Enforcer: (Boneyard Brotherhood MC Romance Book 2)

by Amber Burns

  “I got in contact with Suzy and Tony,” he said without a concern to me. “They’ve branched out to supplying others, understandably, but are willing to cut us in for the old percentage. Crops have been good this year, and Suzy tells me she’s perfected the art of making the oil. So, I say we give it another few weeks, and then we start rolling again.”

  “My contact at the station says we’re old news,” Tillman added. “With us looking just like a bunch of old fuckers and there no real trail that they stopped looking at us a long time ago. I don’t believe it too much, but,” he shrugged, eyeing me with a frown. “I think it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  Wilson grunted in agreement and as I gazed down at the table as a basket of wings was set in front of me. I looked up to see the lady that worked the kitchen raising an eyebrow at me.

  “I didn’t order anything.”

  “Doesn’t matter, shut up and eat it,” she put a hand on one of her round hips. “You want water to drink with it?” Confused, I could only shrug.

  “You look pale,” Tillman observed. “Probably a good idea to eat it. You think you’re badass? You don’t want to be on the wrong end of the knife with Cindy.”

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Wilson quipped in agreement.

  I bet he would know, too. From what I gathered there was something going on between him and the woman that worked the bar. Tillman grunted in agreement.

  A plastic cup filled with water was set down in front of me, “Why do you look like shit?”

  I met Cindy’s accusing look with a raised eyebrow, “Work got me stabbed.”

  “You get it taken care of?” Her brows were lowered down, and I frowned at her in response.

  “No, I’m going to sit here and bleed out.”

  “Sarcasm’ll get you hurt,” she snapped and walked away. “Sooner you realize that the better.”

  I snorted and looked down at the meal in front of me. I needed to eat. I knew doing it while I was still emotionally out of sorts was probably a bad idea.

  “When can I do something?”

  “When you’re healed up,” Tillman said without missing a beat. “We’ve not got anything for you to do right now. Unless you want to go work at the shop?”

  I snorted and looked to Wilson, “If you’re planning on starting runs again, let me clear the way.”

  “I intend to, just not right now.”

  I glowered, “Why not?”

  “I know you’re not going to appreciate this,” he cleared his throat. “You look like you were run over, you might not have the road rash from it, but you look like it. If I send you out on any run where there’s likely to be someone ready to jump you, what do you think is gonna happen?” I didn’t answer, just glared at him. While I hadn’t actually been run over, I felt like I had. “I can’t chance it and I won’t. I don’t need that shit on my conscience.”

  “You’re just okay with him smashing Jimmy’s face in?”

  “He had it coming,” Wilson shrugged wiping his hands on a napkin.

  “This fucker broke his nose,” Tillman growled. “I’ve been listening to Doris all day because Jimmy won’t press charges.”

  “If he did,” I picked up a wing and bit into it, my stomach had been rumbling I couldn’t ignore it anymore. “They would probably find a few guns on his property, which is something you’re not supposed to have while on parole. I can’t imagine he’s not got other shit either.”

  “He pulled a gun on you?” Wilson asked, his bushy brows falling over his eyes. He started to take on the bulldog look. “That fucker threatened you with a gun?”

  “He pulled it out,” I cleaned the meat off the bone because, despite the fact that I didn’t want to eat, this shit was good. “I doubt he would’ve fired it. It was shaking in his hand. If he managed to hit me, I doubt it would have been serious.”

  “Like how being stabbed wasn't serious?” Tillman snorted.

  “I ain't in the hospital,” I moved onto another wing.

  “I'll set up for you to do a run up through the route in a couple of days,” Wilson moved the subject along. “Van Cleave will go with you for back up,” he raised a hand when it I started to protest. “Just in case.”

  I rolled my eyes but decided he was probably right. If our route had been claimed, then it's likely a ride through would bring us trouble. I wanted trouble, but I needed to be stable if I were going to face it head on. Right now I was anything, but stable.

  9

  The guy Wilson had me running with, Van Cleave, was decent but intimidating in build like I was. He had a couple of inches on me and managed to give off a foreboding air with his dark ponytail, a trim goatee, and olive colored skin. But he wasn't the type of guy that projected his personality with his looks. He looked like a badass, but it was all looks. He was a joker and all grins, which was frustrating for me because it made it hard to dislike him.

  I had gone on runs with him before all the bullshit with Billings went down. If we ran into anyone, he was always quick to fuck them up and have my back when I needed someone to. But otherwise, he was full of wise-ass remarks. It was hard to not like him, and at some point, I just gave up; let the asshole grow on me.

  “Man,” he grinned at me when he found me out front. I had been considering going home, but he had found me before I went to cross the street to my truck. “Are you ready to shake the dust off?”

  “I make a point not to gather dust,” I eyed him.

