Beyond Reckless

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Really, they’ve been lucky we let them operate this long,” I say.

  Rock glances over. “Always figured there’s enough criminal pie to go around. And both those clubs dealt in stuff we didn’t want to touch, but I’m done fucking around with these sloppy motherfuckers.”

  “You want to look into pushing into Slater County?”

  We’re not a large organization, but we don’t need to be. By reputation alone, people know not to fuck with us. We’ve never had an issue dominating the areas we claim. Pushing the Wolf Knights out of Slater County could get bloody and I’m surprised Rock’s willing to go there.

  “Not yet,” he finally answers. “But if he’s bringing in an out-of-state club and stirring trouble for no reason, we’ll have to address it.”

  “I couldn’t get a read on what SOS was doing there. They were regular patch-holders, though. Not officers.”

  Rock nods. “That’s what Murphy said.”

  “One looked barely old enough to ride, let alone be in a club.”

  Rock slows the vehicle down as we approach the one-way street in downtown Ironworks where Loco runs his “escort” business.

  “Could be a one-off job he’s paying them to do.” Rock stops and maneuvers the truck into a spot in front of Loco’s brownstone. “Whatever it is, he better not be fucking with our shit. We need to make it clear Ironworks isn’t up for grabs.”

  Fantastic. One war ends and another one begins.

  One of Loco’s girls opens the door and leads us inside. No one would ever mistake this place for anything other than a whorehouse. Lacy curtains, hot pink couches, thick pink carpet, all soaked in gallons of expensive perfume.

  I glance at the girls hanging out in the living room as we walk past. At least Loco’s girls are happy, over eighteen, and here by choice. Nothing like the shit Mariella went through under the boots of the Vipers.

  And I know for a fact if anyone harms his girls, Loco handles it. Happy whores earn more money, is how he explains it to anyone who dares to call him soft. Then he probably fires a bullet into their leg.

  Rock stops and rolls his shoulders before going through the door the girl opens for us.

  “Loco,” she calls out. “They’re here.”

  He glances up and grins when he sees Rock. His smile falters when his gaze lands on me.

  “Thanks, Felicia.”

  When she doesn’t leave, he raises an eyebrow.

  “Uh, I need to leave early to—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Tell Jazz to watch the door.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Rock North,” Loco greets in a booming voice, holding his arms wide. “Thanks for coming down off the mountain.”

  I’m close enough to catch Rock counting to ten under his breath and almost laugh.

  Loco waves his hand at the door. “Never hire girls with kids, man. Always asking for time off. School plays, doctor appointments. Jesus Christ, it never ends.”

  This time I can’t stop myself from ducking my head and laughing.

  “You said you might know something about the theft at Crystal Ball,” Rock prompts, clearly uninterested in Loco’s management problems.

  “Yeah, yeah. I got a guy down on Third Street. Runs a pawn shop. He had some clowns bring a shitload of parts in.”

  “To a pawn shop?” I ask.

  “Right. He figured they had to be stolen and didn’t want any part of it, but he ain’t about calling the cops, you know? So he asked me and I immediately thought of your situation.”

  “Thank you,” Rock says because for once Loco dragging us down here might actually be useful.

  Loco hands over a piece of paper. “That’s the address. Place is Lucky Ducky Pawn.”

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  “My guy, Malik, runs it.” He slides his gaze to Rock. “He’s a stoic motherfucker so you’ll get along great. A lot like Wrath. He’s like the black Wrath!” Loco cracks up at his joke and even Rock chuckles. “Oh, man you should’ve brought him, Rock. Those two dudes in the same room would be funny as shit.”

  When he stops laughing, he elaborates. “I’m taking a page from you and hiring him as my enforcer.”

  Rock doesn’t bother explaining that Wrath is a brother, not an employee. “Yeah?”

  Loco nods and leans back on his desk. “Some of my girls wanna do outcalls, but it ain’t safe, you know? Can’t have some dude jumpin’ ’em or refusing to pay or whatever. So, I’m sending Malik along.”

  “Seems sensible,” Rock says.

  “Not to watch, you understand? Insurance. So the girls can explain, “see that big black dude? I don’t come out unharmed with a fist full of cash in one hour, he’s gonna fuck you up.”

  “I get it,” Rock says, clearly wanting to get out of here.

  Loco taps his desk and tips his head sideways. “I got more outcalls than Malik can handle. You think I could hire some of your boys as protection?”

  I know Rock well enough to know guarding hookers is the last thing he wants to do, so I’m curious how he’ll answer. “A few of our guys might be interested. I’ll bring it up at our next meeting.”

  Loco nods, but I don’t think that’s the answer he was hoping for. “I’ll let you two get going. If Malik gives you shit, tell him I sent you.”

  “Can’t wait,” Rock says with about the same enthusiasm as he used with the cop that pulled us over earlier. “Anything else?”

  “You got a shipment for me soon?”

  “I’m working on it. You go through the last one already?”

  “Yeah man. Weed trade is on fire.” He laughs again and I wonder how much of his inventory Loco’s been indulging in lately.

