Black Sheep (Rawkfist MC Book 1)

by Bijou Hunter

  “She misses her dad.”

  Jared frowns at Poppy, who shakes her head. “My father smells like disappointment and pit stains.”

  “Well this has been a learning experience,” he says, standing up. “If you two are finished, I’ll pay the bill.”

  “I’m almost done gnawing the bone.”

  Jared leaves Poppy and me to goof around at the table. When Wanda comes by, I convince her to visit our house for dinner. I know Christine needs friends and Wanda is a cool chick especially since she helped me zero in on my stalking target’s location.

  4 Black Sheep

  Justice

  A few hours before heading to another day at Rite-Rock Mart, I arrive at the Lipmann Storage. The units are located on the south side of the town limits with a lot of trees and a seniors-only trailer home community.

  Walking inside, I'm struck by cold air as a bell rings. While waiting for someone to appear, I quickly run my fingers through my floppy bangs. My mind is so set on seeing Court that I blink a few times before realizing a woman stands before me.

  "Can I help you?" she asks.

  "Yes, Margie," I say, reading her name tag. "I was supposed to drop something off for Court. Is he here?"

  Margie is a short, round woman with vibrant green eyes. Based on her sympathetic expression, she realizes I’m a stalker and worries for my long-term mental stability.

  "No, dear. He's running errands. You can leave whatever it is here with me, and I'll pass it along."

  "That's kind of you, but I'm only supposed to give it to him. Do you know when he'll be back?"

  Margie studies me with her pretty eyes, and I can't help wondering if she was a real heartbreaker in her youth. I bet back in high school that all of the guys wanted a piece of Margie. She has the looks of a girl who started out shiny like a diamond, but the raw deal of life dulled her sparkle. Christine sometimes has that look about her too.

  "Look, I'll be straight with you. Court doesn't spend much time in the office. If you want to talk with him, you'd be better off looking at TR's Jug most nights of the week."

  "Thanks, Margie. You have a great day."

  Returning to my car, I begin driving before I know where I'm heading. Am I so desperate for this particular man's attention that I'll chase him down so obviously?

  Yes, I am but not today. I decide to arrive at work early and study up on the business. My go-getter attitude gets the attention of the two on-duty clerks. The redhead's name keeps escaping me, even though she's the hard worker.

  The stuck-up bitch's name is Melly, and she tells me more than once not to call her "jelly." I politely inform her both times how I have no frigging urge to refer to her with a silly name. After all, we're not friends. I'm the manager, and she's one of my employees. The second time, she gets the point and sulks. I relish the sad look on her face. I'm a cruel bitch that way.

  I'm doing inventory in the chips aisle when a Harley pulls into the parking lot. My heart doesn't pitter patter, and I don't think of Court. Jared said the Rawkfist MC counted thirty people in their core ranks. He also said riding motorcycles was a favored pastime of the local senior set. No reason to expect Court to come looking for me especially when I'm the stalker in our non-relationship.

  Redhead girl is at the front counter when someone asks for me. I hear her direct the man in my direction. He thanks her, even using her name. I know that voice, and now my heart does pitter patter. How's my hair? Is he angry? Do I have lunch in my teeth? Will he mock me for stalking him? Is he as hot as I remember?

  Yes, to the last question anyway.

  Court struts over me to me, looking taller and wider than I remember. He's wearing a cocky smile on his face, and his eyes are undressing me. I relish his swagger and estimate the number of women who've creamed themselves silly over such a man. As damp as my panties get, I want to keep my self-respect in check.

  "It's Justice, right?" he says, stopping about an inch too close to me to remain polite.

  "Yes."

  "You came looking for me at work."

  "Did I get you in trouble? Should I speak to your employer?"

  Court blinks a few times, confused by my words. I don't know what he expected me to say. I smile at his confusion.

  "You're playing with me,” he says, smiling now.

  "I only came by to thank you for helping me out the other day."

  "Yeah, about that," he says, shifting to his left and erasing the space between us. "I might have come off a little ungrateful when you offered me dinner."

