff Eightball's wrapped body into the bed of the truck and waving him off, River headed back inside the house and found that Mia had moved from the kitchen to the couch. She had pulled her feet up on the leather and was staring off into the distance with the glass of cognac in her hand, never realizing he was even back inside the house until he closed the door.
She turned to look up at him and attempted a smile.
He pointed. "That shit helpin' any?"
She shrugged. "Not as much as a lobotomy might."
River snickered while moving around to the other side of the couch, and dropped down. He lay his head back against it, closed his eyes and massaged his temples with the tips of her fingers. The night was starting to wear on him in a way that it hadn't since he first joined the club.
Mia sat up and bent forward. "You actually look like you could use some of this just as much as me. Maybe even a little bit more?" She lifted her glass and outstretched her arm.
River stared down at her hand, then back up into her eyes and lifted his brows in question. "What the fuck number are you on now, doll?"
"Three." She rolled her eyes up and leaned her head. "Maybe four... and a half. Here," she said. "No matter how many of these I've had tonight, it's still no fun drinking alone. Especially after..." She stopped and swallowed hard. "Dealing with something like that."
"Yeah." Hesitantly, he took the glass from her and took a long, slow sip. He fell back against the couch again and swallowed, keeping his eyes straight ahead as Mia combed her fingers through her hair and kept her eyes directly on him.
"This may or may not actually come as some kind of shock to you," she said, "but I've never killed anybody before. I've never even held an actual gun in my hand until tonight."
"Most people haven't, babe, and they never will." He took another sip of the cognac before handing it back over to her. "Closest some folks'll ever come to dealin' with the shit we had here tonight is on T.V."
"If only that were true," she muttered. She wrapped her fingers around the glass and sat back. Then she took another sip and pulled back to exhale. "Have you ever killed anyone before, River?" she asked. His eyes went wide for a split second as what she said soaked into his brain. She took note of his expression and shook her head. "Sorry, that was probably a stupid question."
"What's that shit people say about there bein' no stupid questions but only dumbass answers or some shit like that?"
She laughed. "I don't think that's how the saying goes." He grinned and bobbed his head. Silence floated between them until she started up again. "So, have you?"
He looked over at her again and glowered. "Yeah... yeah, I've killed motherfuckers before, babe."
"How many?"
"None I'm willin' to sit here and count for you tonight, or any other goddamn night from here on out for that matter," he told her. "Just know that some of 'em, I wasn't too proud of havin' to get rid of. But others... Shit, others I'd be one lyin', full of shit motherfucker if I said I was even sorry for permanently pluggin' 'em up."
"Would Eightball be in the 'not so sorry' category had you gotten to him before me?"
"Like I told you before, I wanted that motherfucker gone from the minute he walked in wearin' a goddamn cut with 'Prospect' sewn above that right pocket. Didn't matter to me how he went out or who took him there, 'cause the crazy fuck never deserved to be here in the first goddamn place, let alone get patched in."
"What are you going to tell Tiny and the others about what happened to him?"
"Don't fuckin' know yet. Whatever the fuck I say, they're not gonna like. It's been hard as hell tryin' to get any willin' prospects to stick around longer than a few fuckin' months at a time over the last few years as it is; even shit fuckers like him."
"And all because of Ricky," she mumbled. "But if nothing else, you'll still have people like Trucker and Styx hoping to claim a place beside you, right?"
"Styx just might be the only motherfucker who's left once all this shit is said and done."
"At least you know he's loyal to you and the club."
River slowly nodded his head and peered. "Yeah..." He cleared his throat. "So you two frie
nds or some shit now?"
She slightly lifted her shoulders and averted her eyes. "I don't know. He's been nice to talk to sometimes, I guess."
He nodded again. "You know he's got a bitch out in Montana?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm sorry?"
"He's got a bitch out in Montana that he goes to see every now and then."
"You mean like a dog or an actual person?" she asked. He made a face. "I'm only asking because I'm honestly not all that sure. I mean you use the word so casually in every sentence like it just comes so naturally to you."
"Maybe it does--"
"Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe the fact that it doesn't come so naturally for him is why he has someone that he goes to see up in Montana on a regular basis. Maybe you could have that too if you didn't."
