by Jessie Cooke
She sighed, obviously annoyed, but he ignored her. He flipped them over so that she was sitting on top of him and his back was against the mattress. She spent way too long adjusting herself, tightening her knees around his hips and nearly letting his dry cock fall out of her. He was losing his erection. This wasn’t fun, it was work. He grabbed her hips and began to drive himself up into her, hitting bottom each time and causing her to whimper. “Baby, you’re hurting me again.”
“Fuck, Annalise!” He put his hands on her hips and lifted her off him. “I’ll get myself off.”
“Jeez,” she said, folding her arms across her huge, fake tits. Annalise was a topless dancer at the club the Jokers owned in New Orleans. She was one of the club favorites because she could bend in so many different positions. That was why Grayson had started fucking her, and at first it had been great. Lately, however, all she did was complain, and complaining women turned him off. It was why he didn’t have an old lady, and probably never would. Women always wanted something more than he was willing to give them. Nobody wanted to just fucking have fun anymore. “Why are you so bitchy?”
Grayson ripped off the condom and threw it toward the trash can under the window next to the bed. “Trust me, Ana, I’m not the bitchy one here. This isn’t working for me anymore...”
“What? Gray...I’m sorry. We can try it another way. Here,” she said; turning onto her belly, she stuck her ass up in the air. It was a nice ass, and Gray felt his cock swell again. Maybe he could fuck her one more time before he cut her loose. When he didn’t jump back up on the bed, she looked over her shoulder, mascara smeared all over under her eyes and lipstick coating her teeth. She was usually pretty hot, but now that he’d decided he was done, he no longer saw what had attracted him. Well, except maybe that ass and those gigantic tits...but they weren’t real, and he didn’t even like the way they felt. Nope, three months of fucking the same woman was enough. He was done. He reached down and gently smacked her ass.
“You don’t have to be sorry; it’s just run its course.”
She turned back over and now she had a sneer on her face. With a snort she said, “You won’t do better than me. I wasn’t even going to say anything about you not being able to get it up...”
Grayson clenched his fist. She’d made him angry, but he’d never hit a woman. Once she left, he’d probably hit the wall...but he needed to get her out of there first. “It was up before you started bitching at me. Now get dressed, Ana, and go.” His cock and thighs were still covered with the sticky lube and he picked up his jeans off the floor and headed for the bathroom. There was a party going on downstairs, a baby shower of sorts for Chance. The Jokers took any chance they could get to throw a party and now Gray was thinking maybe there’d be some fresh meat there. Blackheart had hired a new crew of girls recently...it was time for something new.
“You’re an asshole!” she yelled after him. “You let me think...”
“Don’t. Don’t say it. I never let you think anything. I told you from day one that I wasn’t looking for anything but to get my nuts off, and you were okay with that.”
“Do you have to be so crude all the time?”
Grayson laughed. Annalise came from money. She’d run away from home when she was seventeen because she hated her father, but she’d gotten a job in an illegal club in Mississippi almost right away and that only served to feed her ego. She thought she was better than everyone at the strip club, and everyone in the MC. “You’re a stripper and I’m a 1%er who grew up in the swamp. You want higher class then stop slumming. Now get out. I’ve got a party to go to.”
He stepped into the bathroom and as soon as the door closed behind him, he heard the thump of whatever she threw at it, probably her shoe. He chuckled and then turned on the shower. Hopefully she got it, and she’d be gone by the time he got out. He was bored with her...he was bored with his life in general. He hoped that the meeting Blackheart and the executives had with the Green Sons produced something exciting for then to do. Lately he felt like he was riding with a bunch of fucking weekend warriors.
Thankfully Ana was gone when he came back out. He pulled on his t-shirt, kutte, and boots and ran a hand through his wet, black hair before heading down to the party. Before he even reached the landing, he could hear that it was already hopping. The music was loud and the conversation raucous. As soon as his boots hit the landing, he saw Gabriel and Tiny, shooting a round of pool. He motioned at one of the little club girls in a jester costume and she smiled and nodded, and then he headed over to the pool table.
“Hey!” he said to Gabe, “where’s Chance?”
Gabe took his shot and missed. He cursed and then looked at Gray and said, “He’s on his way. He went to see Sharon and the baby, said his bike took a shit but he caught a ride.”
Gray chuckled. “I told him that fuel pump was going out.” Gray was the lead mechanic and it was his job to make sure the bikes stayed running, especially the executives’ bikes. But Chance had been distracted lately and kept putting him off.
“Yeah, well, at least you know what you’ll be doing tomorrow,” Gabe told him with a laugh. Tiny was cleaning up the table and Gabe cussed again. “Fucking shark.” Tiny laughed.
“You played with me before. You knew how good I was before you put your money on the line.” Tiny looked at Gray then and said, “I thought you were fucking elephant tits – that was quick. Did you come in your hand?”
Gray flipped him off and took the beer out of the little blonde’s hand. He slapped her on her butt and said, “Thank you, love.” She winked at him and headed back toward the bar. When Gray tore his eyes off her ass and looked up, Tiny was looking at him with a smirk on his face.
