by Jaci J
“Buck gettin’ anywhere?”
“Does worked up count?” Tyler laughs.
That’s where Buck and I differ. He’s good at keeping calm for the most part, thinking shit through and showing little emotion. It takes a lot to rile up the asshole, unless it’s Lennon doing the riling. Me? Once I get there, there’s no going back, and I get there easily. My emotions take over, and I lose my goddamn mind. I was there five minutes ago. Probably why I’m not Sargent at Arms. I’ve got the muscle, but I’ve got zero fucking control.
“Yo! Rock. Need ya in here,” Buck hollers. That’s another difference between Buck and me; I finish the job.
Pushing off of the concrete steps, I get up and walk off towards the old shed. Time to clean up another mess.
***
“My ass hurts.”
Leaning up against my bike, I swivel to look at the fuckin’ idiot. The shit this motherfucker says never ceases to irritate me. Poncho’s still straddling his bike, looking at me like I can give him a hand with his problem.
“Thanks for sharin’, man.” Not that I give a flying fuck about his ass. “But I don’t give a shit.”
“Been sittin’ for fuckin’ hours.”
We beat some information out of the Raiders hang around. We strung him up and hurt him real bad. It took some time, but we finally broke his ass, and he started spilling his guts like a goddamn piñata. The information we got from him has brought us here.
Standing outside in the snow, on the side of an old dirt road, I stare through the trees at an old barn. I’m standing under a few big Cedar trees, rubbing the hell out of my hands. Frostbite’s kicking in. The sun is starting to fall, making the shaded areas even colder. The 300 Win Mag at my back is bulky and awkward, and doesn’t allow me a jacket, which fucking sucks, but needing the heavy artillery, I have no choice but to deal.
“Nothin’,” Tyler says, walking back through the small clearing towards me. Shaking his head, he looks how I feel, so goddamn frustrated. I’m so tired of this shit. A little over a year ago, our brother Lou was brought down in cold blood. We laid low, following orders from Dan, even after they shot up the motel. The Raiders went quiet after that, laying low, causing us to work harder to find their fucking asses.
When I found Mike’s shit at Ellison’s apartment, we started watching her place, but she didn’t know that shit. I played it off, trying to find out anything I could about him without tipping her off, and I thought I was doing a good job of it. Maybe she told him I was asking, or caught on as to why, and gave him a heads-up to stay away. I don’t know and I didn’t ask, but I swear that fucker knew something, seeing’s to how we never found him coming or going from her place.
The two guys we shot on the roof a few weeks ago were a little help…well, one was. Buck’s man died before we got him back to the club. The Ryder I shot in the leg could only tell us that the Ryders and Raiders were joining forces to build themselves in numbers, and using their recent hiatus to stockpile their firepower to use against us.
“I don’t get this shit. That motherfucker said they’d be here,” Tyler growls, kicking at a rock before settling against his bike.
“Fuuuuuck.”
“You okay there, man?” Tyler chuckles.
“I’m good. Just plottin’,” I breathe.
“Good. Stay angry, motherfucker.” Always. Complacency will get ya killed.
Two hours later, the rumble of engines slice through the silence. Tyler turns and gives me the look.
“How many you think?” he asks.
“Two, maybe three.” Not that it really makes a difference. We’ve got Ben and Dan down on the other side, waiting.
“Get the bikes behind the tree,” I inform Poncho, pointing over the thick clump of trees twenty feet off the road. Poncho nods and runs his bike over. I’m right behind him.
“Get scarce, assholes,” I yell out to the others while running up the side of the hill.
Getting behind a dirt mound, I squat and pull the Win over my shoulder. For the second time in a few short weeks, I find myself picking these dumb fucks off like fleas. I’d rather use my fists, but I make do with the situation.
My aim is always on point, but Buck’s the guy for this job. Too bad he can’t stay away from Lennon for five goddamn minutes to do what needs to be done.
Giving the Win a once over, I rest it against the rock in front of me and get a good look through the scope. Lining it up with the road, I take a breath.
