by Joanna Wylde
“You have history with Puck Redhouse,” he stated. “That’s obvious. That something I should be worrying about?”
Yes! Everyone should worry about Puck—he’s dangerous!
“No. No problem there—Puck and I knew each other for a while, once. That’s all. There’s no history. Nothing that matters now.”
My stomach twisted as I said it, because that was a big fucking lie. Puck definitely mattered. There was Life Before Puck and Life After Puck, and those two lives had nothing in common.
But the first life was firmly in the past and I needed it to stay there. Maybe Joe could be part of the second. Snuggling deeper into his arm, I savored his warmth and for the first time in years considered what it might be like to have a decent man in my life.
This is what we want, my brain said firmly. Now enjoy it.
THREE
PUCK
The sound of the phone woke me. Carlie groaned.
“Make it stop,” she murmured, although I could tell she wasn’t really awake. “Don’t wanna get up.”
Rolling to the side of the bed, I sat up and reached for the handset, wondering for the thousandth time when we’d finally get some fucking cell towers here in the north valley. Should’ve stayed at her house. Wouldn’t have been able to track me down there.
“Puck, it’s Boonie,” my president said. Scratch that—he’d have found me at her place, too. Carlie was good people, and she knew how things were with the club. More than one church meeting had happened in her living room over the past couple of years. I kept thinking Deep would claim her, but she didn’t seem quite ready to settle down with one man. For now, she drifted through different beds, which seemed to work for her.
Worked for me, too.
I’d been horny as fuck last night, no pun intended. It’d been six months since I’d seen Becca—the woman was more beautiful now than she’d ever been. She’d turned twenty-one three months ago . . . Three months I’d spent reminding myself of all the reasons I should stay away from her—the same reasons that’d kept me away the last five years. She’d been abused by bikers. In her eyes I was probably the best of the lot, which was a fucking shameful thought to tolerate. She was terrified of motorcycle clubs and me and just about everything, and whenever I tried to talk to her, she flinched. Oh, and she was too goddamn young.
Except she wasn’t too young anymore.
That’s what really messed with my head. If I wanted her, I could take her. Nobody would stop me—not even Becca. She was hot for it, which was painfully obvious despite her best efforts to stay distant.
I’d be flattered if her response wasn’t to pretend I didn’t exist.
So instead of opening my window, walking over, and staking a claim to what my dick asserted (strongly) was my rightful property, I’d fucked Carlie instead. She wasn’t the one I wanted but the woman was a yoga teacher. What kind of dumbass turns that down?
“What’s up?” I asked Boonie, rubbing the back of my neck.
“You sound like crap,” he said, laughing. “Hungover?”
“No, just stayed out too late. You need something, or you just determined to make my life a living hell for shits and grins?”
“Wow, someone needs his beauty sleep. I’ve got a job for you. Need you to make a run into town, connect with our friends there. Bring your truck.”
“Got it.”
Hanging up the phone, I reached over and smacked Carlie’s butt.
“Suck your own dick,” she moaned. “Wanna sleep some more.”
“At the moment I’d take sleep over you sucking my dick, too,” I replied, rubbing my face and yawning. “But I need you up and out. That was Boonie—he’s got business for me.”
She moaned again, but she sat up and rolled out of the bed. I watched as she leaned over, boobs jiggling. They were nice, but Becca’s were better. Remembered them vividly. She’d filled out since then, which I’d bet my left nut just made them better.
Oh yeah. That was enough to wake my cock up.
Suddenly I wasn’t so interested in going back to sleep, but when the president says move, tapping ass ceases to be a priority. I stumbled toward the shower, ducking under long enough to rinse off the sweat and by the time I’d come out Carlie was dressed.
“You need a ride?”
“Nope, I’m going over to Darcy’s shop,” she said. “Got an appointment in an hour and a half to get my highlights done. Figure I’ll stop off and grab her some coffee on the way. Assuming they’re open after your little bust-up yesterday.”
I grunted.
