by Lynne, Carol
“Sure.” Solo continued on toward the bathroom.
“You’ll need to take them with food. You take care of business while I make breakfast,” Blue suggested.
Solo stopped in the doorway to the bathroom. “You’re gonna cook?” Fuck. His own mother hadn’t cooked for him.
“Sure. If that’s okay?”
Solo thought about it for a moment, wondering what it would mean if he let Blue make him breakfast. “Ummm, yeah, guess so.” He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. As soon as he was alone, he relaxed and blew out a breath. It was just a moment, he tried to tell himself. The contentment he’d felt waking with Blue in his arms had to have something to do with the pain meds he’d taken the previous night. Had to be, right?
Staring at himself in the mirror, he scowled. “What the fuck’re you doing here?”
“Eggs fried or scrambled?” Blue asked from the hallway.
Solo glanced toward the closed door. “Either,” he replied. When he turned back to find a grinning man reflected in the mirror, he growled.
“Okay, I left a robe for you on the bed.”
Solo moved to the toilet and relieved himself, flushing before he’d finished peeing.
“I should go back to the bedroom, get my shit and get the hell out of here,” he said to the artfully arranged black and white framed photos above the commode. Who the fuck decorated a bathroom?
Blue. The answer came to him as quickly as the question popped into his head. He thought about Blue’s obvious desire to build a home for himself. How had two people with such similar backgrounds grown up to be so different? It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself the question, and as long as he hung around Blue, it wouldn’t be the last.
After looking around, he found a stack of plush washcloths in a small cabinet beside the shower. He stared at the slate-tiled shower and shook his head, wanting nothing more than to climb inside with a naked Blue in his arms. Unfortunately, it would be another day or two before he’d be able to handle the spray against his road rash.
Instead, he’d have to settle for a whore’s bath and brushing his teeth with his finger and borrowed toothpaste. By the time he felt somewhat human again, he decided to stay long enough to eat before heading back to the safety of his place.
* * * *
Eric was just about to call Solo when he heard shuffling footsteps working their way toward the kitchen. “Did you find the bathrobe I left for you?”
“Yeah,” Solo replied, appearing in the doorway. “Thanks.” He glanced down at the black satin robe. “Really?”
Eric shrugged as he set a bowl of scrambled eggs in the center of the table. “I wear it sometimes. Give it a while, and you’ll figure out why.” He returned to the stove and placed ten sausage links on a plate. “Orange juice or milk?”
“Whatever,” Solo grumbled, taking a seat at the table. “You didn’t need to do this.”
“I know.” Eric would have offered to make breakfast for anyone who’d spent the night, but for some reason, he wanted to cook for Solo. Normally, it was a sense of obligation that made Eric offer, but with Solo, it was the fact he wanted him to stay longer. He set a gallon of milk and a carton of orange juice on the table along with a carafe of coffee. “Do you take sugar in your coffee?”
“Goddamn, Blue, you’re not running a fucking restaurant here. Sit down and stop waiting on me. If I need sugar, I’ll fucking get up and get it myself.”
Solo’s use of the nickname was the only thing that kept Eric from getting angry. It was obvious Solo hurt, and equally obvious he wasn’t much of a morning person. With a resigned sigh, Eric sat to Solo’s left at the small square table. He placed the pain pills next to Solo’s plate. “If you want, I can help you wash your wounds and change the bandages.”
“Why would you do that?” Solo asked.
“Why do you keep asking me that?” Eric returned. “Haven’t you ever had someone care enough to do shit for you?”
The expression on Solo’s face nearly crushed Eric. “Not that kind of shit. Rowdy’s got my back when I’m riding and fighting, but no way in hell would he offer to wash my back.”
“His loss.” Actually, Eric was happy Rowdy didn’t take care of Solo the way he deserved to be taken care of. It was obvious from Solo’s reaction to the question that he hadn’t experienced a loving relationship of any kind. It was sad, but it made Eric more determined than ever to show Solo what he’d missed out on. He used his fingers to pick up a sausage link. “I ran that license plate.”
Solo dropped his fork. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot about it. Who’s it registered to?”
