Opal (Rugged Skulls MC Book 2)

by Amy Davies

  Opal

  Sighing, I throw myself back onto the sofa in the main room of the Phoenix chapter, pissed that we lost track of Omen. The fucker knew we were watching him, so he bolted from home and made his way here. Magnum sent me and Sarge to hunt the cunt down.

  A beer is placed in front of me. I look up and take the beer off Sarge, before downing the whole thing. It has been nearly two weeks since I’ve been home and seen Jodie. I tried texting and calling her, but after radio silence from me after three days, I guess she’s pissed at me.

  I smile to myself, picturing her pissed off face; her cheeks flushed red and her eyes narrowed at me; her dark painted lips thin but still sexy. They will look even sexier wrapped around my cock. Very fucking soon.

  I push down on my dick as he thickens in my jeans.

  “You missing your doc back home?” Sarge asks, before taking a sip of his whiskey. He’s always on the hard stuff.

  “Yeah. I think she’s pissed because I left it a few days before calling or texting her,” I tell him.

  “Is she your old lady?”

  I shrug. “I did call dibs at the club that day, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, but, brother, that was because Slide was going to step the fuck in. You know that man will fuck anything with a pussy and a mouth,” Sarge says while he eyes a Reg across the room.

  “Nah, brother. She does something to me. I kind of get why Prez called dibs on Risky as soon as she stepped foot into the club.”

  “You barely know the bitch. She could be a loose lay in bed, or like a dead fish sucking your cock, man. Check her out before you call dibs again,” he states, still watching the Reg across the room.

  “Don’t call her a bitch, Sarge. I mean that shit,” I growl at him. He cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “Fair enough. But take it from me: don’t jump in the deep end.” Nudging his leg with my own, I nod in the direction of the Reg.

  “Go, brother.” He doesn’t hesitate. He makes his way over to the woman and drags her out of the room.

  At least one of us is getting his dick wet.

  I sit and watch everyone. This is what I do; I people watch. I take in their movements, their personalities. Reading someone’s body language has helped me in a shit load of situations over the years and saved my life and the lives of soldiers around me many times.

  I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket and use my thumb print to unlock it and call Jodie again. It rings three times before she answers, out of breath.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, are you okay?” I ask, sitting forward and resting my elbows on my knees. I’m not one to think the worst when I come into a situation, but fuck me, the shit that is running through my head when it comes to this woman is enough to break my solace.

  She sighs before she answers. “I’m okay. What do you want, Opal?”

  Fuck. She is not only pissed but I can hear the disappointment in her voice.

  Closing my eyes, I lay back against the couch, her disappointment hitting home. Twisting the ring on my thumb, I answer her, hoping to fuck I can soothe her mood.

  “I wanted to hear your voice,” I say, lowering the tone of my own.

  “Why?” she asks, her voice sounding deflated. The music thumps through the speakers and I shake my head at the Reg that turned that shit up.

  “Hang on, let me go outside,” I tell her. I climb to my feet and make my way outside to sit on one of the car tire seats in the front yard.

  “You still there?” I ask as I sit down.

  “Yeah.” She sighs again.

  “Listen, I know I left without contacting you, but, baby, I had to go out of town on club business. From there I hit the ground running. I’ve barely had time to take a piss.”

  “Okay,” she replies, sounding disinterested. Now it’s my turn to sigh.

  “I’ll be back in three days. I want to take you out on a date,” I tell her, but her sigh is loud through the phone. My stomach tightens, but I know I won’t give up on getting her.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Stefan. Let’s just stop whatever this is now. It just isn’t going to work. Sorry. Be safe.” With that, she hangs up the phone and I resist the urge to throw the damned thing across the yard.

  Shit.

  Getting to my feet, I walk to one of the back rooms where Oscar is working on tracking Omen down. I rap my knuckles on the door before pushing it open and find Oscar tapping furiously on his keyboard.

  “You got anything, brother?” I ask, taking the seat next to him. He doesn’t look at me when he answers.