“So what was that really all about?” she asked, obviously not ready to let it go. “Never seen you get that worked up about a waitress before. Something I should know about?”
Something about her voice sounded off . . . Wait.
“What do you think we have here?” I asked, frowning.
She shrugged, but I caught the hurt look on her face. Fuck. Hadn’t seen that coming. Carlie was a nice girl but no fucking way I planned to get involved with her.
“It’s just sex, babe,” I told her. “You know that, right?”
She didn’t look at me. Double fuck. Okay, probably shouldn’t hit that again, not if she was going to get all clingy and shit. Not that it was my problem if she did, but Deep was into her and I didn’t need complications like this in my life. Hopefully she’d catch the hint. I threw my shit together as she dug around for her purse. The woman wasn’t stupid—less than a minute later and she was ready to go.
“You want me to call you?” she asked as I opened the door for her. I shrugged.
“No, I’ll probably be busy. Don’t wait on me, okay?”
“I hear you,” she said softly, then started down the stairs, moving fast to get away from me. I closed the door behind me and locked the dead bolt, wondering how I could be so goddamned stupid. She was already out in the alley as I reached the bottom and stepped outside.
Out in the alley talking to someone.
Joe Collins.
Holy motherfucking, cocksucking shit.
Joe Collins was coming out of Becca’s building. Something dark and hateful boiled through me and I considered whether I had enough time to kill him and dump the body before meeting up with Picnic Hayes.
Then reality caught up with me and I had to bite back a humorless laugh. Instant karma, right?
Carlie got the shaft and apparently so did Becca. Just not from me.
—
Half an hour later I was just shy of the I-90 turnoff when I saw a car pulled off on the side of the road, emergency lights flashing. That was Becca’s little Subaru. Fucking perfect, because I didn’t have time for this and I really didn’t want to talk to her—not after watching that asshole leaving her place.
When I’d seen them together at the bar last night I’d nearly lost my shit. Nothing less than instant hatred toward the bastard holding her. For years now I’d been keeping an eye on Becca, my club brothers standing in for me when I wasn’t around. So far as I knew, she hadn’t really dated anyone seriously. This one, though . . . I’d asked around, and apparently Collins was a decent guy who could hold his own. Exactly the kind of man she should probably be with, which made me hate him even more. Cocksucker.
The whole thing had messed with me, especially after seeing her rolling around with Blake on the roof.
Not that I took the apartment to be close to her. Wasn’t a factor. Sure, there were other places to rent. Cheaper places. Nicer. But the downtown location was perfect, close to all the . . . well, Callup didn’t have anything downtown. Fuck. Didn’t know what I was hoping to accomplish here—she was beyond off-limits. But then I’d seen her last night and the limits shifted . . .
Now here she was, stuck on the side of the road.
I really, really didn’t want to see her. Didn’t want to see her pretty tits, which looked exceptionally nice this morning, all pushed up with her arms crossed under them. Had no interest in her hair, or how it would look wrapped around my cock
. Speaking of things that should’ve been wrapped around my cock, her lips were nice and puffy.
Bruised from sucking Collins’ dick last night?
“What the fuck happened here?” I growled, stepping out of my truck. At least she’d found a decent pullout, one of those wide spaces overlooking the river, shaded by the cottonwoods.
“It made a clanking noise and stopped running,” Becca said, eyes darting toward me. “Earl will help me fix it—he always does . . . Is there any chance you could call him for me up at the gas station?”
Yeah. I’d get right on that.
“Grab your shit and get into the truck,” I told her, wondering when I’d turned into such a fucking masochist. “Where were you going?”
“Coeur d’Alene,” she replied, looking nervous as hell. “I don’t want to bother you. I can just wait here—”
“I don’t have time to fuck around. Just get in the truck,” I told her. She flinched at my tone. Watch your mouth, asshole. Wished she wouldn’t look at me like a goddamn ax murderer. Of course, that might not be entirely off base given my current mission—God only knew what Hayes needed from me . . . I frowned at the thought, and she made a startled little squeaking noise.