“Harold Sterling. Name sound familiar?” Eric asked.
“Yeah. You get an address?” Solo asked.
Eric contemplated the question while he bit into the sausage. If he gave Solo the information, he had no doubt Solo or Rowdy would try to go after the asshole. Shit. Not for the first time he wondered why the hell he’d agreed to work with the big biker. It was beyond stupid.
Eric had joined the police force in an effort to bring a sense of order and stability to his life. It had worked until he’d spotted a sexy-as-fuck wet dream sitting at the bar at Lucky’s. His gaze locked on the spider tattoo creeping its way up Solo’s neck. “Is our original deal still in place?”
“We have no deal when it comes to Harold. We agreed that when we found the man responsible for making that kid sick, I wouldn’t kill him.” Solo poured a glass of milk. “Now, do you have an address?”
Eric leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck!”
“Maybe later,” Solo mumbled around a bite of eggs. “For now, I just need the address.”
“I’ll give it to you tomorrow. I doubt Harold’s going anywhere between now and then. In the meantime, you stay here. I have to make an appearance at the station, and I’d still like to talk to some of the students at Truman, but that shouldn’t take more than a few hours. While I’m out, I’ll pick up some first aid supplies and something to make for dinner. You can spend the day sleeping, watching TV or whatever.”
“I’m not staying here,” Solo argued. “I’ve got my own damn house.”
“Yeah, and those wounds need to be washed and bandaged. Besides, you just took your meds, so you’re not fit to drive anywhere.”
“I could call Rowdy to pick me up,” Solo countered, a scowl on his handsome face.
“Do you really want him to know my address?” Eric asked. He wasn’t afraid of Rowdy, but things could get complicated if the Grave Diggers found out where he lived. “Listen, you can barely walk. There’s nothing you can do today, anyway. Be the tough guy tomorrow. Today, just relax, and let me take care of you.”
“Speaking of Rowdy, I need to call. There’s no doubt he’ll at least stop by my place to check on me.” Solo reached for a second helping of eggs and stole the last two sausage links.
“Want me to pick you up a prepaid phone while I’m out?” Eric asked. He’d do damn near anything to keep Solo put for the day. He couldn’t explain it, but he liked the way the other man looked in his house. The thought of spending time with Solo thrilled him.
“My wallet should be in my jeans. Grab whatever money you need,” Solo replied. He glanced around the kitchen. “You really like those black and white pictures. I saw some in your bathroom, too.”
“I took ‘em,” Eric confessed. “I can’t afford good artwork, so I decided I could do as good a job as some of those I see in Walmart and stuff.” Truth was, he’d really gotten into photography once he’d started. His camera wasn’t fancy, but he’d been saving up for a nice one. Most of his photographs were of scenery, but for the kitchen, he’d decided to go to an antique store and take pictures of old kitchen utensils. He wasn’t sure how they’d work at the time, but he loved them once they’d been framed and matted. That was something else he’d taught himself to do. The price custom shops charged for a cheap frame and a colored border of cardboard was ridiculous.
>
Solo nodded. “Nice. I like them.”
“Thanks.” Eric thought of the artwork Solo had on his bedroom walls. “I have a bunch I didn’t use. If you’re interested, I could give you some.”
Solo shrugged, but didn’t say no.
Progress, Eric supposed.
* * * *
After a short nap, Solo stretched out on the couch and used Blue’s house phone to call Rowdy.
“Yeah?” Rowdy answered.
“It’s me.” Solo crossed his ankles on the arm of the couch. “Checkin’ in.”
“I was getting ready to head over. You need anything?”
“No.” Solo had gone back and forth with himself on whether or not to tell Rowdy where he was. In the end, he’d decided it would be easier to tell the truth. “I’m at Blue’s.”
“Goddammit, Solo!” Rowdy exploded. “You gotta stop this shit before the club finds out. I can’t keep covering your ass, motherfucker.”
“Tell Switch I’m shacked up with someone licking my wounds. He’ll understand.” Solo knew Switch suspected he wasn’t into pussy, but he’d never come out and asked him about it, and Solo respected the man enough not to offer information that might make it uncomfortable between them.