  "No worries. I just assumed you were on your way to prison for a ten-year spell. Was I wrong?"

  Court shifts again, sliding a few inches away in a smooth move. "Yeah, about that too. I might have been under the impression you and your sister were high school students."

  "Oh, and you didn't want to take advantage of a slutty slice of jailbait. That's real gentlemanly of you, Court. So did you figure out the age goof somewhere between when I dropped by your work and this very moment?"

  Court doesn't react to my words. He intensely studies me with razor sharp brown eyes. I force my gaze to remain unflinching when meeting his. As much as I hunger to lick this gorgeous man, I somehow manage to keep my tongue firmly in neutral.

  "Your dad told me," he says, reaching out and stroking one of my blonde waves.

  "Are you in his club?"

  "Yes. Does that bother you?"

  "Nothing bothers me. I'm unflappable. It's why I'm a good manager."

  Court gaze lowers to my name tag and lingers in the vicinity.

  "Is Court your real name or did the club give you that?"

  "My name is Courtland, but I always hated it."

  "Court ain't much better," I say, finally luring his gaze away from my boobs.

  "Justice is cute. I like it," he murmurs. "Fits you real nice."

  I lean forward until our lips are mere inches apart. "Is this your way of saying you want me to take you to dinner?"

  "Yeah."

  "Is my dad okay with you sniffing around his seed?"

  Court frowns at my wording, catches up, and smiles. "He said you were the pick of the litter."

  "He's a poet."

  Grinning so perfectly that I forget about the boob lusting he did earlier, Court steps back.

  "You busy tonight?"

  "Of course. I'm not some pathetic loser sitting at home waiting for a man to show up without any notice."

  "Sorry. What kind of notice do you need?"

  "How about we have dinner in two weeks?"

  Court gives me a weird look. I stare right back at him, unwilling to bow to his sexiness.

  "You're messing with me again," he finally says.

  "Very much so."

  "Tonight then?"

  "No, my ego demands you wait at least until tomorrow. After all, you thought I was in high school."

  "You do look young."

  "I'll also look young when I'm old. You should keep that in mind if you're the sort to think long term."

  Court steps back. "I'm going to have to watch myself with you, aren't I?"

  "Oh, most definitely," I say, sharing his smile. "Do you know my address?"

  "I'll pick you up at six, yes?"

  "Yes."

  Court gives me a sly side-glance before disappearing down the aisle and out of the door. I listen to the Harley roar in the parking lot but don't trust myself to look out of the window. I've successfully aced our conversation while standing mere inches away from the sexiest slice of hunk I've drooled over in my twenty-three years. I'm surprised I don't need a shower, and a simple splash of cold water in the restroom is enough to cool me down.

  Today, I played everything perfectly. I suspect doing so tomorrow will likely prove my undoing.

  5 Black Sheep

  Court

  My roommate Chucky is always high. Every morning, he wakes up, smokes pot on the toilet while taking his morning piss, and wanders out for breakfast fully baked. The redheaded, freck
led pizza delivery man stays that way the entire day.

  I don’t think I can remember a time when he wasn’t stoned, and we’ve been friends since our fourth-grade teacher made us sit together.

  Returning home from visiting my son, Felix, I walk into the three-bedroom apartment to find Chucky and his sometimes live-in girlfriend, Basil, on the floor in front of the couch. They’re giggling about something on the TV.

  The overly made-up blonde waitress looks at me and smiles widely. I notice lipstick on her teeth and think to say something. Keeping my mouth shut, I assume Chucky will lick her clean soon enough.

  “No Felix?” Basil asks.

  “Nope. He wanted to hang out with his friends.”

  “Already getting replaced, eh, Pop?” Chucky says, laughing. “That’s gotta burn the soul.”

  I have no doubt 99 percent of the human population would hate these idiots. I ought to avoid them too, now that I’m a father, but Chucky is loyal to a fault. If someone took a shot at me, I know he’d jump in the way. Of course with his druggy reflexes, he wouldn’t jump fast enough, but the thought is what counts in life.