My fucking phone rings
Fuck.
Jerking it out of my pocket, I see Ellison’s name scroll across the screen. I ignore the call. Turning the ringer off, I toss it onto the ground at my feet, but I catch her name pop back up.
Jesus.
Ellison never calls back, and I mean never. Hell, she rarely ever calls me. Something in the pit of my stomach has me reaching for the phone and answering it real damn quick.
“Babe, not a good time…”
The rumble of engines gets even closer in the background.
“Rock?” she whispers. Her voice, quiet and scared, sends the hairs on the back of my neck on end. Something isn’t right.
“What? What’s wrong?” Down at the bottom of the hill, in the mess of trees, I catch Tyler giving me the go ahead.
Worst goddamn timing ever.
“There are people in my apartment,” she breathes into the phone. My stomach plummets straight to my fucking ass.
I have two choices; shoot blindly and hope to fuck I hit someone important, or stay, get the job done, and pray like hell that nothing happens to her in the time it takes me make some head rolls.
“Hang on, baby. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I want you to hide somewhere until I get there.” Ending the call, I drop it to my feet.
Sighting the gun, I watch as three Raiders plow down the snow covered gravel. My finger flexes and my heart slows. Then, I take a deep breath and shoot.
Focused on Ellison, I get my part done, and I’m up and off the hill in a heartbeat.
“Someone’s in Ellison’s place,” I shout over my shoulder halfway to my bike. Getting my bike from the bushes, I fire it up. My brothers will handle business.
“Go,” Tyler hollers at my back, and I’m gone.
Ellison
I’m not sure if the shake in my hands is from the cold or the adrenaline. My knees knock together and my teeth chatter as I hunker down. Crouching, my ass resting on my heels, I lean into the old siding of my building, trying desperately to blend in. Arms tucked against my sides, I hold my breath and pray.
Over the roof of the adjacent building, I catch the last little bit of sun disappearing behind the shingles. The sun goes down, and so does any bit of warmth I had.
Shit.
I can hear the men on the other side of my window, inside of my warm apartment, going through my things. Whoever they are, they’re in my room—my personal space. My stomach tightens at the idea of someone’s grubby, unfamiliar hands pawing at my shit.
Clutching my phone like a lifeline, I pray like hell that Rock gets here before that window opens. I’d hate to jump, but I will if I have to.
I had no one else to call, so I called Rock, knowing he’d answer.
I’d only been home for three damn minutes, enough time to set my purse down and peel off my coat when I heard boots coming up the steps and into the hall. Without a thought, I unlocked the door and looked out, assuming it was Rock. Unfamiliar voices alerted me to my colossal mistake.
I managed to grab my phone from my purse, and made it to my bedroom before I heard the front door open, followed by footsteps walking into my living room. I made it out the window and onto the concrete ledge outside.
Shivering from the wind and snow, I listen to them talk, not able to make out anything they’re saying. The voices finally stop, and so does my heart. Fear keeps me from peeking through the window, even when curiosity nags at me. Did they leave? Steal all of my crappy stuff?
Wrapping my arms around myself, I s
hiver violently, trying to keep warm, but it’s no use. I can either sit out here and freeze to death, or go in and take my chances against a bunch of ben ransacking my place.
Checking my phone for the hundredth time, I sigh. Jesus, I can see my breath.
I stay where I am for what feels like hours before I hear another voice, louder and angrier, but familiar. I sag in relief.
Rock.
“Ellison?” I’ve never been so happy to hear Rock yell in all my life. Standing as best as I can, I look down and hug the wall. Stupid idea. My feet are numb and freezing, and I’m shivering uncontrollably.
“O-out here.” My voice wobbles through my frozen lips.
The window bursts open, bouncing off the siding behind it. Rock’s mean mug peers through, looking right and left. His angry face pales when he notices that I’m on a ledge the width of my ass.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, babe.” Sticking a long arm out the window, he reaches for me. I do the same thing, desperate to be back inside. Taking his hand, I hang on for dear life. It might be selfish, but if I fall, I’m taking him with me.