“What about Roach?” Rowdy asked.
“What about him? Did you talk to him yesterday?” Solo moved and the slick satin of the robe brushed against his cock. Christ. He reached down and ran his bandaged palm across his dick. Blue hadn’t been kidding about the robe.
“He never came into the club. I was planning to go look for him when Switch got the call from the hospital,” Rowdy explained. “You want me to do that today or wait?”
Solo stared up at the ceiling. He could tell the pain meds were kicking in because he found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation. He rubbed his dick again, barely biting back a moan.
“You there?” Rowdy asked.
“Yeah. Wait.” Solo sighed. “I wanna look into Roach’s eyes when we talk to him.” After the information Blue had given him earlier, he no longer thought Roach was guilty of selling bad shit, but the fact he was selling shit at all needed to stop. “I’ll call ya tomorrow.”
“Don’t get too comfortable over there,” Rowdy warned. “I like having you at my back. It’d suck if Switch ordered me to take care of you.”
It was a very real possibility. If the club found out Solo was gay, he’d get jumped, and depending on how many brothers were against him, he could end up in the ICU. That was kid stuff compared to what would happen if they found out Solo was fucking a cop. “I hear you loud and clear.”
“Later,” Rowdy said before hanging up.
Yawning, Solo set the phone on the coffee table. He had an idea of where to find Easy Ed, but it would be at least a few days before he could lean on him. If he hadn’t made the deal with Blue, he’d have already found the fucker and plugged him between the eyes, but, no, he’d let his dick make the deal.
Solo shot to a sitting position when he heard footsteps on the front porch. His body rigid, he looked around for his knife. Fuck. It had to be in his jeans. The sound of a key fumbling in the lock put him at ease, and he exhaled. Sinking back onto the couch, he watched as a smiling Blue opened the door.
“Hey,” Solo greeted, trying to make his voice sound casual.
“How’re you doing?” Blue set down several plastic shopping bags before sitting on the coffee table next to Solo.
“Just woke up.” Solo nodded toward the phone. “I called Rowdy. Told him I was here.” He tried not to stare at Blue, but goddamn, the cop was fucking sexy. He reached out and rested his hand on Blue’s thigh. “Did you find anything out at the school?”
Blue shook his head. “There’s something going on, that’s for sure, but I couldn’t get anyone to talk.” He tapped his temple. “My spidey sense tells me the kid isn’t as innocent in what happened as he’s pretending. I think I’ll pay him another visit while he’s still in the hospital. Once they get him home, he’ll feel safer. Better to get him talking before that happens.”
Careful of the bandages, Solo rolled to his side and pressed against the back of the sofa, making room for Blue to join him. He didn’t try to analyze the desire to have Blue close; he just went with his gut.
With a wicked grin, Blue pulled off his shoes before stretching out on the deep leather couch. “This is the reason I bought this, so you know.” He leaned in and gifted Solo with a soft kiss.
Staring into those fucking blue eyes, Solo knew he could lose himself in the cop. There was an ease between them like he’d never felt before. “Tell me more about this spidey sense of yours?”
Blue rested his head on the stack of pillows he’d put down for Solo. “Well, from what I’ve been able to piece together, Andy is a privileged asshole with a huge chip on his shoulder. His friends won’t talk about him out of some misguided sense of loyalty, and his enemies seem afraid to talk.”
“You thinking this is more than a stupid kid buying a bad bag of weed?” Solo asked. He’d thought it strange when the victim refused to talk to the police, so it definitely made sense.
“Yeah,” Blue acknowledged. He brushed the back of his hand over the satin robe covering Solo’s cock. “I’m going to run into the station pretty soon and talk to my captain.”
Solo moaned as the slick fabric rubbed against his dick. “How soon?”
Blue grinned. “That depends on how sore you are.”
“Too sore to fuck you the way I want, but my dick wouldn’t mind a suck.” It was the truth. Solo would love to fuck the hell out of Blue but hated to do anything halfway. Maybe he was a pig because in his mind, the next best thing to fucking was getting his cock sucked.
