by Zoey Parker
Besides, if he didn’t want me, that was fine. I lived just fine the past seven years without his touch. Although, to be fair, I never knew his touch like I did the night before. Damn him. But two could play his game.
Chapter 11
Michael
My mood only darkened more by the time I made it into the garage. Lauren wasn’t the only one left frustrated after I pulled the idea of sex off the table in her bedroom. My cock wouldn’t settle down, no matter how much cold water I threw on my face or how hard I tried to ignore the naked legs sitting next to me in the truck.
I was sure she thought I didn’t know what game she played by wearing that thin cotton dress that barely met her mid-thigh, but she didn’t know my history. Most the women I involved myself wore even less than that, and for the exact same reason: to get me hard and ready. Except with Lauren, the prize changed. I wasn’t looking to get in her panties, not yet, not until she learned she wasn’t in control here. No, I was looking for more with Lauren.
Fuck. I needed to get my head on straight. Nothing could go far with her. I needed to get her safe, be sure whoever was gunning for her was neutralized, and then I needed to split. She wouldn’t see it coming, I would need to warn her, to tell her we weren’t a thing, that no matter how much we connected as kids, we were way too different now. I had a fucking past that would forever haunt me, and she was pure. She deserved someone who would buy her a big house, with a big yard, a dog and some kids. A man who would take care of her and make love to her, not tie her up, blindfold her, spank her and fuck her hard until they both gasped for air and she saw stars. No, she didn’t need a man like me.
“Hey, boss.” Tony didn’t even look up from the ledger he wrote in as I walked up to him.
“I have a job for you today.” I walked around the counter to the coffee pot. “Who made the coffee?” I picked up the carafe.
Tony snorted. “I did. It’s drinkable.” Leroy tried to do it sometimes, but it never failed that his pot came out more like mud than coffee.
Pouring myself a cup, wishing like hell I could slip a little whiskey into it to take the edge off my mood, I began to tell Tony about babysitting Lauren for the afternoon.
He pushed the leger aside and leaned against the counter. “Who is this chick?”
“Lauren is an old friend.” By his raised brow, I realized I must have spoken more harshly than I intended. “From high school.” I tried to soften my tone, but I’m pretty sure I failed miserably.
“You think this guy at her school’s gunning for her?”
I eyed him. Tony still ran with the Predators, not a full active member, but he was involved. “She was attacked last night. Matthew Schmidt.” I took a sip of my coffee.
He frowned. “Why the fuck would he attack her?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to ask him. When I caught up to them, he had her pinned against the wall with a knife to her fucking throat. I didn’t exactly stop to ask for ID before I kicked the shit out of him. I recognized him after he was laid out flat on the ground.”
“Fuck.” He shook his head. “Makes no sense. Last meeting I went to, nothing big was going on, nothing other than standard business shit.”
“Yeah, but you’re only a part timer as far as Taylor is concerned. If he has some big plan that involves knifing innocent women in dark alleys, you wouldn’t be privy to it.”
The brotherhood that drew me to the club after getting out of juvie had quickly turned into separate groups once I settled myself in the club. There were those the president pulled in for his inner circle, those he sent out on the car theft runs, the illegal shit. The rest were left sitting in the background, voting on stupid shit like where to hold the next rally and when to have the chili cook off.
“What’s your next move?”
“Gonna pay Matthew a little visit this morning. Assuming he’s still nursing his wounds at that hell hole he calls an apartment. I need to be sure Lauren’s safe, so make sure you’re there before her class lets out. Wait for her in the hall. That Pierre asshat gets near her, you squeeze in there.”
“If she doesn’t want to come with me?”
“She knows you’ll be there, but if she gives you any trouble, just remind her of my promise when I dropped her off. That will get her ass in line. Take the truck, I don’t want her on a bike until I know that shoulder of hers is as healed as she claims.” The memory of her blushing red hot when I walked her to class started to make my dick ache for her again.
After spending the car ride inching her dress up her thigh, and giving me carefully planned seductive glances, I was ready to rip the dress off her and just give her what she wanted right there. But I needed her cooperation today. When we reached her class, I held her up from going inside, and pulled her around the corner, away from unwanted eyes. She’d looked up at me with surprise just before I pushed her against the wall and pressed my mouth on hers, slipping my hand under her hair, and fisting her hair just at her scalp.
She groaned beneath my lips and I thrust my tongue past her lips. The kiss was hard and I gave her no room to pull away, not that she would have. When I pulled away, she looked up at me with as much want and greed as she had in her bedroom. Fuck, she responded too well to my darker side. “Tony will pick you up after class and take you to the shelter. Text me and let me know what time you’re done there and I’ll pick you up. If you behave today, don’t give me or anyone I send to get you any shit, I’ll give you a real nice reward when I get you home tonight.”