  “The kid needs friends. I’d hate for him to be so lonely that he hangs out with a ginger and his trailer trash harlot.”

  “Harlot?” Basil dreamily asks. “I like that. Sounds classy.”

  Grinning at them, I check my mail and wonder what Justice is doing right then. I know she just moved to town so maybe she’s unpacking. She might be running around town with her sisters, picking up strange men who I’d need to kill. I’m already feeling rather possessive of a girl I barely I know.

  “Wanna come along to my niece’s party tomorrow?” Basil asks. “She’s legal now and super cute, and she thinks you’re the bomb.”

  “I have a date.”

  “With who?”

  “Whom,” Chucky corrects.

  “What?”

  They giggle at their misunderstanding, and I assume they’ll forget we’re speaking. I’m okay with the silence. I’d rather hang out in my room and watch sports. I need to take my mind off Justice or else I’ll be ready to pop the minute I see her again.

  “Whom are you going out with?” Basil asks, having stretched out behind Chucky on the couch.

  “She’s one of Jared’s daughters.”

  “I’m hoping it’s the hot one,” Chucky says, collapsing on the floor. “Seinfeld wears me out, man.”

  “What’s her name?” Basil asks, stumbling toward me. “Is she cool?”

  “Justice and I think so, yeah.”

  “Don’t be shy.”

  “I’m not looking to gossip.”

  “You should give it a try. Gossiping is the bomb.”

  Basil thinks everything is the bomb.

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “A rib joint,” is my answer since I don’t want these two showing up to check us out.

  “Is she pretty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she beautiful?” she teases. “Do you dream of her?”

  “Wet dreams,” Chucky says with his eyes closed. “That’s how I dream of you, baby.”

  “Ah, that’s sweet.”

  The sad thing is Basil isn’t the sarcastic type. She wouldn’t understand half of what Justice says.

  “You might want an out,” Chucky announces.

  “A what?”

  “You need a reason to keep the date short, just in case shit ain’t going good. Make her also know you’re a busy fucking playa and she needs to know her place.”

  “He ain’t wrong,” Basil says.

  “He’s rarely right, though.”

  “Being right is overrated. I’d rather just be.”

  “That sounds plenty Zen and all, but I’d rather be right.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to have an out?”

  Touching my arm forever burned by her touch, I frown. “I don’t think lying to Justice is such a good idea. Not with her dad looking over my shoulder.”

  I don’t care what Jared says about staying out of shit. I know men like him. He has a sphere of influence. His family, work, club, and town belong to him. The more he cares about something, the less he’ll back off. Justice is his kid, and he’ll track her every move. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the sneaky fucker didn’t already know about Justice’s stolen wallet before I told him.

  Like Jared, I keep my feelings close to the vest. Chucky is my best friend and Basil has been attached at his hip for five years. I know these people, but I don’t gossip. Not back in the day with my shit relationship with Becca and not now with a new chance with a new girl.

  Even if I were the gossipy type, I’d stay quiet about Justice. Something about the motor-mouth blonde makes me suspect I have no idea what I’m getting into.

  6 Black Sheep

  Justice

  Court makes quite an impressive image roaring up to the house. Poppy watches him from the window and whispers to our cat Thelma how the scary man is going to pound my vagina soon. Less curious, Journey stands in the kitchen with Christine.

  "Be home by midnight," Christine says.

  Everyone laughs at her comment while Hal growls at the approaching Harley and does his agitated doggy dance.

  "No worries," Poppy tells the dog. "Justice likes danger. That's why she cries on roller coasters."

  Checking my appearance in the mirror at the front door, I smile at Poppy's comments. Was I such a horror show at fifteen?

  "Did you take the pill?" Poppy asks, stopping me at the door. "There’s no room in this house for your bastard offspring."

  "Don't be jealous of my hot date. One day, you'll find a boy horny enough to deal with your big mouth."

  "Promise?" Poppy asks, laughing at her fake sincerity.

  Brushing her aside, I grab my bag and reach for the doorknob.

  "Yay for me," I say to my family.

  "Yay for you," they say back.