"Who says I'm even lookin' to have that kinda shit, doll?"
A wide and genuine smile crossed her face as she tilted her head and stared right into his eyes. She rolled her tongue across her lips and sank her teeth into each one. "Come on, River. Everybody's looking to have that 'kinda shit', and you're lying to yourself when you say that you don't."
"Uh--"
She put up her hand to stop him. "No matter how often you try and sit down and deny and pretend otherwise, you want it just as badly as anybody else."
"Maybe not as badly as you seem to," he said.
"No..." She fell quiet. "Maybe you're right, maybe I want it just a little bit more."
He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and while tapping his fingers against the arm of the couch, nervously asked her, "Any particular motherfucker you've got in mind as far as who you're wantin' it from?"
"Been wanting it from," she emphasized as her breathing increased. Shit. "And I think he's staring right at me. I think he's been staring right at me for a long, long time now."
Jesus.
Her skin grew hot the longer she stared at him, then her eyes went soft as the blood rushed her cheeks, and she sat up straight which brought his focus down to those full, perfectly shaped round tits and hard as fuck nipples that brushed against the soft fabric of her robe, and shit, that was it. Those words were exactly what this motherfucker needed to hear, that look in her eyes was exactly what he needed to fucking see – that goddamn body of hers was exactly what he needed to feel beneath his own. And not just for the sake of his now rock solid cock or his natural male ego, but to help loosen the grip of that goddamn cage tightening around his once slow beating heart; a rhythm his body no longer knew the second she walked back into his life wearing that perfect as hell smile.
Once she realized what she had said, Mia waved a hand across her chest and leaned forward. "I'm sorry." She placed the glass down on the coffee table and arched her brows. "I'm sorry, that's probably some of the booze talking."
"Don't we often tell the truth about shit when we've got no other goddamn thing to lose?"
She produced a lazy smile and sank her teeth into her bottom lip, and gently suckled it. Shit was like a soft, warm hand squeezing around the head of his cock, and goddamn, was he fucked.
"You're trying to be a philosopher now?"
"No, darlin'," he replied, his eyes moving between her face, her breasts, her cunt, which had just barely become exposed. "I'm just a goddamn, motherfuckin' truth teller."
"Okay... Okay, then since you've had your fill of booze now too, why don't you tell me this; what did you think about me when you first saw me show up to the garage, asking for your help."
"In that tight tank and short as fuck skirt?"
She nodded. "Yes."
He waited a moment and drew his finger back and forth across his lip, and without even thinking of what the hell to say next, he blurted out the first few words about her that came into his goddamn head. "I thought you were beautiful, doll. Fuckin'... Most beautiful goddamn woman I'd ever seen in my entire fuckin', piece of shit life. The kinda beautiful that if anybody ever asked me just how fuckin’ much I thought you were, no words I could use to describe it would be accurate enough to explain the way you need to hear it, or the way you need to know exactly what I thought and how I felt when I first saw you again." He sat back. “Ain't a single goddamn word I could say to you that'd be good enough for it.”
Mia took in every goddamn word, every syllable, every letter, along with the rough and rugged sound of his voice, and lowered her eyes while smiling in relief at finally hearing the truth for herself. "And what did you think of me after I asked for your help?"
"I thought you were crazy as fuck," he said.
She tilted her head back and laughed, and goddamnit, all he wanted to do in that moment was climb right between her thighs and cover her neck with his mouth and soft, soft strokes of his tongue.
"Tell me why you agreed to help me," she said. "Why you wanted me to move in here with you. Outside of what happened with Tiny, was it solely for Ricky or for another reason entirely?"
"Truth?" he asked her.
Her stomach dropped and she gulped, fearful but prepared to hear it. "Truth."
He sat back and exhaled. "For the sake of my club, and the shit you promised I'd get out of it if I did," he answered. "And 'cause I just wanted to keep you around me for as long as I fuckin’ could.”
“Really?” she asked. He nodded. "Why?" Her reply was quicker this time; more anxious, almost too anxious for an answer that he wasn't sure how the fuck to give her one, or if he even wanted to anymore.