His fingers wrap tightly around my wrist and jerks me towards the window, my feet skidding along the iced ledge.
“Duck your head,” Rock says, tugging me through the window as he pulls me through. I stumble, but I make it back inside without falling. He drags me in and wrap his arms around me.
“Your lips are blue.” His hands rub up and down my back, trying to warm me.
“It’s c-c-cold out there,” I chatter into his chest. He’s so warm.
“No shit, babe. It’s January.”
“But if I w-w-were in Hawaii, it’d be at least s-s-seventy degrees,” I mumble into his leather.
“Hawaii, huh?” Laughing, I can feel the vibrations deep in his chest against my face.
“Sunshine.”
“But you’re not in Hawaii. You’re here, and you should be in a fuckin’ coat.” “Why hadn’t I thought of that?”
“Shut up.” Rock keeps me close, arms wrapped tightly around me. If blue lips and frostbit toes gets me a face full of Rock, I can deal with no Hawaii sunshine and all his asshole comments.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I think so.”
“Missin’ any pieces?”
“Nothing important.”
He grabs the blanket from my bed and throws it over my shoulders, and continues to hold me close, trying to keep me warm. Once I finally stop shivering, he lets me go and holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Are you?” He looks extremely pissed off. His eyes are hard and his lips are grim. I get nothing but a discouraging grunt.
“Been better.”
“Want to share.”
Snorting, Rock gives his head one good shake. “Nah.
“Were they in here when you got here?” I ask as I peek around his body. My drawers are pulled out and my clothes are everywhere. My closet door is open and a few keepsake boxes are strewn across the floor.
“You see any dead bodies?” he counters.
“Well, no.”
“Then I didn’t kill anyone.”
My things have been touched and it bothers me. My shit is shit, but it’s my shit. It pisses me off knowing unfamiliar hands touched my stuff. “Check your shit, babe. See if anything’s missin’.”
I do a quick walk through, and nothing seems to be missing, but everything seems to have been touched. My couch cushions are on the floor. God only knows what they were looking for there, but looking around, I see they turned the whole place upside down.
Walking into the kitchen, I see the freezer door wide open and my heart sinks.
No.
Looking inside, I know I’m not going to find anything, but I still look, finding exactly what I expect. Nothing.
“Shiiiiiit!” I throw my hands up in defeat. Two thousand bucks is gone. It’s not a lot, really. It’s nothing to most, but I had been saving up for a new place. Just my damn luck. Letting my head sag, right along with my heart, I sigh loudly.
“What’s wrong?” Rock asks from somewhere behind me. I’m too preoccupied to turn around to look at him because I’m busy killing people in my mind. A butter knife in the eye sounds right. “Ellison?”
“Nothing.” There’s no use in telling him. He’ll insist upon replacing it, and I don’t want to owe him anything.
“Let’s go.”
“What? Where am I gonna go?”
“Where do you wanna go?”
“I’m not sure,” I shrug, but I can see the wheels turning behind Rock’s gaze. He’s got a plan.
“You’re either sleeping here with me or my place with me. Your pick. But either way, I’m with you.” I’m not sure I’m down with either option. Rock and I don’t do the sleeping in the same bed thing.
“Times up. Pack a bag.”
“Rock—”
“Pack, or I’ll pack for you.”
I weigh my options. I could stay here, be up all night scared shitless, or I could be at his place, uncomfortable, but less scared. This is so fucked up.
***
Dropping my bag at his feet, he looks down at it and back up at me, smirking. He got his way.
“Finally ready to move in with me?” Right. That’s exactly what I’m not doing. I packed everything I own in four minutes.
“You’re funny.”
“Babe, you know I’m a fuckin’ riot.” Yeah, he’s something all right.
***
Rocky lives above Tink’s bike shop in a small studio apartment with a leather sectional in one corner, and a giant king size bed in the other. Nothing else. No pictures, no knick-knacks. I think there are paper plates in the cupboard, and there might be milk in the fridge, but it’s likely expired. Rock lives here, but he doesn’t live here.
