“Correction. You like men who are prettier than you.”
“No comment.”
“Okay, change of subject,” I said with a chuckle, setting my coffee down. “What am I doing to you today?”
As Parker gave me in-depth instructions on how she wanted her hair cut and dried, I allowed part of my mind to imagine Alamo primed and ready for me. God, that would be amazing.
* * *
Alamo
Fuck me, this woman was gonna be a challenge. I was still tryin’ to figure out if the challenge would be worth it as I walked into her fancy-ass salon, but then I saw her, and all those questions were forgotten. Jasmine Buckley was a fuckin’ knockout. She was tall and curvy, had big blue eyes, and the most glorious red hair I’d ever seen. All I wanted to do was wrap it around my hand and fuck her ’til she screamed... this thought made it difficult to focus, but it was no less the truth.
I’d first noticed her at Willow’s dad’s funeral. I doubt she saw me, but I clocked her the second she walked in. She was playin’ referee with Willow’s ex-douche of a fiancé and she was takin’ her role seriously. She wouldn’t let him anywhere near Willow, and since Brad Aljets was a total asshole, I was ready to jump in if he got nasty with her, but it hadn’t been necessary. She “handled” him perfectly.
When she walked into a pig roast with her friend a few weeks after the funeral, I knew I needed to get a little information about her... and endear myself to her friend in order to figure out my next move. I knew she was twenty-seven, owned a couple of businesses, and came from money. What I was intrigued by, was she didn’t seem to care about status. She didn’t wear designer shoes or carry thousand-dollar handbags, she was as down to earth as they came. All of this was confirmed by Parker. She’d promised she’d smooth the way for me with Jasmine, but apparently, it didn’t work.
Jasmine had cut my hair and refused my money, which pissed me off. I didn’t ask for shit I couldn’t afford, but then she’d called me ‘Mo,’ and I’d had to stop myself from kissing her stupid right then and there. The problem was, I could never get a good read on what she was thinking, and unfortunately, I’d flunked out of mindreading school.
The shit truth was, Jasmine didn’t seem interested, even though I know Parker approved of me (and Willow adored me), so now I planned to back off. If Jasmine wanted me, she’d have to give me some indication. I didn’t chase anyone I couldn’t catch.
I shook off my thoughts and headed to the compound. We were in the middle of opening a few night clubs, as well as rebuilding one that had been burned to the ground by some folks who wanted to fuck with the Dogs.
I took the long route to give myself some extra time to recalibrate. There was an older stretch of the highway that lead to Fredricks Mill Rd., and eventually to a network of semi-paved service roads. One of these roads ended about a quarter mile from the Dog’s compound, and even though the road was rough as shit at times, I loved to ride it when I had the time. Today, I was making the time. I had to make sure my focus was strictly on club life when I rolled through the compound gates. I took my role as Sergeant at Arms very seriously, and after the shit we’d just gone through, I had to show my club that I was in top fuckin’ form. I knew that we had a lot of shit to go over, and the guys would be buttoned up, and ready for business when I rolled in. When I arrived, I parked my bike around back, and inspected it for any damage that may have occurred from rocks or debris on the service road.
As I was looking, I heard a loud voice yell out from inside, followed by a crashing sound. I drew my gun, and quietly slipped in through the rear entrance. I crept down the long hallway towards the main hall, and could hear the sounds of a struggle. Had someone breached the compound? I quickened my pace, remaining careful not to make a sound. I crouched at the door and listened, waiting for my moment to move in.
“I swear to God, I’ll let him kill you!” a voice said to a muffled response. “Okay, I guess I’m just gonna have to choke you to death.”
Hearing that, I raised my gun, kicked the door in, and charged into the great room, only to see one of our newest recruits, Shadow, sprawled out on the ground, being held in some sort of half-assed Jiu Jitsu hold by Badger. Dash, whose leg was still in an air-cast after surgery due to his accident, was standing over Shadow with his cane raised in the air. All eyes were currently pegged on me, the only one in the room currently holding a gun.
