by Chiah Wilder
Before she could walk inside the elevator, Logan grasped her arm. She turned.
“So, dinner tomorrow night?”
“That’s fine.” She had to get away.
“Excellent.” He let go of her arm. “I’m going to have one more beer. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled as the door trundled shut.
Trudging down the hall, Baylee wondered what in the hell she was going to do in Pinewood Springs for three or four months. If the pace of small-town living didn’t drive her insane, she knew spending her time with Logan would push her over the edge.
After tipping the bellhop, Baylee kicked off her shoes and shuffled over to the window, squinting against the blaring sun. She sighed as she took in the blue skyline broken by the jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains, dotted with dark green foliage. Maybe I can get back into hiking. It’s been a while. When Baylee was at the University of Colorado in Boulder, she and a group of her friends hiked many of the mountain trails that circled the university town. Once she graduated and moved back to Denver, her whole focus had been on her career.
Looking out the window at the beauty of the landscape, Baylee realized how much she missed doing some of the things she used to before she became a crazed career woman. It seemed that ever since she had her one-night stand, she’d begun to question if she were making a mistake to be so single-minded in her pursuits.
Logan’s smug face flashed in her mind. She couldn’t lose to him. She was the better architect; vanity wasn’t telling her that, only the facts. Baylee had bailed Logan out more than a few times over the past two years for simple mistakes he’d made on projects they worked on. She never told Gary, Bob, or Warren, and she was positive Logan wouldn’t have been as discreet if she were the one who’d screwed up—he’d be chomping at the bit like an impatient race horse at the starting line.
Once I make partner, I’ll slow down a bit. Maybe I’ll meet a nice, sexy man. Who knows? Who the hell was she kidding? The only man she’d love to have in her life and her bed was the brooding stranger she spent the night with the previous week. Baylee couldn’t get him out of her mind. Even though her common sense told her she was crazy fantasizing over something that would never happen—she didn’t even know his name, for God’s sake—her body craved his touch, his wickedly delicious tongue which made her come over and over that night.
Damn. When would he leave her mind? Probably not until she found a living, breathing replacement, and her purple vibrator wasn’t it. She heaved another sigh. At least she was far away from Denver, and she’d be so busy with the big construction project that by the time she returned home, her sexy one-nighter would be a very distant memory.
Baylee zipped open her tote bag, taking out a couple of aspirins and a bottled water. She pulled the curtains closed, replacing the brightness with a cool, comforting darkness. She downed the tablets, stripped down to her underwear, pulled down the bedspread on the king-sized bed, slipped under the sheets, and covered her eyes with her arm. As the low hum of the air conditioner began to lull her to sleep, she prayed the shadows from the past wouldn’t creep into her dreams, turning them into nightmares as they often did. I need to sleep without the past clawing at my present. Baylee tugged the soft blanket around her, then let sleep overtake her.
* * *
Axe stretched his long legs in front of him and cursed under his breath about the malfunctioning air conditioner. It seemed that each time the temperatures hovered around one hundred degrees, the damn thing went out. His wet, gray muscle shirt clung to his chest, and his ripped biceps glistened with perspiration. After he guzzled down a bottle of ice-cold water, he twisted the cap of another and poured the chilly liquid over his head, bringing momentary relief.
A persistent fly buzzed around his face, and each time Axe tried to catch it in his large hand, the fly zipped away. The elusive insect pissed him off big-time, and he made it his mission to nail the fucker by the time church wrapped up.
Banger pounded the gavel on the old, scratched wooden table the members crowded around for their weekly meeting. The table couldn’t accommodate all thirty members, so metal folding chairs lined the concrete walls of the room. On hot days—even when the cooling system was working—the room was suffocating, but when the air conditioner fizzled, it was a sauna replete with the pungent scent of sweat.
“I know it’s hotter than Hell in here. The fuckin’ AC crapped out again. We got a repair man looking at it, but it’s happening too often. Seems like a good time to take a vote on replacing the unit. It’s gonna be expensive, though, ‘cause the repair guys are telling me that if we replace one, we gotta replace the other two that cool the building.”
“We got the money, let’s get rid of this fucker and get a new one. This fuckin’ sucks,” Bear said as he wiped his brow with the palm of his hand. Bear was large and stocky and didn’t tolerate the heat too well. He was always bitching how hot it was during the summer, and when the first snowfall came, he’d be out in the parking lot, laughing and doing wheelies with his Harley.
“Yeah, we got the money. Let’s vote. Seems like it’s gonna be unanimous, especially since it’s so fuckin’ hot in here.” Banger looked around the room. “All in favor of purchasing a new cooling system, say ‘aye.’ ”
The wave of “ayes” bounced off the walls, and Banger motioned to Jerry to come up front.
“Jerry, go tell that repairman we want to replace the whole system. Tell him I want to talk to him, so he’s to wait here until we’re done. Say, in ‘bout thirty minutes or so.”