  “I got a glimpse of him over by the gas station, but after that it’s like he vanished into thin air, man. It’s like he’s one step ahead and it is fucking with my head. The shit he did to you and Click is fucked up.” He shakes his head. I can tell by the drawn look on his face that he’s tired and hasn’t stopped searching.

  “Take a breather, brother. Get some sleep.” I tap his shoulder and walk out of his room, heading to my temporary one.

  Stripping off my clothes, I head for the shower and turn the water to as hot as it will go. I need it hot to help my muscles relax. Bending my head under the water, the hot spray hits the back of my neck and I can feel the tension roll off me.

  Looking down, my cock is hard from being neglected, poor bastard. Images of Jodie on her knees before me come to mind; her seductive amber eyes staring right into my soul, her dark red lips primed and ready to wrap around my dick and make me come in her throat.

  “Shit,” I moan, as my hand slides up and down my shaft while I imagine Jodie’s lips sliding over me, leaving red streaks on my skin. My hand pumps faster and faster, which has my balls tightening and my spine giving me that delicious tingle that tells me I’m about to bust a nut.

  “Fuck yeah, baby. Suck it back,” I moan, my eyes squeezed so tight lights flash behind my eyelids. I come with a loud groan, Jodie’s name on my lips.

  Watching as my cum washes down the drain with the hot water, I can’t help but feel like more bad shit is coming my way. After washing up, I step out and dry off before climbing into bed and letting sleep take me.

  Banging on the door wakes me from a sexy as hell dream of me fucking Jodie in her pool.

  “What?” I croak out, then clear my throat and answer again. “What?”

  “We have him, brother. Get dressed and meet us downstairs,” Crude says through the door. His words register and I leap out of bed, tugging on my clothes and boots before grabbing my keys, wallet and phone.

  Racing down the stairs, I meet the boys in the bar, ready to go with me to catch the motherfucker and end him once and for all.

  Each of them gives me a nod and we follow Colt and Crude out the door and mount our bikes. We ride for over thirty minutes; the sound of our pipes echo through the air. The vibration of my bike beneath me calms me some, helps get my head straight, and I am going to need it on straight when I see this fucker.

  Colt pulls off the road and turns his bike off, and we all follow suit. He dismounts and puts his helmet on the seat. I do the same and step over to him and Crude.

  “About a quarter mile down the dirt road is an old ranch that hasn’t been used in years. It’s been said that some bikers have been seen coming and going but no one could tell what their colors were. From the description, we think Omen is one of the fuckers in there.”

  “Okay, so how do we do this? Hard and heavy or slow and tactical? I think hard and heavy. Surprise them and take them all down, even if Omen isn’t in there.”

  My own words shock me, and Colt cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “This your gut talking or is the need for revenge clouding your senses?” Colt asks.

  “My gut. I can feel that he is there, brother. I want this over with so I can get back home to my woman,” I tell him, clenching my fists at my sides. Nodding, he whistles, and everyone comes closer.

  “You have a woman? Since when?” Crude pipes in, smiling at me. He knows how Dezi is around me. Kara filled
him in when he was last back at our club.

  “I do. She just doesn’t like me much right now, hence why I need to get the fuck home. I’m in the doghouse,” I tell him. The boys around us chuckle and I flip them off with a smile on my face.

  I look to Colt, then Crude and Sarge, and they are all in with me. My club will always have my back, in every situation, and I them.

  “Spread out. We go in fast and we go in hard. Take down any fucker that isn’t a Rugged Skull or who is a threat to you and the club,” Colt instructs, and the boys around us nod in agreement. They want this over with as much as I do.

  “I want Omen,” I demand. Another nod. Then we move.

  Spreading out, we surround the shitty, run-down building. Music is blaring and laughing, and yells can be heard. Fucking dipshits won’t see us coming. With my gun aimed in front of me, I look at Colt and he nods, before letting out a loud whistle that I’m sure dogs for miles heard.