  I walk outside to where Court turns off his Harley and gives me the once over.

  "Like what you see?" I ask, turning around to show off my black jeans and a red flannel vest top.

  "Wouldn't be here, if I didn't."

  "Why, aren't you the charmer," I say, stepping closer to the Harley. "Nice hog but I wonder. Are you a good driver? Like do you have any points on your license?"

  "You're kidding, right?"

  I caress the Harley's handle. "I'm not interested in dying young. In fact, I’m looking forward to dying of old age in my bed a million years from now."

  "I bet you'll be a sexy old broad," he says, leaning over and tugging at a lock of my short wavy hair.

  "Oh, I know I will be, but you didn't answer me about being a good driver."

  "I ride with my kid. Wouldn't do that if I wasn't a good driver."

  "Kid?" I say, stepping back. "How old? Not still in diapers, is it?"

  Court furrows his brow, making him handsome in a new way. "He rides on my Harley, so how could he still be in diapers?"

  "I don't know babies."

  "He's eleven."

  "Oh, that's fine. I'm okay with that age. Now how do I climb on this thing without injuring myself?"

  "What if my boy was a baby? Would you still want to climb on my hog?"

  Focusing on his face, I find him somewhere between genuinely offended and redneck flirting.

  "How do I know? I don't think things out that way. I just do what I'm gonna do. Since you've neglected to explain how to climb on your hog, I might injure you. Be a doll and don't cry if I squish your balls."

  "Man, you're seductive. All flowers and heart-shaped candies," he says, wrapping a hand under my bicep and swinging me behind him.

  I settle my thighs behind his. "Cool trick."

  "Figured you'd be impressed."

  I lean forward and slide my hands around his waist. "I guess you do a lot of crunches," I murmur and then pat his hard gut. "Where do you want my hands?"

  Court glances back over his shoulder. "Do you really have to as
k?"

  "If I hold it, can I pretend the Harley is a stick shift, and I'm driving?"

  Court laughs deeply. "On second thought, keep your hands to yourself."

  Laughing too, I grip his loose white tee and lean my cheek against his sweaty back. He smells like heat and soap. I flinch when the Harley starts with a ferocious rumbling but instantly relax once we reach the highway leading us to town.

  I don't know where we're eating, and I don't particularly care. Life is about knowing when to let go and when to hold on. Right now, I'm doing both.

  We ride along the quiet roads, and I trust Court will bring me home safely. Or at least I trust my dad will kill him if the date ends badly. Revenge sounds nice, and I imagine Jared as Liam Neeson hunting down the bad guys Taken-style. Despite the cool imagery in my head, I'm essentially fantasizing about a movie where I'm the victim, and that's just weird.

  We stop at Rolling Roni’s Ribs, and I'm instantly struck by the scent of slow-cooking meat. My stomach growls while I stumble off of the Harley. An amused Court studies me as I regain my land legs.

  "Weird to think Jared's kid can't ride bitch on a bike without looking..."

  "Looking what?" I ask, giving him a dark glare. "Pace yourself carefully here, bud."

  Grinning, Court climbs off the Harley and fixes a wild clump of my hair.

  "Looking prettier than sin is what I was gonna say."

  "Oh, I know it was," I say, giving him a grin.

  Court and I walk past lines of cars and bikes plus two motor homes. Feeling bold, I take his hand. He doesn't even look at me. Mister Too Cool for School won't let go of my hand, though.

  "Is this your first date headquarters?" I ask as he opens the door for me.

  "Oh, yeah. I bring all the ladies here. I have little tests prepared too. I should have warned you to study up."

  Squeezing his hand, I smile up at him. "I'm so excited to see my prize if I pass."

  Court grins. "You should be. It's huge."

  "It’s a good thing I brought a ruler then."

  Laughing, Court barely acknowledges the waitress leading us to a booth. I slide across from him and take in the atmosphere. The place is rough from the battered leather booths to the celebrity mug shots on the walls. Overhead, speakers play blues and country. The menu is all meat with a few afterthoughts side dishes.