When Opposites Collide Boxset

by Kathy Coopmans

  She may be a pain in the ass, but everything else about her makes up for it.

  That’s why I’m taking this job. As sick as it sounds, I need to put a bullet through someone’s head. It isn’t just any someone, either. It’s the man responsible for setting fire to Curtis’s warehouse several months ago. The piece of shit who crossed territory lines in hopes of shaking the club around.

  Shit don’t work that way. Not in my life and not with my friend.

  “Fuck,” I holler, shove a couple pairs of jeans in my bag, and zip it up. I hesitate outside of her door. My hands are itching to touch her, to apologize for real. I’ve never begged a woman to listen to me in my life. They usually beg, they always submit, but fuck all if I know what the hell do to with this one. I know I want her, and the crazy notion I strummed up in my head that she would be a distraction when I’m gone is something I’m about to find out.

  “I’m leaving for a week, maybe two. Brick and Snake are here. They have strict instructions not to take you anywhere. Don’t try to fuck with them while I’m gone, or you’ll wish to God you listened to me. There’s a phone on the kitchen counter. You need anything, call Curtis; he’ll get in touch with me.” I wait by the door for her to respond, knowing she won’t but wishing like hell she would open this door. To have her tell me good-bye.

  Not even the sound of movement comes from the bedroom. The guilt of holding her like a prisoner threatens to strike, but I brush that shit away. I’m keeping her safe, and she’s keeping herself safe from me. It’s all working like a strategic plan, if only my fucking mind would shut off.

  “Don’t let her try to talk you into anything, you get me?” I tell the guys, walk out my door, and light up a smoke. I know she’s safe here.

  The open road does more to calm my racing thoughts than anything else I’ve found in life. Today is no exception. I should be higher than a fucking kite right now with the assignment ahead of me. Protecting those I care for and avenging payback is my life, but as the miles tick by, I can’t fight off the hollow feeling inside me.

  It’s well past dark when I pull into the dive of a motel on the outskirts of this shithole little podunk town. I have to give it to Antonio Santos for running his drugs out of this place. The sheriff probably doesn’t even give a shit, since it’s beyond run down with its boarded-up buildings. Drug dealers on corners and kids too young to be hanging out this late at night. Stupid-ass parents.

  The overweight man checking me in couldn’t care less my pistol is holstered in the waistband of my jeans, clear for the world to see. The pungent, musty smell is enough to knock a man down to his knees in this place.

  “Room seven. Free coffee and donuts in the morning. Enjoy your stay.” He tosses the keys across the counter as the overhead light flickers, threatening to give out.

  I don’t offer a thank you or a nod before turning to the door. When I step out into the crisp night air, the smell of the town assaults me with its sick smell. It’s a true shithole, armpit town. Glancing down the sidewalk, I spot the door to room number seven with cracked paint and all. For Christ’s sakes. Maybe I should burn this place down. Burn the entire town.

  After pulling my car back into the lot, tucking it away in a deep, dark corner, I light up and toss my bag over my shoulder, thankful I threw a couple bottles of Jack in. The rush from a whole pack of cigarettes ain’t going to do shit for my nerves tonight. Should have brought some weed to go with my Jack.

  The fucking motel room opens without the key. Fucking nice. I’m greeted by a stale smell that will be my home over the next few weeks while tracking Antonio. I throw my duffle on the bed and stand on the sidewalk, inhaling and then watching the smoke float into the air.

  My mind drifts to her. It’s fucked up. I don’t deserve a woman like her. A man with my track record could never settle down with one woman. No fucking way a pussy could be that sweet that I’d settle for keeping my dick in my pants. I need to shut that notion away for good. Focus on getting her life back for her and getting her the fuck out of my house.

  I grab the burner from deep in my jean pocket and dial Brick. He picks up on the second ring.

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s it on your end?”

  “Fucking boring.”

  “Good.” I pause for a beat, knowing better but asking anyway. “She come out of her room?”

  “As soon as your engine fired up. She’s making Snake watch some shit show on the tube.”

  A dagger straight to my beating heart. Fuck her.