  “Yea, I heard what you did with Jimmy,” he came to stand beside me, his big hands stuffed into his jeans. “The kid was alright, I guess, but not all there. I figured he got patched in as a favor for Ted,” he shrugged. “You can't bite the hands that feed you though.” He looked at me, he usually wore wrap around shades, so it was hard to see his eyes. It was part of his image, I was sure if he didn't have his glasses on you would be able to see the pushover he really was. “You look pale. You ain't sick, are you?”

  I shook my head, Dylan was still hanging out in there unwarranted. I couldn't seem to shake her.

  “I got scraped up pretty good while I was setting Billings straight. Still, trying to recoup.”

  “Yea sometimes it's hard to bounce back when you take a few good licks,” he grimaced. “The last time I had my ass handed to me I was down damn near a week. I think we're getting old, my friend.”

  “I'm not thirty-five yet,” I belted out my complaint.

  “Thirty is just the first hurdle,” he cackled, sounding like a hyena. “Thirty-five is the next, and from what I hear it's down hill after forty.” He still seemed amused by the prospect of us getting old, “I got you by a couple of years. I'll let you know how shitty forty is when I get there.”

  I snorted and looked away, I hadn't considered my age in a while. But, looking at it now I realized that I had no idea how old Dylan was. I didn't know her last name, either.

  “Fuck,” I cursed without mind to Van Cleave.

  “You alright?” I looked to see a cigarette hanging from his lip.

  He was as close to a friend as I had, aside from Wilson.

  “You ever have a bitch get stuck in your head?” I asked.

  He tugged his glasses down to look at me, I could see the surprise in them. “You serious?”

  “Do I joke with you?”

  “Damn,” he drug out the word. “I had a few girls stick around longer than I wanted like I'd give them a ride and want ‘em again. But usually, after the third or fourth time, I'd be good and on my way.” He gave me a grin then, “Did you tap that ass already?” I looked away from him and nodded, not comfortable with being laid open in front of someone. “And she's still in your head?” I nodded again. “Maybe you just need to hit it again. Damn, dude. I never see you with women, I thought you were a monk or some shit.”

  “Maybe I like women that don’t hang out at seedy joints like this,” I didn't like what he was insinuating.

  He chuckled. “If that's the case maybe you shouldn't c
all her a bitch. She hears you say shit like that and she'll leave you hanging. Then, you'll never get her out of your head, and you'll be left wondering what might have been.” He put a hand to his heart and whistled a mournful tune.

  I grunted then grimaced. He had a point, I didn't know how much longer I could last with this girl sitting in the back of my thoughts.

  “Thanks,” I grumbled.

  He gave me a solid slap to the back, “If you took a hard couple of licks it might've got you off balance. Maybe that's why a girl has you all hard up. Good luck with that, buddy. I hope you set it straight before we do the ride through to Suzy’s and Tony’s. You're supposed to be the serious one here.” I snorted because he had his moments, “There's a group that I hear has moved in on our route. Crazy Aces, I think they're called,” he paused to stroke his chin. “Or was it Crazy Eights?”

  “The card game?” I looked at him to make sure he wasn't fucking with me.

  “Crazy eighty-eight?”

  “Wasn't that in a Tarantino movie?” Now, I knew he was fucking with me, I let him have his laugh.

  It belted out of him, and he caught my shoulder as he let it out. I shook my head at the spectacle he created. He nudged me when he was done, still cackling.

  “Where do these assholes come up with their names?”

  “Apparently card games and movies,” I shrugged him off of me. That put him into another giggling fit, this was a grown ass man laughing like a little kid. “You know shit about them? Are you capable of being serious?”

  He snorted as he seemed to finally reel himself in. “Only when I gotta be. I did ten years in the Navy, my friend. You were a ‘My ass rides in Navy equipment,’ weren't you?”

  I rolled my eyes, but nodded, “Why only ten years?”

  “I thought I could hack the long cruises,” he released a breath. “But I'm pretty sure that if I had to sleep in a tiny bunk again, I'd have some claustrophobic panic attacks. I don't miss that shit.” He took his glasses off and rubbed his fingers into his eyes. “Or listening to the planes take off and land all night long.”

  He looked back at me, and I saw a wariness in his brown eyes, he was probably serious about it all. Van Cleave was being open with me. I nodded, I didn't know how it was. I had never been on a carrier or had to sleep in the tiny bunks that sailors did.

  “We all lose a little bit of sanity to Uncle Sam,” I admitted, I wasn't sure how much I'd given him.

  “Ain't that the fucking truth,” he sighed. “The smart ones,” he gestured between himself and I. “Know when to get out before it's too late, amirite?”

  “I don’t know about you, man,” I gave him a smirk. It was said in jest, but here I was wondering if I got out before it was too late.

  “You need to go take care of your head, man,” he nodded towards my truck. “Take care of yourself. I’ll give you a holler before it’s time for us to get back to beating ass.”

  I offered him a hand, and he took it, pulling me in, so our shoulders bumped.

  “I appreciate it.”