  Crude lifts his foot and kicks the door in. I step in first, my gun up in front of me, waiting to take someone down. A guy walks out of the door, raising his gun, but I take him down first. His body hits the floor and I step over him, walking into the room. Smoke fills the air. There is a chick lying on the sofa with a needle hanging out of her arm, completely passed out. Shaking my head, I turn and leave the room. Shots and screams can be heard all around as I move through the large house. I clear two rooms, with Colt and Crude at my back.

  “Clear,” someone shouts, and I grit my teeth.

  “Clear,” comes again. My fears are coming fucking true because Omen isn’t here.

  I step into the kitchen and find three men in Snake Heads cuts. Motherfucker. Omen joined the fucking club that Jodie’s ex belongs to. This shit just keeps getting better. Why are they in Phoenix? I need to find that shit out.

  We clear the whole house, checking the basement and attic, but there is no sign of Omen. Plus, none of the guys have shaggy, dirty blond hair, so I know Jodie’s ex-husband isn’t one of the dead.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, walking back through the house to meet the boys outside. I see Tank holding his bicep, blood seeping through his fingers, and Jazz is limping with blood soaking his jeans.

  “We either just missed the fucker or he was never here, brother,” Colt says, lighting his cigarette up. Nodding, I walk over to Tank and pull his hand away to check the wound.

  “Looks like it went straight though and missed anything vital.” Walking over to Jazz, I pull apart the hole in his jeans, giving me better access to his wound.

  “Ouch, fucker,” he whines, and I smile up at him, before poking around the bullet hole more.

  “Pussy,” I mutter. “The bullet is still in there, but by the way you’re walking on it, it missed the bone. Do you have a doc to take care of this, or is he taking a trip to the hospital?” I ask Colt.

  “We’ve got a doc. Crude, call Doc Holly, have her meet us at the club.”

  We saddle up on our bikes, and Tank and Jazz jump into a cage we brought to cart Omen back to the club. My blood boils at the thought that the fucker slipped through my fingers again, but mark my words, we will catch him. His time is coming.

  Thirteen

  Jodie

  It’s Saturday morning and I have no work. I never work on the weekend; these days are reserved for me and Tuck time. Stretching, I lean over for my phone and see two texts from Opal and three missed calls and three texts from Roy.

  It’s just after nine in the morning. Why the hell are they texting me so damned early? I see that one of Opal’s is from late last night and one from an hour ago.

  What a great way to ruin my Saturday morning.

  Roy didn’t leave a voicemail, but I read his texts.

  Fuckface: I want to see my boy.

  Fuckface: I am coming to see Tuck today. He had better be ready.

  Fuckface: Answer me, bitch.

  Sighing, I climb out of bed and go into my bathroom. Thank God it’s separate to Tuck’s, because sometimes I like to air dry after a bath or shower. Once I’ve showered and dressed, I go looking for Tucker. I find him in his room, watching Power Rangers on his TV.

  “You okay, bud?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing his pajama shorts with no top. He never likes wearing a top to bed. He overheats and gets flushed.

  “Yeah, Mom. Hungry. Can we have pancakes, please?” he asks after he’s pressed pause.

  “Of course, baby. Do you want to help me? We can add some chocolate chips and maybe make ones with fruit.”

  His smile fills his face as he leaps from the bed and runs at me. I pick him up with an, “oomph”.

  “Jesus, boy, you are getting too big for me to do this,” I tell him but keep him in my arms. Once we get to the kitchen, I put Tuck on the stool by the center island, huffing out a breath. Damn I am unfit.

  We sit and talk while getting the ingredients to make our Saturday morning pancakes, and I know I need to breach the topic of Roy coming today to see him. Stirring the mixture, I look at Tuck, who is concentrating on cutting up some strawberries with his plastic knife.

  “Tuck, honey, can we talk?” I ask, leaning my forearms on the island. He looks up and puts the plastic knife down, giving me his full attention. See I taught him right.

  Sighing, I start. “So, your dad wants to come and see you today.”

  “Okay.” He shrugs, sounding indifferent. He learned a long time ago not to get his hopes up when it came to his dad. As I’ve said, Roy was never a present father. He only came home when it suited him; now I know that he was out doing MC business.