  “Sounds good. Keep your head on and stay alert.” I end the call before he has a chance to respond.

  The door next to mine bursts open with two blond tramps stumbling out of it in a fit of giggles. Total opposites of the woman invading my every thought. The perfect motherfucking distraction. They fall silent when they see me towering over them. Their fake, big tits on full display. The one on the right is the first to speak up when she catches me staring at her cleavage. Never was a man for a fake pair. Maybe it’s because I’ve rarely held a real pair of tits in my hand. Gotta do what I gotta do.

  “Oh, sorry, didn’t know we had a neighbor.” She twirls her blond hair around her index finger.

  “No worries,” I growl while continuing to eye them up and down.

  “We’re just here for the night,” she offers. Liar.

  Her friend picks up on the hidden message behind those words, perking right up.

  “Traveling across the country, looking for a good time.” Her friend finally finds her voice.

  Chick one slaps her friend on the forearm. “Daisha, we’re heading to Oklahoma for college.”

  “In the middle of the year?” I ask. Brow quirked up. These bitches are here for drugs, and they just happened to come across me. Why people have to lie beats the fuck outta me.

  They both reply in unison. “We like adventure.” I bet they fucking do. I’m about to give them one they can take to their so-called college.

  Caitlin’s smiling face flashes before me. Fuck it! She’s not willing to forgive me when I truly had nothing to ask forgiveness for, then there ain’t a damn thing wrong with having a bit of fun. We aren’t committed to each other, and after this charade is over, she’ll be gone. There’s not one Goddamn reason for me to be tied up in knots over her. I promised her one thing: safety. I’m a motherfucking fool, and I know it. Ain’t going to stop me.

  The thought of one blond bitch riding my cock while the other rides my face makes me feel like the real Katch. I reach down and grab my hardening dick through my jeans.

  “Girls, I’m all about adventure.”

  I enjoy their giggles and gasps as they step closer to me. I reach out and grab one of them by the arm, tugging her to me. Her fake tits colliding with my chest. I use my other hand to flick open the button on my jeans, unzipping them in one swift glide. I guide her tiny hand down to my dick until she’s cupping it.

  “You down?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  She silently nods. I grab the other one, pulling her into me, attacking her lips. Sweet cherry. Two dumb girls in town for the night and my hard cock. Sounds like the perfect plan to me.

  I guide them back into my room and then kick the door shut. There’s just enough outside light shining through the thick, dusty curtains to have some real fun. I push bitch number one down to her knees, grab my wallet, and pull out a condom. “Cover it,” I demand. Once she does, I guide my dick into her mouth. My hand snakes down bitch number two’s shorts until I’m gliding through her wet folds while kissing the fuck out of her.

  Hope Hollywood enjoys her time with Snake, because the real fucking Katch Sterling is back and alive. The motherfucking king.

  Nothing like going after a target with a raw dick. Those bitches may have looked and sounded dumb, but they fucked like porn stars. It’s just what I needed to ease the battle in my mind. Now, nothing like a kill for the cherry on top.

  The putrid smell of the alleyway is enough to make any person sick but
only fuels my drive. I’ve been tracking these fuckers and know their routine. They hit this bar every night for fun and drinks. Tonight, they won’t be expecting the little gift they’re about to receive when they exit.

  Antonio will have two of his guys with him. If they get in the way, it’s considered collateral damage. Curtis won’t mind; in fact, he’ll probably give me extra cash for making the fuckers pay. I need blood.

  I run my palm down the cool surface of my only and favorite sniper rifle. I focus in on the silencer on the end and count down the seconds before the men walk out of the back door. The front of my body lies in the slope of the alley. The filth pumping my adrenaline.

  The door finally swings open, followed by the cunt’s laughter. Antonio knows it’s coming. They all do. It’s a sixth sense. He glances down the alleyway, knowing I’m there but not being able to see me. A smile grows on my face, my finger hugging the trigger, but I wait until the fat fuck faces me. When I have the opportunity, I squeeze off the bullet. It strikes right between his eyes. It takes him seconds to fall while the blood dribbles from the entrance wound.