“Have I ever hurt you?” I asked her, abruptly. “Aside from that one night, have I ever done a goddamned thing to make you think I would even dream of hurting you?”
Becca shook her head quickly.
“No.”
“Then stop looking at me like I’m a serial killer and get in the fucking truck already. I really don’t have time for this and I can’t leave you here. Move your ass.”
Becca ducked into her car through the passenger-side door, flashing me a nice view of said ass in the process. Didn’t exactly help my mood. She dug around and came back out with a leather messenger bag. I watched as she locked up and then we climbed into my truck, doors slamming.
Becca looked even more scared than usual, which I guess made sense because I was being a dick—but that was only because she fucked Joe instead of me. If Joe was so great, why the hell wasn’t he rescuing her?
You’re a fucking idiot, asshole. You wanna sleep with her? Stop scaring her!
“So what’s in Coeur d’Alene?” I asked, pulling back out onto the road.
“I’ve got school there,” she replied. “But I think you should just drop me off at the gas station. I’m starting work tonight at the Moose, so I’m going to call in and let them know I can’t get into town today.”
“That gonna fuck things up for you?”
“It should be okay . . .” she said, her voice trailing off. I glanced over at her but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. God, that frustrated me. I bet she looked Collins in the eyes. Sure as hell wasn’t scared of Blake.
“I’ll give you a ride,” I decided. “Got shit to do in town, so I’ll bring you back out tonight, drop you at the Moose. You can catch a lift home afterward with your girl.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know I don’t need to do it,” I snapped, annoyed. Jesus, what was wrong with me? You’re jealous, dickwad . . . “But I’m going to, so just accept it and move on. You call Earl when we hit cell service. He’ll go out and pick up your car, tow it back to his shop. You need a ride tomorrow, I’ll take you where you need to go.”
Shit, at this rate, I’d be offering to run her out to Joe’s for a quickie after she got off shift. Silence fell as we drove, my fingers tapping on the steering wheel as she stared silently out the window. Ten minutes later we reached the Kingston junction and I pulled out onto the interstate.
“So how are you?” she finally asked, breaking the silence. “I haven’t seen you around for a while. Then yesterday I saw you twice.”
I heard her voice catch, and smiled cynically.
“Three times,” I reminded her.
“What?”
“You saw me three times. The diner, the bar, and through my window from the roof.”
She choked and I bit back a laugh. Thought she’d gotten away with that, did she?
“Okay, I saw you three times,” she admitted. “What were you doing in that apartment?”
“That seems a little obvious. Blow job,” I said, feeling a little better. Becca might be skittish, but she was still interested. Last night proved it. She coughed and I decided to show her some mercy. “I’m moving in. Got the keys yesterday—going to be back in town for a while, needed a place to stay. It’s cheap and convenient. That a problem for you?”
“No, of course not,” she said quickly. I glanced over at her, but she still wouldn’t look at me. Well, fuck . . . I needed to calm down, give the girl a break. She’d been the victim all those years ago, not me. Needed to start thinking with the big head.
“Seriously, if it’s going to be a problem, now’s the time to say something. Didn’t think too much of it—it’s a small town. Not a ton of places to rent and the price was right.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Good.”
Silence. Five minutes later she was still staring out the window. Now I couldn’t tell what the hell was going on. “I do something to piss you off?”
Becca shook her head, then she finally raised her eyes to mine.
“No,” she said.
“Then why won’t you look at me or talk to me?”
“I’m talking to you right now.”
“Don’t give me that—you’ve been doing your best to ignore me on the whole ride. If we’ve got an issue, let’s get it out there.”
“You made me lose my job,” she replied suddenly.
“McDougal was flipping you shit. I don’t care how big Blake is, he couldn’t take on that whole crew by himself. You lost your job because your boss is a bitch who blames other people for her own mistakes, the first of which was allowing an asshole like that inside in the first place.”
“You seriously believe that?”