“You are looking at that little ass like you ain’t had a bite in years and you’re fucking starving. What happened up there?”
“None of your fucking business, fat boy. When was the last time you got your dick wet...1985?”
Tiny missed his shot and Gabe and Gray high-fived. “Fuck you two Swamp rats,” Tiny said, tossing his stick down on top of the table and picking up the money he’d laid out.
“Hey, we ain’t done here,” Gabe said.
“Yeah, we are,” Tiny growled. It was well known around the club that Tiny was a bad sport and hated to lose. He was a good guy otherwise so Gray wasn’t worried. He knew Tiny would calm down after he had a few beers. He turned back to Gabe and said:
“You seen the kid yet?” Grayson had gone to school with Gabe and Chance. He’d been two grades ahead of them, but they’d still hung out a lot. Gray knew Chance had a hot head even before he beat his stepfather to death with his bare hands when he was seventeen. He couldn’t help but wonder how Chance would deal with looking at a kid who looked like Gregor the rapist for the rest of his life.
Gabe shook his head. “He’s not even three pounds yet,” he said. “He’ll be in the hospital for a while.”
“How’s Chance doing with it?” Gray asked. Gabe put his cue stick down and picked up his beer. After taking a drink he said:
“He’s good, bragging about the kid like any father...so don’t say anything stupid. He already doesn’t like you much.”
Gray chuckled. “That’s because he’s been holding onto a stupid grudge for five fucking years.”
Gabe started to open his mouth, but something near the front of the club caught his attention and Gray followed his eyes. Chance had just walked in. Gray was smiling, until he saw who it was that walked in behind him. His mouth went dry and his heart began to race. His palms were suddenly as sticky as his dick had been about half an hour before, and the acid in his stomach felt like it was eating a hole straight through. Gabe jerked his head in Gray’s direction as soon as he saw her. Without taking his eyes off her Gray said:
“Did you know she was here?”
“Knew she was in town.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
Gabe stepped into his line of vision and with his face just a little too close fo
r comfort he said, “Don’t fuck with her, Gray. You know how Chance feels about the two of you. He’s just starting to get over the fact that you helped her take off five years ago.”
“That place they lived was a fucking shithole, you knew that. She begged me to help her – what was I supposed to do? She was a kid...”
“That you were in love with,” Gabe said. “You’re lucky Chance didn’t kill you back then.”
“I never touched her. I told her when she turned eighteen...”
“By then she was doing good on her own, and I’m guessing she still is. But she’s here stirring all this Bubba shit up again, and Chance has that, and the new baby and Sharon...”
“Don’t worry,” Gray said. “I won’t fuck with her.”
“Good.” Gabriel put a smile on his face and walked toward the door. Gray tried to take his eyes off Poppy, but he couldn’t. She was even more beautiful now that she was getting more mature. She’d always been pretty, but now she was smoking hot. It was why she was making a killing in Los Angeles, doing clothing ads and walk-on roles on soap operas. No one knew, not even Poppy, but he’d kept tabs on her all along. He’d accepted years before that they’d never be together...but his heart had just never been able to let her go.
His mind went back to the night he’d taken her out of town to catch the train in Mississippi. She didn’t want Chance to know where she was going; she told Gray she’d call him when she got there. All he knew for sure was that she was going to LA, escaping a lifetime of hell. He wanted to go with her, and she’d invited him. But Grayson had just turned twenty years old, and Poppy was only sixteen. He couldn’t run away with a teenage girl...as much as he wanted to. He’d stood with her on the platform of the train station that night, tears in his eyes to match the ones in her pretty green ones. He remembered the way she looked, how she smelled, and exactly what her sweet voice sounded like when she said, one last time, “Please go with me, Gray.”
He’d swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “I can’t.” The tears began to roll down her face and he put his mouth down close to her ear. He gripped her arms too tightly, afraid to let her go, and he said, “As soon as you’re eighteen, Poppy, I’ll be there...”
“That’s two years from now. You’ll meet someone else by then and you won’t want me anymore.”
“I’m going to want you forever. I promise you, Poppy...only two more years and we’ll be together forever. In the meantime, though...” He pulled the roll of cash from his pocket. He’d gone to his Maw Maw, a hateful old woman who had never been any kind of grandmother to him, and he’d guilted her into giving him a few thousand dollars. Polly was shaking her head as soon as she saw it.
“I don’t want your money. I want you.”
“Take it, so I don’t have to worry. I’ll get you more as soon as I can...”
“No,” she’d said. He started to tell her again, just as the train whistle blew and they announced it was leaving. One last time she’d said, “Grayson, please...” He was shaking his head and she turned toward the train. When she did, he stuck the money in her bag and as she walked away, he whispered:
“I love you, Poppy.”
She hadn’t answered him, and once she was gone, she stopped taking his calls. He’d been to California every chance he’d gotten since then, and he’d even hired a guy to watch her and make sure she was doing okay, but each time he’d chickened out at seeing her face to face. He’d followed her out on a few dates, feeling creepy while he did it, but noting the men she was attracted to as an adult were nothing like him. They spoke articulately, dressed expensively, drove fancy cars, and took her to five-star restaurants for dinner. Gray’s grandmother had money, but she’d never given any of it to his family and he’d grown up the son of a fisherman and a preschool teacher. They weren’t dirt poor, but by no means were they rich...and a few rungs less than cultured. They were swamp people, and by all accounts Poppy looked to have left that part of her life behind.