Her breath washed over my face, she licked her lips. “What’s that?” She tried so hard to sound casual, but I kept my amusement to myself.
“I’ll bind your arms again, and your ankles. I’ll have you spread out on my bed, and I’ll lick that pretty pussy of yours until you come so hard you’ll forget your own name.” I still had her hair in my hand, and I wasn’t letting go yet. “Then, I’ll flip you over, and sink my cock so deep into you and you’ll come again. But only if you’re a good girl today.”
“That’s one hell of a reward.” She winced when I tightened my hold on her hair. “Heck! Heck of a reward,” she rectified.
My fingers loosened then slid out of her hair. “That’s a good girl.” I placed a tender kiss to her cheek. “Now get to class before you’re late, and stay away from Pierre.”
She nodded, then side-stepped her way out of my grasp. Just before she turned the corner she looked over her shoulder and gave me another nod. “Got it, sir.”
Damn brat.
“She won’t give you any trouble,” I reassured Tony. “Her class gets out at one. I’m hoping to be back a little after you get back. When you drop her at the shelter, walk her inside. Take no shit from her, inside, then you can leave.”
“Got it, boss.” Tony nodded then turned back to his ledger. “You gonna take Leroy with you to see Matthew?”
“Nope.” I dropped my coffee cup in the metal garbage can as I headed to the back door toward my bike. I saw him shaking his head, but he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
***
Matthew lived on the Southside, a good thirty minutes from the garage, even in light traffic. I made my way to the back of his building and parked my bike next to his. A good sign.
Taking the wooden steps up the fire escape two at a time, I got to his apartment at the top floor quickly. I listened through the door. Nothing. I raised my fist to pound on the door, and almost ended up pounding on his face, again, when it swung open.
His face probably couldn’t take another punch by the look of it. His right eye was swollen shut and a deep purple ring already started to form under it. A dark red line of crusted blood covered his fat nose, probably broken. He took one look at me and stepped back into his apartment, trying to slam the door closed on me. I put a hand out and muscled my way in.
I coughed hard, the overwhelming scent of burnt baby powder nearly suffocated me. “Shit man!” I shoved him away from the window and threw it open. “You gott
a open a window when you smoke that shit!” I gestured to the used crack pipe and lighter lying on the kitchen table. No wonder I didn’t hear him wandering around the apartment; he was sitting right on the other side of the door getting himself high.
“Fuck, Mike, I didn’t know you were there.” He ran a dirty hand over his face, wiping away sweat and grime. I didn’t look around the place; the smell told me enough about his living habits that a visual aid wasn’t needed. “What do you need, man?” He pulled out a chair from the table and threw himself in it. I was surprised the rusted metal legs didn’t give out on him.
“What happened to your face?” I gestured to his eye and nose.
He bowed his head. “Just a little fight. You should see the other guy.” He forced a laugh and tried to look up at me, giving me a nearly toothless smile.
“Taylor know you’re on this shit again?” I kicked the leg of the table, sending his crack pipe skidding across the surface. He dove for it, catching it just before it slipped off.
“No.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Don’t say anything, Mike.”
“I don’t talk to him anymore, you know that.” I leaned back against the fridge, watching him blink and try to focus on me.
“Yeah. I forgot. You blew us off, left the crew.”
My hackles went up over that comment. I’d busted a few faces over the same accusation. “I didn’t blow off the crew. I wised up and got out of that life. Taylor wouldn’t let me out of the car shit; it was either take off my cut or keep running with his shit. And his shit would have gotten me back in jail. He wanted me out, not the other way around.”
I shoved my hands in my pocket to keep from grabbing him when he laughed. “Yeah. I know. I remember now. He didn’t think you’d take off your leather. He thought you’d stick.”
“Whatever, that’s not what I came here for. I want to know what the fuck you were doing putting your knife to that girl last night.”
His head snapped up, looking at me. “What?” Through the cloudiness of his expression, I couldn’t tell if he didn’t understand my question, or if he was recognizing me as the guy who broke his face.
“Last night. You had a knife to her throat, right before you got your ass handed to you. Probably because you were too fucking high to fight back.”
“That was you?” His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck were you doing there?”
“Taking a long walk in the moonlight,” I said. If he weren’t going after Lauren because of her connection to me, why the fuck would he go after her? “Taylor tell you to go after her, or were you working on your armed robbery badge?”
“My what?”
Man, I hated talking to high fuckers. They couldn’t keep up. “Did Taylor send you after her, or were you just being an asshole?” The drugs didn’t affect his hearing but I yelled anyway. My patience thinned.
“No, man. I wasn’t…I mean he sent me. He just wanted to get her to cooperate, but I didn’t get to talk to her. You fucking showed up like Batman or some shit.” He rubbed his head again, scratching hard.
“Cooperate about what?” I put my hands flat on the table, leaning over at him.
“I don’t know. Said he was paying back a favor or something. I don’t know.”