  “I’d offer you one of the girls, but you two are like fuckin’ monks,” Loco says, putting his arms around both our shoulders. Man, Loco’s living dangerously today. “You’re not even married, right?” he asks me.

  “I can find my own pussy, thanks.”

  Rock chuckles.

  Once we’re free from Loco’s clutches and in the truck, Rock’s rumbling laughter fills the interior. “Can’t wait to tell Wrath how much Loco missed him.”

  “At least he’s speaking to me again.”

  “Good, maybe I’ll start sending you to deal with him from now on.”

  I open my mouth to say ‘no thanks’ then remember what Wrath said about us stepping up more. “I will if you need me to.” I glance back at the house. “Who’s on your shortlist for the protection work?”

  “Why, you want the gig?”

  “Fuck no.”

  He puts the truck in gear. “You think Charlotte will be mad?”

  He’s testing me. We’re not supposed to let our women interfere with club business. “Don’t know. I’ll do it if the club needs me to.”

  “I know you will.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “We’re already supposed to be babysitting Sway’s porn star next month.”

  “Christ, that’s still happening?”

  “Apparently.”

  We pull up to the Lucky Ducky Pawn Shop, ending the discussion of the club’s new venture into the babysitting hookers and porn stars business.

  Ironworks is in the middle of a business revival. Third Street, in the heart of downtown, is an interesting mix of barber shops, trendy restaurants, and pawn shops. The Lucky Ducky stands out with a giant neon yellow duck in the window with the slogan “We Pay More” in blinding neon blue. The other window is filled up with more bright, blinking signs announcing, “We Pay More!”

  “Looks like we’re missing out on a prime business opportunity, Prez.”

  He snorts. “You want to spend your days sorting through people’s trash because I sure don’t.”

  The guy behind the counter’s busy reading but stands when we enter. As promised, he’s a big dude. Easily Wrath’s size with dreadlocks that fall to his waist.

  “Can I help you?” he asks in a voice that sounds more like “get the fuck out of my shop.”

  “Loco s
ent us.”

  You’d think the guy would ease up, but he doesn’t. He eyes our patches and sneers. “How can I help you, Bubba?”

  Rock gives me a sideways glance. “It’s Rock.” He holds his hand out and the guy reluctantly takes it.

  “Malik.” He turns to me and lifts an eyebrow. “Bubba number two.”

  “Teller,” I introduce myself.

  “Loco said you had someone bring in parts?” Rock prompts.

  “Yeah. Two dudes. Looked like typical college-boy frat-bros.”

  “Not bikers?” Rock asks.

  “Sincerely doubt it.”

  That’s disappointing. Although, I guess college kids being stupid is better than another club encroaching on our territory.

  “You get their names?”

  “No, but I got a number.” He hands it over and Rock stuffs it in his pocket. “I’ll let Z deal with that.” He holds out his hand to Malik. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “Tell me, Prez.” Malik crosses his tree-trunk size arms over his chest. “Your club got any folks of color?”

  A slow smile spreads over Rock’s face because I’m pretty sure he’d been expecting this. “Actually, yes.”

  Malik raises an eyebrow and I understand why. But Rock judges people based on a number of things and skin color has never been one of them. He dislikes everyone equally. Just like the rest of us.

  “You ride?” Rock asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Only thing I’m concerned with is your loyalty and how hard of a worker you are. Rest doesn’t mean shit.” He pulls out a card and tosses it on the counter. “If you’re serious and not dicking me around, stop over at Crystal Ball and talk to Z. Two years of prospecting and even then it’s not a guarantee you’ll get voted in.”

  “Yeah? Any white boys not make the cut?”

  Rock jerks his thumb in my direction. “His sister’s boyfriend.” Sure, Murphy had personal reasons for voting Axel down, but it’s true.

  The rest of Malik’s hostility seems to evaporate. “Loco’s got a high opinion of you.” He twirls a finger near his head. “But dude is crazy.”

  “We’ve been doing business together for a long time.”

  They talk a little longer about the pawn shop and the revitalization of downtown Ironworks. A name catches my eye outside. Tiny hole-in-the wall restaurant. Nibbles. I’m pretty sure it’s the place Charlotte sent me a picture from.

  Rock and Malik wrap up their conversation and this time Malik extends his hand to both of us.

  Outside, I snap a picture of the restaurant and send it to Charlotte.

  Thinking of you.

  Rock tilts his head. “Going into the donut business?”

  Heat creeps up my neck. “Uh, Charlotte likes this place,” I explain.

  One corner of his mouth curls up but he doesn’t ask any follow-up questions.

  Back in the truck, Rock shakes his head. “Jesus. Just what I need, two Wraths.”

  “Ready to get on the road and away from club stuff for a few days, Prez?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  “Hope excited about the trip?”

  The corners of his mouth curve up in the same soft smile he reserves for Hope. “Think so.”

  My phone shakes to life in my hand and I check the message.

  “Everything all right?” Rock asks.

  “Mariella’s headstone was finished.” I swallow hard before continuing.

  “I’m sorry,” Rock says.

  “I hate asking, but do you mind if we stop at the cemetery on our way back?”

  “Of course not.”

  We’re quiet on the drive. Unfortunately, Rock knows the way to the cemetery well.