  As expected, his men go on guard, pulling their guns from their waistbands. I let them enjoy their few seconds of life before squeezing two more shots off. The first one takes it right between the eyes like his boss. The second one, I have a bit of fun with, because I need the fucking release. I shoot him in the kneecap. He’s a tough fucker, not going down.

  He’s gaining ground knowing which direction the bullets are coming from. The next bullet goes into his gut, slowing him down. The final one right between his eyes. The metallic smell of blood draining from still warm bodies calms me just enough to deal with the shit that waits for me at home.

  9

  Caitlin

  “How the hell you drink this shit is beyond me.” I spit the whiskey back into my glass. I’m out of wine, and I really need to get drunk. Like shitfaced drunk.

  “You got a lot of room to talk, sugar. That wine you drink costs ninety bucks a bottle and tastes like vinegar and smells like an old, musty basement. This stuff right here, fifteen bucks and tastes sweeter than most pussies, and it puts hair on your chest.” Brick lifts his bottle of Wild Turkey to his lips and takes a swig.

  “That is nasty talk, Brick. And why would I want hair on my chest when Rachel and I waxed our”—I point down to my pussy, because one thing I’ve learned about dear old Brick is, he may be a giant teddy bear, but he has no filter when he starts talking about women.

  The minute I heard Katch’s car start up, I left the confines of that room. A woman can only watch lifetime television for so long without losing her mind.

  While Snake pretty much kept to himself, his watchdog duties on high-alert, I’ve been chilling with Brick here. He’s quickly become a great friend. We’ve watched all the seasons of True Blood—the ending downright pissed me off—several seasons of Friends, and now we’re in the second season of House of Cards, which I threw a fit for all of five seconds about, then decided I would shut my mouth and enjoy the downtime with my new friend. Relax and have a good time. Because we all know Caitlin Winslow never relaxes and her idea of a good time is hitting the L.A. nightlife in a slinky black dress and stilettos. Bare feet, flip-flops, and tennis shoes are much more comfortable.

  Rachel’s stopped over a few times since fuckface has been gone. She colored my hair, waxed my crotch, my brows, and listened to me bitch. She did a wonderful job, which cost less than ten bucks for medium-brown highlights versus the four hundred I pay to keep the gray hairs away and twenty bucks to get rid of all that nasty stubbly hair down there. I waxed her as well. She screamed bloody murder, but Curtis will appreciate her without the stubbles from shaving. Nothing screams a brand new woman like a bald beaver. She refused the money, but I insisted. Shit, the best cash I spent. And who knows if I’ll ever get out of here to spend all the money I have. One thing I won’t do again is waste it on some fancy salon.

  Of course, it’s not as if anyone is going to notice the change in my hair color but for me, or get close enough between my thighs. But whatever. It’s something I’m accustomed to. We had fun, too. The most fun I’ve had in a long time. Now, I’m not sure when I’ll see her again as the girls started some soccer program for the summer to keep them busy now that school just let out. I’m still in awe of the wild club life she lives, yet lives a normal one as well.

  “Don’t go all soft on me now, girl. Drink that shit. You lost,” Brick says, all smug and laughing.

  “I lost because you cheated. I bet you have my winning card up your sleeve.” I lunge at his arm with all my strength to see if he tucked the missing ace in the pocket of his cut—I’m getting stronger by the day thanks to the kick-ass gym in this mansion of a house—when a loud familiar voice calls out behind us. I halt, look down to where I’m straddling him, and bust out laughing. Brick, on the other hand, doesn’t find it funny at all, and neither does fuckface Katch.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” he barks out as if he can. I guess he can, since it’s his house and all. Oh, and the fact he doesn’t owe me shit. Fucker.

  “Nothing. This crazy bitch of yours lunged at my ass.”

  “I’m not his. Never will be, Brick. Now, give me the card, and I’ll get off,” I tease, wrinkle my nose, and whisper, “Traitor.”

  “You’ll get your ass off him now, or I’ll drag you off him.” I want to tell him if he touches me, then I will gut him, but I don’t.