  I was stupid to not take notice of the change in him when I came home from deployment. I was just lucky that my family took care of Tucker when I was away on training. He loved spending time with his grampa and uncle Archie.

  “Maybe he means it this time, Tuck.” I try to cheer him up and sound enthusiastic.

  “Maybe, but you know what he’s like.” Nodding, I walk back over to the mixing bowl, picking it up along with the choc chips before turning back to Tuck.

  “Hey, what do you say we have choc chip and strawberries all in?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, and he giggles, nodding, climbing onto his knees.

  We spend the next hour mixing and making pancakes, adding in some random ingredients, like Swedish Fish, kiwi fruit—which didn’t end well—and some Hershey’s kisses—which were my favorite.

  We decided to take our huge pile of random pancakes and sit out on the back deck and eat. I drink my coffee and listen to Tucker telling me about basketball training this week in school. They are looking at adding more training sessions because they have a mini tournament coming up this summer.

  My phone vibrates on the table. I reach over for it and I see that the front doorbell camera has kicked in. I hit the app and see Roy standing there in his MC cut, jeans and t-shirt. Pulling in a big breath, I look at Tuck, whose gaze is fixed on my phone like he can see through the back of it.

  “Dad’s here.” It isn’t a question but an observation.

  “Yeah, baby. Come on. Leave everything here; I’ll clean it up later.”

  We both stand and make our way inside, my heart racing. The last time I saw Roy, he was very verbally abusive to me, calling me every nasty word under the sun.

  Reaching the front door, I take a deep breath and look one last time at my boy, who is standing back. He gives me a nod and I pull the door open.

  “About fucking time. Where is he?” Roy sneers as soon as the door is fully open.

  I shake my head as he tries to look around me for Tuck, but I know he will hide out of sight until I can gage what mood Roy is in. By the looks of his very first interaction in months, he is pissed.

  “He’s cleaning up after breakfast,” I lie. “He will be here in a little bit.”

  “Fuck that. TUCKER,” he bellows, making me jump out of my skin. I grip the door, pulling it almost closed behind me, making Roy back up.

  “Behave, for fuck’s sake. He won’t want to
see you if you’re in this pissy mood. What the hell is wrong with you?” I spit out at him.

  His lips curl and he growls before stepping up to me again, but I don’t back down. Roy has never hit me, but he does have a mean streak. His pupils look dilated, which means he’s on something. Resting my hands on my hips, I go at him again.

  “What are you on, Roy?”

  My gaze bounces between his eyes. He sniggers at me, before reaching into the inside pocked of his cut, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He blows the smoke in my face.

  I cough and splutter. He knows how much I hate smoking. I wave the smoke away from my face and he laughs at me. That’s when I notice that he’s missing two teeth. Jesus, what the hell has happened to him?

  “Always thinking you’re better than me, huh, bitch. Y’all ain’t. Now get me my boy,” he spits out at me.

  Shaking my head, I back up and shut the door so he can’t force his way in. Thank the Lord for fingerprint locks.

  “No. You are not seeing him when you’re like this. Why don’t you go away and get clean, and they maybe I will let you see him,” I explain.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. Go and get him, now,” he growls, stepping forward, but I shake my head.

  “No. Now back off before I call the police.”

  It’s then I hear the sound of pipes and my heart races with fear and excitement. I don’t know if that’s more of Roy’s club or possibly Opal, because he said he wanted to come by today.

  Roy looks around, and his back goes stiff when he sees the bike. His shoulders tense up but mine sag in relief. I may be pissed at Opal, but damn, he is a sight for sore eyes right now.

  Today he’s wearing a denim shirt under his cut, and he looks freaking delicious.

  “You friends with a biker? I always knew you were a fucking whore.”

  I gasp and my anger spikes, so I swing my arm to slap him across the face, but he anticipates it. He grips my wrist, holding me firmly, and uses his other hand to backhand me across the face.

  The slap resonates through my body. I see stars behind my eyelids and my skin burns. The hit has me losing my balance, and I fall against the wall. My shoulder scrapes across the building and I cry out from the pain.