Where he lives is the place his mom raised him, in the little three-bedroom house in what was once the bad part of town, but now it’s considered up-and-coming. He’s fixing up the place, slowly, but surely.
Crawling into the middle of Rock’s bed, I sit Indian style, waiting for him. This is awkward.
Watching the bathroom door, Rock comes walking out and my heart starts to hammer against my chest. Propping my hand under my chin and my elbow on my knee, I physically hold my jaw up, keeping it from hitting the bed. He’s wearing a pair of old sweats with a hole in the knee and the waist frayed, and nothing else. I swallow back a pained moan.
So fucking hot.
I tear my eyes away from him, looking down at my hands in my lap instead. I let the man do dirty, nasty things to me, yet I can’t stare directly at him. He’s like the fucking sun.
“You gonna be okay over there?”
No. “Yes.”
“You sure?” Absolutely not. When I don’t answer, he says, “Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“You look good there on my bed.”
“I do?”
“Fuck yeah.” I think I kinda like being here in his bed too.
Five
Bed Buddies
Buck
“Stop movin’, babe.”
She’s rolling and flopping around, keeping my ass awake. I’m not sure what the hell she’s doing over there on her side of the bed, but I’d assume she’s practicing her gymnastics routine with all the bouncing she’s doing.
Couldn’t wait to get her in my bed, but now I’m rethinking it.
“I can’t sleep,” she declares. She shoots up out of the bed, messy blonde hair sailing over her face.
Clearly.
“Ya don’t fuckin’ say.” I’ve been damn near bounced clean off of the bed from all of her rolling and flipping. “Lay your ass back down, babe.”
Sighing, she throws herself back down and flops over, facing me
“Yes?” I’m so fucking tired.
“This is weird. We’ve never done this before, and I’m used to staying at my place.”
“Yeah? Why’s it we
ird?” Can’t see why anyone would miss that dump she lives in. Sure, inside her place is nice. Ellison made the best out of what she had, but it’s nothing worth missing.
“I’m not home, in my bed. It’s so quiet here.”
Quiet?
“Want me to make truck noises, shoot off my gun, go into the other room and shout some drunken bullshit?” I can’t stop the laugh that pours from my mouth. She’s so fucking difficult, it’s stupid. I can’t seem to figure this girl out. Years of friendship and I’m still trying to piece together the puzzle that’s El. She’ll let me fuck her, but she won’t sleep with me? She makes no sense, but she’s a woman. I figure she doesn’t have to.
“You’re so damn funny tonight,” she mutters, rolling onto her back, the blanket pulling down across her stomach. I instinctively lick my lips at what’s uncovered.
Wearing a sports bra and a pair of tiny booty short looking things, she looks damn fine, even wearing that stupid one boobed thing. It’s an unflattering piece of shit. She could wear a sack and she’d make my dick hard though, so I have nothing to complain about.
“Could fuck you to sleep.” I offer her my expertise. I can put her ass to sleep, given some fun time.
“Oh yeah?” she laughs. What the fuck does she have to laughs about?
“Is there a reason you always feel the need to push me, babe? You know I can fuck you to sleep.” Testing a man’s patience is a skill Ellison’s mastered. I’ve watched some strong assholes crumple under this woman.
“Would it be the fun if I just rolled over every time you crooked a finger? I’ve gotta keep you on your toes, and no one does that better than me.” She’s got me there.
“Wish you would roll over,” I mutter, letting my arm fall back over my face. I’ve been having a lot of sleepless nights lately, and tonight I’ve got one less thing to worry about here in my bed, but I’ll be damned if she’ll let me sleep.
“Whatcha got in mind for me?” She gets up and on her knees and rests her hands on her thighs. Hovering over me, she’s got a little man-eating glimmer in her eyes and a sneaky little smile. “Show me.”
I’ll show her.
What do I have in mind? My face between her thighs and my tongue in her pussy. Maybe her ass bouncing around on my dick. How about bent over the couch?