As Jerry slipped out of the room, Banger addressed the members. “We got a problem in our county, and we gotta take action right away or it’s gonna be a mess.”
A loud bang on the table brought the eyes of the membership to Axe. He shrugged then motioned Banger to continue. When Axe lifted his hand up, he saw the fucking fly had dodged his fist. Fuck! He swatted the air as its buzzing filled his ears.
“As I was sayin’, we got a problem.” Banger looked toward Hawk, who stood up.
“Yeah, word is meth is being sold in this county.” He wiped the trickles of sweat running down his tanned face. “I know it’s been a long time since this shit has come up, but it was bound to happen. You know we have an implicit deal with the Feds to keep hard shit outta here, and they leave us and our dispensaries the fuck alone because of it. So we have to act fast, before they catch wind of it.”
“I’ll bet it’s those sonsofbitches Dustin and Shack. They’ve been trying to get back at us ever since we put them outta business. We shoulda killed them when we had the chance,” Jax said, his hot face made redder from anger.
The membership emitted sounds of fury, and Banger had to hit the gavel three times before the room calmed down. Hawk shook his head. “It’s not those guys.” He held his hands up, silencing the protests from a few members. “My old lady and I went down to southern Colorado last week for her friend’s wedding. While we were in Puebla, I stopped by the Night Rebels’ clubhouse, and Steel told me the meth was coming from a new MC who’re calling themselves Skull Crushers. The prez said the shit wasn’t coming from the Deadly Demons or the Demon Riders, who we know Dustin and Shack are riding with now, only these punks who’ve started the MC.”
“They wearing a bottom rocker that says Colorado?” Throttle asked, his voice hard as iron.
“Steel says no. If they had that shit on their cut, we’d be talking about a turf war right now. Seems like they’re a group of Neo-Nazi punks who ride rice burners, don’t get what respect is, and think they’re invincible. Fuckin’ assholes who need to be dealt with. Of course, I’m getting confirmation on all that, but once I find out it’s them, they’re dead.”
The membership whistled and held their arms in the air, waving their fists in support of the club’s solidarity. Each and every member would die for the other. The Insurgents were brothers, they were family, and they were loyal to the end. No one messed with them.
Banger stood up
, and everyone quieted down. “I’ll take that as a unanimous vote that we stomp on whoever is responsible for bringing shit into our county.”
The guys whistled.
“Okay. Let’s hear from Hawk on the treasury report.”
Hawk opened his laptop and gave a stack of papers to Chas to hand out. Axe glanced at the numbers on his copy, but he zoned out when Hawk started going over them. His mind wandered to the same thoughts it always did since his one-night stand at his friend’s wedding—to the seductress in the celery-green dress. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t rid his mind of the luscious woman who made him come harder than he ever had. Her kisses were the perfect combination of sweet and nasty, and her tits? They were so soft and perfect. He couldn’t get enough of touching her skin; it was like velvet.
Axe glanced up and saw Hawk holding the ledger sheet and pointing to some column. Instead of paying attention, Axe debated whether to call his friend Derek on his honeymoon so he could ask his wife who her friend was. The thought of his perfect lay, the memory of the way she moaned and screamed as he made her come, sparked a fire so intense in Axe that it took him by surprise. He had to know who she was. He needed to see her again, and have his cock inside her once more. Axe had no idea why this woman grabbed him that way, but she did and seeing her again was imperative.
His hand flew up as he closed it over the annoying fly. Opening his fist slowly, he cursed when it was empty, his focus immediately going back to the woman. Axe was sure once they fucked a few more times, her pussy would be familiar and he’d grow bored and move on. Screwing the same woman became tiresome quickly for Axe. He usually was a one-time guy, so the fact that he wanted to hook up again with the mystery woman surprised the shit out of him. He had to admit that she was hotter than most; no wonder he wanted another taste. Once he had it, he could walk away. No problem. But until it happened, thinking about her all the time was driving him fucking insane. The only way he could stop the automatic replay his mind was stuck on since their one-night stand was to fuck her again.
When Banger yelled out Axe’s name, he was in the land of the tall, dark-haired woman, had her toned legs wrapped around him as he pummeled her tight cunt with his big dick.
Rock, who was standing behind Axe, nudged his shoulder. Axe blinked and focused on a not-too-happy Banger.
“Sorry. Did I miss something?”
Banger’s brow creased. “Get your goddamned head outta your ass. What goes on during church is important. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“It’s the heat, that’s all.” Axe looked down at the fly resting on the table, taunting him. He didn’t think Banger would understand if he gave more attention to the fly than to his president.
“Bullshit! You’ve been acting strange for the past week. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need to get over whatever the fuck it is. Now.”
Diverting his eyes away from the fly, Axe glanced at Banger. “Okay.”
Banger rubbed his hand over his face. “What the fuck is going on with the strip mall project?” Irritation laced his voice.