River turned from her. "We shouldn't even be talkin' about this shit with you bein' lit up like this again. And after what the fuck just happened--"
"It's all the more reason to discuss it," she said. "And I'm not 'lit up' like anything again. Despite some of the booze maybe talking for me, I'm still of relatively sound mind." She bent forward and placed a hand on his knee, and his entire goddamn body went soft at her touch. She saw the fire blazing in his eyes the longer she kept her hand there, felt his skin grow warm beneath the fabric and against her fingers, and though it fully aroused her, she pulled back, knowing exactly what was liable to happen between them if she didn't. "Why did you want me to stay?" she asked, her voice weakening at the thought of his answer. "Why did you want to keep me around? I mean, I think I know why, but I just want to hear the words from you. I just want to hear you say it."
"You wanna hear me say that I wanna slide my hand right up and in between those fuckin’ thighs, babe?” he said. “That you not havin' panties on right now would give me the perfect fuckin' opportunity to stroke that fuckin’ clit with the tips of my goddamn fingers, and fuckin’ taste you? You wanna hear me say that I wanna know what kinda faces you make when you taste yourself on ‘em for the first goddamn time, the kinda faces you make when you finally taste me?”
Stunned, she slid her tongue across her lip and gulped. “I--”
“You wanna hear that I've been thinkin' of plantin' myself right between those goddamn thighs, wrappin' those long ass legs around my fuckin' waist and slidin' my cock so deep the fuck inside you since the minute you stepped outta that goddamn car? That every fuckin’ time I look at you, it’s all I fuckin’ want for myself? All I think I might ever need in my entire goddamn life?”
She wanted to faint; she almost did. "Yes," she whispered.
"Jesus, baby. You’re a fuckin’ rainstorm and I’m goddamn lightnin’ ready to strike at what you’ve got at any fuckin’ second." His eyes fell to her legs and he watched with a stiff cock as she rubbed them back and forth against each other and rocked the lower half of her body against the couch. "If I told you to get on my goddamn cock," he told her, "said I wanted to fuck you ‘til the goddamn sun came up and fuckin’ rock on me like you’re doin’ right the fuck now against that goddamn leather…" She continued rocking and pinched her lips to the corner of her mouth in an attempt to hide a smirk. "You're not like any other bitch I've ever known, darlin'. And I've known a lot of ‘em.”
"I could imagine," she replied. "But me being different from them should be a good thing for
you."
"Should be, babe. Really fuckin’ should be, but it's not."
"And why is that?" she asked. “After everything that you’ve said--”
"'Cause truth be told, darlin', you're just not my type of woman. Every goddamn thing I want from you is somethin' I know I shouldn't have."
"Maybe that's your problem." She rolled her eyes up and scrunched her nose. "Your other problem."
"What's the first one?"
"Admitting that you want it in the first place. Or maybe that's the actual solution to it." She turned her entire body toward him and placed her hands in her lap. "If I kissed you right now, what would you say to me, or do?"
"A better question should be where the fuck would I put my hands on you if you did? Put ‘em where the fuck I want, or wherever the fuck you ask me to?"
“Wherever the fuck I ask you to.” She grinned. "What would you do?" she asked again.
He took a moment and swallowed hard while keeping his eyes directly on hers. This son of a bitch was hungry as fuck, and he’d been looking for a bite for too goddamn motherfucking long now when it came to this bitch. He was ready to sink his teeth in deep and not give up until she fucking screamed no other name but his own. "If you tried to kiss me right now, babe, stick that sweet fuckin’ tongue inside my goddamn mouth and let me suck on it a little bit, just a little fuckin’ bit ‘til I felt you come… I'd just sit back and let that shit happen."
"Really?" she asked, all while attempting to catch her breath. "Even with me not being exactly your type?"
"My heart may say one thing about you, babe, but my cock has been sayin' somethin' entirely fuckin' different for a long, motherfuckin' time now."
"Hm." She readjusted herself on the couch; the height of arousal between them had damn near reached a boiling point. "Well maybe I'll give you that."
"Maybe?"
"Yeah, maybe." She leaned her head and smiled. "When you finally allow your heart to feel the same damn thing for me, or even more than that beautiful, giant pink cock of yours most certainly does, and maybe even always will."