On the occasions she came home to look for Bubba she had avoided him completely. As far as he knew, this was the first time she’d ever come to the club. The only contact he’d had with her since that day was by mail...a check for three thousand dollars had come about a year after she left. She’d added a Post-it note that said:
“Thanks.” It was like she’d driven a knife into his heart, and he’d torn it up and tossed it in the trash, the note and the check both. But now there she was...in the flesh...and he couldn’t deny that his flesh still ached for hers.
8
Poppy was working on becoming an actress. She’d done several commercials, and a few tiny roles in soap operas. Los Angeles was competitive though, so she was also taking acting classes at USC, and doing free shows for a small community theater in Irvine. She thought she was a pretty good actress after three years of all of that, but now as she walked across the dirty, crooked floor of the Jokers clubhouse, she had to wonder. She had to consciously think about every step she was taking, and every part of her body, inside and out, was shaking. She thought the look on her face was neutral, but she wasn’t sure she’d bet money on it. It had been five years since she saw Grayson, and she thought she’d put all that behind her. She’d told herself that what she felt for him had just been a schoolgirl “crush,” just like the one she’d had on Gabe for a while. But Grayson was different. He’d saved her, more than once, from the hell that was her life. He’d been the only one willing to help her go that night...and she could still remember what it felt like to be in his arms on that platform, his voice and his breath in her ear, whispering that he loved her. She was sure she loved him too, but she’d been hurt and angry that night because he wouldn’t go with her, so she’d been unable to say it. But it was just a crush, she reminded herself, again. She was sixteen and she hadn’t even known what love was...and since it had been five years and Grayson hadn’t even tried to contact her, obviously, neither had he.
Poppy shuddered, and then cursed herself. She was trying so hard to pretend his presence didn’t affect her, but those dark gray eyes still seemed to be looking straight into her soul, and just a glance at them from across the room brought all the memories she had of him rushing back. She shook her head slightly to shake them off, and then squared her shoulders and followed her brother through the door marked “Office.” As soon as she was inside, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was an alligator on the far wall, behind the desk. Poppy had grown up in the swamps, and she’d lived through so much that she wasn’t easily intimidated...but the gator was obviously meant to intimidate, as was the man who stood behind the desk underneath the swamp monster.
Evan “Blackheart” Babineaux was a lot older than her, but it was impossible to grow up in Atchafalaya and not know who he was. Besides the fact that he was a beautiful man, he had quite the reputation for helping the poor and destitute Cajuns who struggled to eke out a living in the swamp. He was also rumored to be a dangerous man to cross, and Poppy knew enough about MC culture to know if she crossed one...even if he was her brother...she had crossed them all.
“Blackheart, this is my sister, Poppy,” Chance said.
Blackheart smiled at her, but his eyes were still cold as he held out his hand and said, “Poppy, welcome home.”
“Thank you,” she said, forcing a smile and taking his hand. His grip was firm, and Poppy returned it as firmly as she could before letting go first and saying, “I appreciate you seeing us.”
Blackheart looked at Chance and then back at her and then waved a colorful arm at the seat behind her before sitting down in his own. She and Chance sat down and without further ado, Blackheart said:
“I’ve helped Chance on more than one occasion follow leads he had on your brother. I can tell you that he’s followed even the smallest leads, and he’s done everything possible in the past five years to track him down. The police have Bubba listed as a runaway, and he’s in the database of missing children across the US. We’ve hired private investigators, and so hav
e you...so what I’m asking you here is what else is there to be done?”
Poppy felt her blood pressure rising. She had read a little blurb in the paper earlier in the year about Blackheart’s sister being kidnapped. She would bet a million dollars that he moved heaven and earth with his own two hands to find her. But it sounded to her like he was saying she needed to give up, and that pissed her off. Chance had talked her into coming, telling her that Blackheart was some kind of miracle worker, thanks to all his connections. But two minutes in and he already seemed to be ready to wash his hands of the whole affair. She returned his gaze with what she hoped was equal amounts of intensity and said, “We haven’t found him, so that’s what’s left to be done.”
Blackheart’s lips twitched, not quite into a smile, but he did look slightly amused. “I will do whatever I can to help you,” he said, “but you need to understand two things first.”
She folded her arms and said, “And what is that?”
“I don’t care what your relationship is with your brother, Chance...but I will not stand for one of my men, my sergeant at arms, to be accused of murder.” She resisted rolling her eyes and after a few seconds of uncomfortable eye contact she said:
“And the other thing?”
“Once you give this to me, you’re no longer in charge.”
Poppy smirked and finally tore her gaze out of Blackheart’s to look at her brother before standing up and saying, “You might enjoy having someone pull your strings like a puppet, but I don’t. Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll keep looking on my own...” She didn’t even look back at Blackheart before heading for the door. He let her reach for the doorknob before saying:
“I think your mother knows what happened to him. I’m going to have the investigator look for her first.”