“Did you tell him yet that you fucked it up?”
“No. I was going to try to talk to her again tonight. I can’t go back to him and tell him I fucked it up. I’m on thin ice with him, man.” I recognized the panic in his eyes. I’d seen the same look on half a dozen poor bastards that fell on the wrong side of Taylor’s approval.
“What’s your message?”
“To the chick? I was just supposed to tell her to back off the internship. That’s all. I don’t even know what the fuck that means.” He started coughing, clutching his chest as the racking cough consumed him.
Her internship? What the fuck would Taylor care about it? I wanted to push him, but his eyes glassed over even more. I doubted the asshole even slept, probably stayed up all night smoking. “Get some ice on that eye, and get cleaned up.” I shoved off the table. “Taylor still hang at the clubhouse during the day?”
“Yeah. He’s probably there.” Matthew hung his head. A defeated man sat there in the kitchen with me. Either it was to Taylor or it was to the drugs, but he was a man owned.
“You go near that girl again and I’ll do more than break your nose. You got me? Consider your message delivered.”
***
The last time I walked out of the clubhouse I did so with a half-broken rib and split knuckles. Mick didn’t take kindly to my decision to leave the club and his bullshit behind. He gave me the choice, ditch the kutte or ditch my fascination of not living in a jail cell for his ass. I guessed he didn’t think I’d take off the leather, because once I slid it off my shoulders, he had pounced on me. I gave as good as I got, but that didn’t matter. Men I called brothers stood watching our prez attack me. Only a handful of them had worked to break up the brawl and get me out of the club before I got real angry. Those were the few I still kept in contact with.
Stale cigars and beer. The place still smelled the same. I walked across the empty lounge and headed to his office in the back. I could hear a few noises coming from the club bedrooms and grinned remembering the amount of times I’d taken one of the club girls back there.
I found Mick easily enough at his desk. Outside the club, he didn’t do much else. Which was why he made the perfect president. While other members worked outside jobs, or worked the garage next door fixing up cars and doing repairs, he would be in his office crunching numbers, bringing in the money to make payday. I couldn’t lie, I made bank working for him. That was what bankrolled my garage. What money the feds didn’t find when they ransacked my fucking apartment trying to get dirt on Mick while I was in lockup.
“I can smell your oily ass from here.” His smoker’s voice grated against my skin. As I appeared in the doorway he looked up from his computer. Watching him figure out how to use the damn thing had been comical, and I was sure if I had time to watch him using it now, it would be just as humorous. “Michael DiMarco. What brings your old ass in here?” He gave me a toothy smile. His beard had grayed since I last saw him, just at the tips, but enough to tell me the man was finally aging.
He had seemed bigger than life when I first met him. Now when I looked at him, I saw the wrinkles the years had given him, and the leather quality of his skin from riding his bike out in the sun for too many years.
“Just stoppin’ in to say hi to old friend.” I grinned, coming around his desk with my hand out.
He looked at it, then shook his head. Pushing off his chair he wrapped his arms around me, slapping my back hard. He may have beaten my ass when I took off the leather, but the man had never given up on the idea of me “coming home.” “Hmph.” He snorted and gave me a shove. “Sit. Sit.” He waved at the chair in front of him.
I took the seat, resting my foot on my knee. “How’s business?” I nodded to the computer.
“Good. Would be better with you back on my side.” He didn’t beat around the bush when it came to the one thing he wanted from me that I couldn’t give to him.
“You gonna guarantee every car I work on is legit?” He could lie to me, but he wouldn’t. I knew that. No matter how much we pissed each other off, we had at least that much respect for each other.
He laughed and looked away. His usual answer. “How’s the garage?”
“Doing good.”
“Some of my guys are working for you, I hear. Instead of my garage.” It wasn’t an accusation but I could see he didn’t like the idea.
“One or two.”
He sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his rounded belly. The wedding ring on his hand shined in the lighting.
“You got married?” I hadn’t heard that piece of news. Mick wasn’t the marrying kind, he always said. Plenty of club girls hung on him, so he didn’t need to make a choice.
“Lucy got pregnant.�
� His voice was flat. “Said I had to make an honest woman of her if I wanted to keep fucking her, or see the kid.” I waited, there was more to the story. He wouldn’t be blackmailed into something like marriage. “I put up a fight, of course.” He shrugged. “Then she lost the baby. Miscarried three months in. Damn near killed her.” His voice dropped, and he looked at the wall behind me. I was seeing another side of Mick I’d never seen before.
“So you married her anyway?”
“She wouldn’t have me at first. Said I was only feeling sorry for her. Took me six months to get that woman down the fucking aisle.” He brought his eyes back to mine. “I’m telling you, Michael, if you find a woman worth giving up every piece of ass out there, you marry her, mark her, whatever you need to do to keep that woman chained to you.”