“Yeah, I seriously fucking believe that. You’re better off without her, and you’ll make more money at the Moose anyway.”
“That’s the other reason I’m mad at you.”
“What?”
“The Moose! I don’t want to work there.”
“Because you’ll make more money? Gee, that’s truly a fate worse than death.”
“Don’t be like this,” she replied, her voice almost a sigh. “Let’s not play games, okay? We have history and that makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want you throwing it in my face.”
“You’re the one who spied on me in my own apartment, not the other way around, Becs. Like I said, you got a problem with me living there, now’s the time to speak out. Otherwise I’m moving past this.”
“Don’t call me Becs.”
“Why not, Becs?”
She glared at me, practically vibrated with frustration. Fair enough, because I was pretty frustrated myself. Not just about our verbal sparring, either. Hearing her pissed-off little voice made my dick harder, which shouldn’t have surprised me because everything about her made my dick harder. Now instead of focusing on what the Reapers might need from me, my mind was torn between two images. One was her naked, spread wide and screaming in pleasure while I pounded her.
The second was that exact same picture, only this time it was Collins fucking her.
I squeezed the steering wheel tighter, then shot her another look. Her fingers tapped against her thigh, full of suppressed energy. Guess Joey-boy wasn’t man enough to tire her out. The deep breaths she took made her tits rise and fall underneath a T-shirt thin enough to show the outlines of her nipples.
Little Becca was all kinds of bothered.
Goddamn, but I wanted to fuck her.
Right, like that was a surprise—I’d wanted to fuck her every minute of every day since that night five years ago. Hell, she’d wrapped herself around me all the way from Southern California to Callup, hands clutching at my stomach. The only time I’d lost my boner the whole trip was when the bike numbed me out, and even then I was still hard.
Just couldn’t feel it anymore.
“I want us to get along,” she said suddenly, eyes darting toward me. “I know it’s no secret I’m uncomfortable around you. But we live in the same town and it’s time to move forward with my life. Part of that is letting this go. Maybe we can be friends.”
Friends? Un-fucking-likely.
“And what do you mean by ‘friends’?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
“Well, you’re giving me a ride to school,” she replied. “That’s very . . . friendly . . . of you. We’re going to be neighbors now. Why can’t we just get along, you know? That seems less weird than what we are now.”
“What are we now?”
“Nothing,” she said, and my gut clenched. “We aren’t anything. But maybe we can be friends. We’re neighbors, so maybe we can act like neighbors. I can cook you dinner or something, thank you for fixing my car.”
That startled me, but I didn’t react. At least, not by saying anything. My dick was trying to punch its way through my pants, which wasn’t particularly helpful under the circumstances.
“You dating Collins?”
She shrugged.
“We went out last night. I’m probably going to see him again. Are you dating Carlie?”
I snorted.
“I don’t date.”
“Okay . . .”
Silence fell again, and this time I didn’t feel like breaking it. Not if she wanted to talk about Carlie—that wouldn’t end well for me. I sure as fuck didn’t want to talk about Collins. I reached over and turned on some music, catching the way she visibly relaxed out of the corner of my eyes. Funny, but despite the tension, having her in my truck like this felt good.
Half an hour later I dropped her off in front of her school, promising to come back and pick her up after five. Hopefully I’d be able to keep that promise, despite whatever shittastic job Picnic Hayes probably had waiting for me. Knowing my luck, it’d be a body to bury.
Guess I’d keep my fingers crossed that body would belong to Joe Collins. Unlikely, but a man can hope.
BECCA
When we hit cell service, my phone lit up with a missed call from my mom. Like always, her name sent a thrill of perverse hope through me. Maybe this time she was calling to say she’d done it—she’d actually left Teeny. For years now I’d been trying to convince her to walk out and come live with me. Twice she’d said she was doing it, then backed out at the last minute. This devastated me, which is hard to explain, given how terrible she was as a mother. Hell, as a person. But that’s the thing about parents—you love them despite everything, because they’re yours.