Doc, Gator, and Milky were sitting together, opposite a large folding table that had clearly been snapped in half. Rather than acting like officers and discouraging whatever the fuck was going on here, each of them sat relaxed, beer in hand. Not even my dramatic, completely unnecessary, entrance seemed to phase them at all. That was until they started laughing.
“Fuck you, guys,” I snapped. “What the hell is going on here?” I holstered my weapon while Shadow freed himself from Badger’s hold, and scrambled to his feet.
“We were teaching young Shadow here a lesson,” Dash said.
“Tell me, Professor, which class of yours did I walk in on? Dumb-ass 101 or Grab-ass 201?”
Another round of laughter from the President and my fellow officers, Statler, Waldorf, and Statler, Jr.
“And what the fuck are you three doing?” I asked.
“What does it look like, Alamo? We’re drinking beer and watching Badger and Dash pummel the shit out of young Shadow.”
I turned to Shadow. “Do I even want to know why the fuck you’re gettin’ pummeled?”
“Careful now, Cleveland, don’t make things worse for yourself,” Dash called out.
“Alright, Dash, seriously what the fuck is goin’ on here?”
“Shadow’s only been in the land of peaches and honey for a short period of time, and it seems he’s not quite ready to give up the Philistine ways of his homeland just yet.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, he thought it would be kosher to bring the filthy mojo of his hometown team into this house, so we were in the process of re-educating the boy.”
I shook my head. “Aw, shit, Dash, leave the kid alone.”
“He’s a fucking Browns fan, Alamo! The fucking Browns!” Dash shouted.
He then spun around and addressed the room, his cane held high. “Are we gonna let this filthy Clevelandite sully this holy temple? This immortal shrine to the Falcons? I say nay brothers! Are we gonna let the horrific record of Cleveland skid marks contaminate that of our beloved team? I say nay, now what say you?”
The room made their unanimous decision known. The infidel was to verbally renounce his love for the Browns, and henceforth fly the flag of the red and black.
Since I could see he had no representation in this matter, I took it upon myself to act as the boy’s council. My opening statements were brief, yet eloquent. “Y’all are a bunch of fuckin’ idiots, who should have been sold off as medical experiments a long time ago,” I said, before turning to Doc, Gator, and Milky. “And you three should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“Oh, we are, but not for this,” Gator said, to howls of laughter.
“Gentlemen, the kid may have the misfortune of coming from a place with a shitty football team, but he took a beating rather than turn on them, so he’s alright by me. Besides, you’re all wrong. The Cowboys will always be the greatest team in the NFL.”
With that, young Shadow and I were assaulted with a barrage of boos and empty beer cans, but we stood proud.
“Dash, you and Badger clean this shit up,” I said. “The meeting starts in five minutes, and by the way, you owe me a new fuckin’ table.”
I headed into the conference room, unable to keep my grin to myself.
Jasmine
Two weeks later, I walked into Daily Grind, my local coffee shop, and ordered a latte and a muffin (plus a treat for my client). I had a little time before my first appointment and had decided to indulge myself. It was raining (which I loved), and I was cold (which I also loved), because it gave me the excuse to buy a warm fancy coffee with a g
azillion calories.
As I waited for my order, I thought back to my conversation with Parker. At this point, I was pretty sure she was insane, because I hadn’t seen Alamo since his haircut, which was an obvious sign he wasn’t interested in me. If he really was grilling Parker for information, I would have thought he’d have come back to the salon, or something... find any excuse to see me, but he hadn’t. Alamo had become a ghost.
So, today, I chose to eat my feelings. I wasn’t so naïve as to think this wasn’t what I was doing. I typically didn’t eat much for breakfast, so I recognized that I was about to consume a muffin the size of my head in an obvious attempt to soothe my hurt... or libido. Both of them needed a little TLC, but I couldn’t very well whip my vibrator out in public, so socially acceptable breakfast cake it was.