  Before the final turn, he stops at a small store. A few minutes later, he emerges with two bouquets of roses. He hands them to me without explanation.

  A few miles later, he expertly guides the truck to the row where Mariella rests, even though as far as I know, he’s only been here once before. “Too many of our people here,” he says as if he’d read my mind and I’m glad he considers Mariella one of us. She would’ve liked that.

  He takes the yellow roses from me and silently we walk together to Mariella’s headstone.

  “Do you want a few minutes alone?” Rock asks once we’ve spent a respectable amount of time.

  “No. I’m okay.” I set the flowers down and rest my hand against the stone for a second before following Rock.

  We don’t head toward his cage though. Rock meanders through the rows of headstones toward the older part of the cemetery. Curious about who he wants to visit, but not wanting to bother him, I remain silent at his side.

  A few minutes later, I have my answer.

  GRACE REGINA NORTH

  Beloved mother and wife.

  “She was really young,” I comment after a quick mental calculation.

  Rock nods, but keeps staring at the stone. Eventually, he leans over and places the roses at the base. “Yellow roses were her favorite. I did my damndest on her birthday to find them for her.”

  Doesn’t surprise me that he would’ve done something like that as a kid for the mother who meant everything to him. That’s the kind of man Rock is now. The kind he’s been trying to teach me to be since I was twelve.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Eager to get home because I know Marcel’s waiting for me, I’m irritated to find a delivery truck parked in front of my place. As I’m about to drive around the block and look for something else, two guys in gray come out of my building. Marcel follows them down the front stairs, slaps a few dollar bills into one of the guy’s hands before they climb into the truck.

  Intrigued, I hurry to slip my car into the spot they vacate.

  Marcel swaggers over when I turn my car off and opens my door. “Hey, Sunshine.”

  “What were those guys doing?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He takes my briefcase from me and captures my hand in his.

  “What did you do?” I ask as we step into my apartment. Nothing seems amiss in the living room. I drop my purse on the couch and continue down the hallway.

  Then stop dead in my tracks at my bedroom door.

  “You bought me a bed?” I’m rooted to that spot, mouth hanging open staring at the monster-sized bed taking up more than half my bedroom. It’s too nice to belong in my apartment. “You threw my old bed away? What if it had sentimental value?” I tease to cover up my surprise.

  “It had dust bunnies.” He cocks his head. “You really don’t like it?”

  No, I don’t want him thinking that at all. “I love it. I’m surprised. That’s all.”

  He lifts one shoulder. “I don’t have a key to give you, so I bought you a bed.”

  “Flowers would’ve worked too.”

  “This will last longer.” Jerking his chin toward the bed, he invites me to examine it a closer. “See the padded headboard and sturdy wood construction.” He leans down, brushing his lips against my ear. “So I can fuck you as hard as I want without your neighbors yelling at us.”

  “Oh.” Desire swirls through me. Everything this man does. Everything he says is just so damn perfect.

  Crude, but somehow still perfect.

  His arms slip around my waist, and he presses himself against my back. “Gonna tie you to that headboard too.”

  I shake my head, unsure of whether I’d enjoy that. “I prefer your hands keeping me in place.”

  He growls next to my ear. “I like that.”

  Someone rings my doorbell, pulling us apart.

  “Fuck,” Marcel mutters, following me to the living room.

  It’s one of the delivery guys. “Forgot to have you sign this,” he says, thrusting a paper at Marcel.

  He signs the form and slams the door shut. “Where were we?”

  “Can we talk for a minute?”

  I pull back, studying her face. “I thought we were doing something else.”

  She huffs out an annoyed breath and presses her hand again
st my chest, pushing me backward.

  She can’t seriously be pissed about the bed. Can she?

  Whatever’s on her mind, she wants to discuss in the living room.

  That’s okay because after she pushes me onto the couch, she straddles my lap.

  “This works too,” I say, running my hands up under her dress and settling them on her ass. She shifts, spreading her legs wider. Even through my jeans, my dick responds to her heat.

  She loops her arms loosely around my neck. “I’m serious here.”

  I glance down where our bodies are touching. “Grinding your pussy against my dick kind of negates a serious conversation.”

  Judging by the impatient look on her face she’s not amused.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I visited my doctor last week.”

  “Are you okay?”

  A slight smile tips the corners of her mouth up. “Yes. It was the lady bits doc.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  “I wanted to go back on the pill. And have some tests…” All the brave sort of drains out of her and her cheeks turn pink.

  It finally seeps into my thick brain where she’s going with this and my dick—who had already been excited about Charlotte in my lap, is ready to punch through my jeans.

  My fingers trace over her collarbone and down the front of her dress. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “Could you go…”

  As her voice trails off, my mouth twists into a wry smile. “Don’t need to.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I had a bunch of tests when I was in the hospital.”

  Her head tilt’s cute as fuck.

  “Uh, that was quite a few months ago, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  I’m probably being a dick, but I find her discomfort amusing. Instead of straight up asking how many women I’ve fucked, she blushes and stutters. It’s damn cute coming from a woman who makes her living using words as a weapon.

  “You really haven’t been with—?”