Blue wrapped his hand around Solo’s cock, keeping the satin material between his palm and the sensitive skin of Solo’s hard shaft. It said a hell of a lot that Blue had the power to get Solo so hard even through the haze of pain medicine. “Why don’t we get you in a shallow warm bath first so I can wash your wounds? Once your bandages are changed, I’ll put you in bed, suck you dry then go talk to the captain.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of you,” Solo said. As much as he wanted a blowjob, it made sense to take care of his back and arms first because as drowsy as he was anyway, once he shot his seed down Blue’s throat, he’d be out for several hours.
Blue leaned in for another kiss, but Solo didn’t let him get away with a quick peck. With a groan, Solo parted Blue’s lips and thrust his tongue inside. He’d never been good with words, so he did his best to show Blue with a kiss how glad he was to have stumbled through his front door.
Throughout the day, Solo began to remember snippets of the previous night. Rowdy had taken him home from the hospital, had even helped him into bed, but the longer Solo laid there, the lonelier he felt. All he could think about was Blue and the need to be with him. There were still stretches of time he didn’t remember, the drive over to Blue’s being one of them, but he couldn’t shake the feeling, the undeniable need of another person. How had he let a cop get so far under his skin? He broke the kiss and stared into a pair of big blue eyes. The truth hit him like a fist. When he looked at Blue, he didn’t see a cop. “What do you see when you look at me?” he asked Blue.
Blue’s expression turned questioning. “What do you mean?”
Feeling stupid, Solo shook his head. “Never mind. Did you get me a phone?”
“Yeah, but I want to get back to that question.” Blue released Solo’s cock. “I’m guessing that the reason you’re asking is because you believe we’re so different.”
“We are,” Solo admitted.
“Why do you care so much about keeping drugs away from the schools?”
“Because my sister, Jessica, overdosed. She was only fifteen, and I was so busy causing and getting into trouble that I didn’t even know she was using.” Solo swallowed. “I wasn’t there to look out for her, so I’m making up for it by trying to keep someone else’s baby si
ster safe.” He broke eye contact. “Switch, the club’s Prez, was the one who told me she was dead. I’d just gotten out of county and was all kinds of fucked up. Switch found me, cleaned me up, and took me to the morgue to identify her body because my mom was too drunk.” When he felt the sting of tears, he cleared his throat. He wasn’t a fucking girl and refused to act like it. “After Jessica’s funeral, I walked away from my mom and moved into the club until I saved enough to buy the trailer.”
Blue gave Solo an understanding smile. “For me, it was a cop named Martin Lee who lived next door to the last foster family I was with. He had this gold nineteen seventy-two Mustang, you know, the ones with the wide strip of black running down the hood?” His smile grew wider. “Anyway, Mr. Lee used to bring that beautiful baby out of the garage every Saturday and wash it. The family I lived with didn’t give a shit about me, so I’d hang out with Mr. Lee. I suppose he’s the closest thing I have to a father. I’m sure if he’d have been an accountant, I’d have followed in his footsteps, but he was a cop.”
“Is he still alive?” Solo asked.
“Yeah. He’s retired from the force, but I meet him a couple times a month for lunch.” Blue rested his forehead against Solo’s. “I didn’t get a job at the police department because I had some grand plan of wiping out crime in the world. I went to the academy because Mr. Lee pulled some strings and got me in. You may not be able to see it, but I’m a hell of a lot more than my job.”
Solo did see it. Part of the problem was that he often forgot what Blue did for a living. He understood the point Blue was trying to make, but he wouldn’t let himself get sucked into a conversation about feelings. Hell, he’d only just discovered he had them. He decided to change the subject. “Where’d you take that picture?” He pointed to the large black and white photo over the sofa.
“Olympic National Forest in Washington.” Blue stared up at the photograph. “I went a few years ago. I was having a bad time, so I decided to get in my car and drive until I was surrounded by green.” He glanced at Solo. “Yeah, I found it before I reached the park, but the green pulled me in.” A wistful expression graced his handsome face. “I thought about coming home, selling everything and moving up there.”