Once my name was called, I grabbed my purchases and headed for the side door, finding it opened at the same time as I went to push on it, so I looked up to gauge whether or not I should wait... and nearly dropped my coffee.
“Hey, Firefly.”
“What... um... hi,” I manage to stutter out.
He grinned (still holding the door). “I come here every morning.”
I stepped outside, and he let the door close, guiding me under the awning, out of the rain. “You do?”
“Pretty much every morning I work this side of town. The shop’s right around the corner.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.”
Alamo was a mechanic. I think. He also worked for BMW or something like that. I wasn’t sure. I drove a Mercedes, so it’s not like I’d run into him accidentally or anything.
“What are you doin’ here?” he asked.
“I have a private client. Her place is near the Park.”
He frowned. “You need to be careful down there.”
“She’s a block off the park.” I smiled. “It’s very safe down there.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. She’s almost ninety now and finds it difficult to get out of the house. So, I go to her.”
I met his dark blue eyes and realized pretty quickly that that was a mistake, because they got soft and I melted. Well, my vagina melted. No, actually, everything melted. If I stood here much longer, I was going to end up a pile of goo. A very horny pile of goo.
“What time you done?” he asked.
“Um, usually sometime around twelve. I do her hair and then we visit for a little bit.”
“You wanna grab lunch?”
“With you?”
He cocked his head. “No, I’m askin’ you out for a friend. Need me to hand you a note with a yes or no on it?”
I bit back a chuckle. “Depends on who the friend is.”
Alamo grinned. “I can meet you somewhere or pick you up from your client’s place... whatever works for you.”
I smiled. “That sounds fun, actually. I have a meeting at two, so lunch around noon would be perfect. How about I meet you?”
He held his hand out. “Phone.”
I handed him my breakfast (and Miss Opal’s breakfast... I should have grabbed a cup carrier thingy) so I could dig in my bag without dropping anything, and once I found my phone, we switched. His thumbs flew over the display before he gave it back to me. “I’ll text you.”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
“By the way, you look real pretty today, Firefly.”
“Oh,” I whisper-squeaked. “Um, thanks, Mo.”
He grinned and walked into the coffee shop, and I stood watching his ass for a few seconds before I came to my senses and headed to my car.
I pulled up to Miss Opal’s 1880s townhouse, which was on W. Gordon Street, right around the block from Forsythe park. She was old south with a shit ton of money, but you’d never know it if you met her. Well, you might guess, as she was highly “proper,” but, outside of my family and closest friends, she was the kindest person I knew.
I knocked on the door and her butler answered within seconds.
“Miss Buckley,” he said with a huge grin. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”
“Hi, Geoffrey.”
He reached for my breakfast burdens, which I happily handed over to him. “Are you spoiling the madam with treats again?”
“Guilty,” I said, as I entered the home.
He chuckled, closing the door behind me. “She’s out in the solarium. If you’ll follow me.”
Opal had a live-in butler and housekeeper/chef who prepared most of her meals, but she also brought folks in twice a week for various things.
Today, however, was Sybil’s day off, so I grabbed Opal breakfast since she was typically on a strict diet, and had mentioned (often) that she loved cinnamon coffee cake.
I was clearly the bad influence in her life.
I walked into the solarium and found her laughing with her grandson, Thomas. Thomas Ellis; and you called him Thomas, not Tommy, Tom, or T-Bone. He was tall, blond, and very, very pretty. He wasn’t bad, for an old-world, southern man as rich as Croesus.
Even though Thomas and I had gone to the same high school (he was a year ahead of me), we had only really gotten to know each other when I started doing his grandmother’s hair two years ago.
He grinned (and stood) as I came into the room, closing the distance between us and greeting me with a kiss on the cheek... which was weird since he’d never done that before. “Jasmine Buckley, Grannie said you were coming this morning.”
“I’m a little early. I’m so sorry. I can come back.”
“You’re not early, dear,” Opal countered. “Thomas was supposed to leave an hour ago, but he stuck around for—”
“Grannie, you’re my one true love,” he interrupted. “I simply couldn’t possibly pull myself away from your witty conversation.”