  I roll my eyes, hop off, and toss my shot of whiskey back. Things were so much better when he was gone. I’ve hardly thought about him at all. That’s a lie. The biggest one to date.

  “See you around, chicken shit.” I toss my hair, the smell of apples assaulting my nose. I’ve come so far these past two weeks without Katch being here that it’s a miracle I’ve stayed. I’m stronger in my head, my body, and I will not let him get to me anymore. I grab my half bottle of some cheap wine that Rachel brought over and waltz right past him into my room, slamming the door and locking it behind me. I have nothing to say to him.

  “Hey,” I say into this cheap burner phone I can barely hear out of.

  “What’s up, cuz?”

  “He’s back. I told you I wasn’t staying here once he returned. Please come and get me. I can’t be here, and you know why.” A garbled grunt comes through the other end. “Curtis.”

  “Listen. I know he’s back, and now that he is, we can get to the bottom of who destroyed your house. You're staying there, and that’s the end of it.”

  I collapse back on the bed, the anger and the quiet whirling all around me. I’m fighting hard with my inner self to not throw a tantrum and demand him to come and get me.

  “I take it the cops still haven’t done a damn thing?”

  With everything I have in me, I suffocate my desire to cry. He doesn’t have to answer me; his silence speaks for itself. Curtis seems to think there’s a cop involved. He has his resources on trying to find out who.

  “Alright, Curtis, I trust you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I say. I toss the phone on the end of the bed. I don’t want to be in this room, in this house, alone with him.

  “Shit,” I whisper to the empty room, then stand up and decide to take a shower in hopes it will relax me.

  “Damn it,” I mutter. Everything’s in his bathroom. Couldn’t deny the luxury of his big walk-in shower with the rain showerhead and the jets from every angle. It took me a day or two after Katch left to realize how amazing his place is. I definitely wouldn’t have pegged him to have this kind of house. Maybe it’s all a part of the mystery behind the man?

  I unlock the door, tiptoe across the hall, and I know the minute I enter his room he’s in there. The water is running; steam is building and billowing out of the bathroom. I can’t stop myself; I have to see. The thought of him naked and only several feet away from me churns a desire of both need and want inside of me. No matter how hard I’ve fought blocking him out...it’s still there.

  “Ca
itlin,” his deep voice rumbles.

  He says my name. My name! Not Hollywood. He’s getting over me.

  Oh, God.

  I can’t move from my spot in the doorway.

  I have never seen a more good-looking man in all my life. His body is perfected in art. Dark-tatted sleeves down his muscular arms. An eagle I didn’t notice the only other time I saw him shirtless spreads across his chest. The wings span wide, covering the width of it. The feathers appear to be three-dimensional, fighting to fly from him. Ironic.

  God, I want to lick the drops of water that caress his nipples, drip down his abs, and land to where he is stroking his thick, angry cock. I can’t move. I’m caught up in every stroke he makes. I see his free hand hit the wall; his chest is moving up and down. And I’m fighting a losing battle. I want him.

  I want to see the look on his face and keep watching him thrust his dick in his big hand. I want to strip out of my clothes and fall to my knees, taking him in my mouth while my hand plays with my clit as I relish in getting both of us off. A thirst like no other that demands to be quenched with his hot release.

  A soft whimper escapes me, but it’s just loud enough for Katch to turn that perfect face toward me.

  “Eyes up here.”

  I shake my head from side to side, letting my long hair curtain the embarrassment flowing off me.

  “Goddamn it, you are as stubborn as a fucking mule. Do you know I’m thinking about you right now while I stroke my dick?”

  I peer up long enough to see his knuckles go white around his dick.

  “Wanting you and knowing I have no right to. I can’t help myself when it comes to you. You fucking do something to me, and for the first time in my life, I’m scared.” He’s scared?

  I swallow and jump when he slaps the shower wall with his free hand.

  “Scared of a woman who drives me out of my fucking mind so bad that all I want to do is plow my cock into her because, baby, I ain’t fucking bullshitting you. I can’t stay away.”