  He gave me a nod, and I trotted out to my truck, I thought he was the closest thing I had to a friend. The guy had my back, and despite his jokes, he gave me some sound advice. I’d work on getting Dylan out of my head.

  10

  How the fuck do you flirt over text message? How the fuck are people able to get the meaning behind words without seeing one another? How the fuck am I going to pull off suave?

  It’s been two days, and I’ve asked myself this shit half a dozen times every time I picked up my phone and looked at the number I saved to my contacts. I didn’t have a clue as to how to start a conversation. I had started, and deleted, a number of attempted texts. Doubt was clouding me, and I had no real idea how I was going to do this. I had considered sending her a text that simply said, ‘Come over. I need a round two.’ But, something stopped me.

  ‘Everything taken care of?’ Maybe it was best to start with what would be at the forefront of her mind. Understandably, though, I wasn’t overtly concerned about knocking her up. It should be a concern, but it wasn’t. I didn’t want a kid, and I could see where she wouldn’t either. But I wasn't stressing over the idea.

  ‘Who is this?’

  While I saved her number, she didn’t save mine apparently. I felt the irritation burn up the back of my neck. How could she occupy my thoughts like this and I be so easily forgotten?

  ‘Cole,’ was my only response.

  There as a solid minute before she sent me a reply.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  I felt a moment of confusion at that. I texted her back.

  ‘Did you get everything taken care of?’

  ‘I’m sorry, my day has been hell. I’m a little slow to figure out what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Bad day?’ I hummed and continued to type. ‘Come here, and I’ll make it better. You can make it up to me for forgetting me.’

  ‘You want me to come over?’

  ‘You remember where I live?’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  I snorted, if only she knew.

  ‘Get your ass over here, and I’ll make you forget your bad day.’

  My phone went silent, and I wondered what was going through her mind. I spent the next thirty minutes flicking through the channels on the television and fidgeting with my phone. I didn’t want to appear needy. I wasn’t a needy person. But here I was with the thought of her coming over and repeating the morning of her riding my cock in my bed, I wanted her here now.

  Would she give in to my demand and come over?

  I got my answer when there was a knock at the door. I turned the television off and jerked the door open with an excitement I hadn’t felt in years. When I saw the girl on the front step, I couldn’t contain myself. She opened her mouth to speak, she didn’t get that far. I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into my house, throwing her onto a shoulder and slamming the door closed. She made a sharp noise and something that sounded like a complaint as I carried her back to my bedroom.

  “What’re you doing?” she demanded, her fists connecting hard with my back.

  I tugged her down, so she slid down the length of me, dragging her down my chest until we were face to face.

  “Said I’d make you forget your bad day, remember?”

  Her brows drew together, and I got a light, “Oh.” As if this had been a massive misunderstanding. Once her mouth was level with mine, I caught it in a hungry kiss. I might have groaned as soon as I pressed passed her lips and got a taste of her.

  All the ‘I don’t do this shit, ’ and the thoughts like it were out the door in favor of savoring her. I kept one hand firmly on her ass and hitched her leg up on my hip. She didn’t push away, she didn’t protest, she melded her mouth to mine and just let me plunder hers. Her arms went around my neck, and her fingers slid into my hair. The thoughts of her before had my dick interested enough, but having her here and being able to smell her had it at full attention. The taste of her mouth was just as sweet as I remembered, I was going to find out the way the rest of her tasted her. I let go of her and started to tug her shirt up. I pulled away from her mouth and had her shirt over her head, I pulled my own off.

  I went to kiss her again, but she pulled away. Her hands went to the bandages on my side, she was prying the medical tape up, and I didn’t want to wait while she inspected it. I moved her hands away and tried to pull her back to being close to me, but she wouldn’t let me.

  “Stop,” she said sharply, and I grunted, rolling my eyes so she could check me out. “The swelling has gone down,” she went to the next. “It still looks red, but it doesn’t look infected.”

  She looked pleased, and I took that as a sign that I could continue undressing her. I reached behind her to unhook her bra.

  “I don’t need a doctor’s note for this, do I?”

  She blushed as I worked her bra down her arms, “I think if you take it easy you should be alright. I don’t think it’ll be nece
ssary to get a doctor’s note.”

  “Really?” I tipped her chin up so she would have to look at me. “What if I don’t ‘take it easy?”

  I had this girl right here. The girl that I’ve not been able to get out of my head. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than throw her onto my bed and fuck her to the point that neither of us can move.

  Her blue eyes widened, but she shook her head. I pushed her back on the bed, she let out a short squeak but didn't protest. I unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them down her legs, I didn’t even check to see what her panties looked like. I was so ready to dive between her legs that I had to wrestle her shoes off to get her jeans out of my way. The last time we were together I didn’t get to see her fully. She had a neat little line of hair trimmed over her lower lips, and I couldn’t help, but stroke my fingers through it. I brushed my fingers down to part her flushed lips and look at her pink center, I didn’t wait for any queues.