I set my things on the ground before hugging Opal. “How are you?”
“I feel as though I could run a marathon.” She grinned up at me. “It’s just too bad my body disagrees with me.”
I smiled. “Bodies are such jerks.”
“Yes, they are.”
“I’m going to take my leave,” Thomas said. “May I steal Jasmine for a moment, Grannie?”
I was a little taken aback by his request, as I couldn’t imagine what Thomas Ellis would want to say to me, but I followed him back into the north parlor and he faced me with a gentle smile. “I was wondering if I might ask you out. Dinner... perhaps tonight?”
“Uh... um...” Fuck, what do I say here? I liked Thomas. He was handsome and sweet, but I’d never had him on my radar because he was super rich, super popular, and I wasn’t in his league.
“Lunch, then, if dinner’s too forward.”
“That’s not it,” I countered. “This is simply a surprise, and, uh, I’m actually busy tonight.”
With my vibrator, because, duh, lunch with Alamo.
That part I kept to myself.
“Of course you are,” Thomas breathed out. “I should not have presumed. Would Friday night be agreeable?”
I grimaced.
“You’re booked then as well,” he deduced. “Of course. A woman such as yourself is bound to be in high demand.”
“I’m free on Sunday night,” I offered, and his face lit up.
“I’ll get us reservations at Olde Pink.”
“I love that place.”
“As do I.” He grinned again. “I’ll call you with details.”
He leaned down and kissed my cheek again, then left me standing there wondering how he would call me if he didn’t have my number. Heading back into the solarium, I unpacked my bag and began to set up my mobile salon.
“My grandson is sweet on you,” Opal said.
I paused my busywork. “I’m sorry?”
“Thomas. He’s sweet on you. He’s been askin’ after you for close to a month now. I see he’s taken his chance... finally.”
I shook my head. “I had no idea.” And I really didn’t. If there had been signals, I'd missed them. All of them. Apparently, I’d lost the abilit
y to detect a man’s interest in me, if I’d ever possessed that skill at all.
“Am I free to give him your number?”
“Yes, Miss Opal, you are free to give him my number.”
The lady squeaked in excitement. Yes, she squeaked. I’d never heard so much emoting from her before, and I couldn’t stop a giggle at her outburst.
“I want six grandbabies.”
“It’s just dinner, Miss Opal.”
“It’s never just dinner,” she said. “Not with Thomas.”
I bit my lip. That gave me pause. I didn’t want to rush into things with Thomas. I didn’t want to rush into things with anyone... well, no, that wasn’t true. I wanted to rush into things with Alamo, but he was like a unicorn to me. A fantasy... with a really big horn.
“Bah! Ignore me, dear,” Opal rushed to say. “Chalk it up to the mutterings of a crazy old lady.”
I sighed. “You are neither of those things to me. Your body might be up there, but your mind is as sane and witty as a teenager’s.”
“This is why I love you so, sweet Jasmine.” She grinned. “Now, tell me about your newest face cream. You said last time that you felt like you were onto something.”
I squeezed her shoulder gently and then went about filling her in on the new discovery while I pampered her.
* * *
Alamo texted that he’d meet me at the little café by the park at twelve-thirty, but I’d gotten out of Opal’s late, and now I was almost twenty minutes past our meet time.
Shit!
I hated being late. For anything. I did text him to say I was running late, but, still, this was Alamo, and I didn’t want to let him down.
After finally finding a parking space, I rushed into the café to find Alamo sitting in the corner, his eyes glued to his phone and I took a minute to watch him. Okay, not a minute, damn it... I didn’t get a full minute because his eyes met mine and he smiled... sort of. He looked a little irked, actually, and my heart raced as I approached the table.
He stood and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, which sent my nether regions into a tailspin, but that didn’t last long either as we took our seats. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” I breathed out. “I could not get Miss Opal to stop talking.”
Stealing the Biker's Heart Page 2