“Oh, yeah. Well, nothing much. I’m meeting with the architects from Denver tomorrow morning, and I’ll go over the blueprints. The structural engineers will be there, as well. Unless there’s a major problem, we should break ground in a week.”
Banger nodded. “Good. You let me know how it goes every step of the way.” He took a big gulp of his ice-cold beer. “Don’t fuck up. Got it?”
Axe clenched his jaw and threw a hard look at Banger. “I’m on it.”
As Banger picked up the gavel, Axe jerked his hand out with lightning speed and crushed the fly. “Fuck you. Nothing messes with me,” he muttered under his breath as the gavel hit the table.
“Church over,” Banger boomed.
Axe scooted onto one of the bar stools lining the bar. Before he opened his mouth, the prospect placed a cold bottle of Coors in front of him. Axe drained it in one long pull. As the empty bottle hit the counter, another one sat in front of him. Axe wrapped his hand around the bottle.
“What’s up with you?” Jax asked as he swung onto the stool next to him.
Axe shrugged. “Nothing much. Same shit.”
Jerry leaned over and grabbed the shot the prospect placed on the bar. “No, he means what was that shit about in church?”
“Nothing. I was so damn hot, I couldn’t concentrate.”
“That’s fair,” Jax commented before he popped two green olives in his mouth. After swallowing, he said, “Why’ve you been avoiding the club girls?”
Axe slammed his beer on the bar. “I haven’t, and why the fuck is what I do any of your goddamned business?”
“Just wondering why a horn dog like you suddenly doesn’t want any club pussy. Getting it somewhere else?”
“Back the fuck off, okay? I’ve got this mall project on my mind, I’m helping out at the bike repair shop, and I don’t need to explain myself to any of you assholes.”
“Having a lot of shit to do never stopped you before,” Jax ribbed.
Jerry laughed.
Axe sulked. He was pissed because they were right. He wasn’t interested in club pussy, not when he had the image of the silkiest legs wrapped around him, and the best night of fucking he could ever remember.
“Hey,” Chas said as he slid next to Jax.
Axe, expression glum, stared straight ahead.
Tilting his chin to Axe, Chas asked, “What’s the matter with him?”
Jax popped some more olives in his mouth. “Got pussy—or, I should say, lack of pussy—on the brain.”
Chas chuckled. “Yo, brother, you do seem like you’re going through a dry spell, especially since you got back from Denver. Banger even noticed you’ve been weird.”
“We think he may have met someone there, and he’s getting prime pussy and doesn’t want to share.” Jerry laughed then motioned to the prospect for another shot.
Axe sat silent as he tried to quell the rage building inside him. If he didn’t temper it, he’d end up bashing some heads, and then Banger would be really pissed at him. Damn, they’re right.
“So, did you meet someone?” Chas prodded.
Axe clenched his jaw and continued to stare ahead. Fuck yeah, I met someone, but I don’t know who she is.
“You gonna tell us who?” Jax asked.
“More importantly, are you gonna share her? Not with these two, of course.” Jerry pointed to Jax and Chas. “They’re tied down already. But with me?”
Axe narrowed his eyes. When I find her, I’m not sharing her with anyone. What the fuck is wrong with me? Jerry and I, and sometimes Throttle, love sharing women. Threesomes and foursomes is the way I usually roll around the club. What is it about this woman? Fuck, I don’t even know her name!
“Nope, Jerry, I don’t think he’s gonna share. She must be something real special for our buddy to keep her all to himself.” Jax clapped Axe on the shoulder.
Axe knocked Jax’s hand off him and downed his beer. He pushed away from the bar and looked at them. “Fuck the hell off.”
As he sauntered out, their guffaws surrounded him. Axe held up his middle finger high in the air and exited the clubhouse.
The Harley jumped to life as he switched on the engine. Sitting on his humming bike, Axe took out his phone and stared at the blank screen for a minute. The magenta-tinted clouds bathed the biker in a warm glow, the heat of the day dissipating as the coolness of the night crept in. Axe put his phone away, then took it back out and sent a text to Derek. He had to fucking know. Shifting gears, he left the compound and rode out into the open space.
Chapter Six
Knock. Knock. Knock. Baylee covered her head with the pillow. Knock. Knock. Knock. Louder that time.
“Ugh…” Baylee threw her pillow on the floor and propelled herself out of bed, padding to the door bleary-eyed. Opening it a crack, she groaned when she saw the broad smile on Logan’s face.
“Why in the hell would you be knocking at my
door at seven in the morning?” she asked as she tried to finger-comb her bed-hair.
“I thought you’d be up. We have an important job to do, and you’re always so early and eager to get started.”
“We don’t have to be at the firm until nine o’clock. That’s like, in two hours.”
“Thought you might want to grab some breakfast. We can go over our strategy.”
“I don’t do breakfast. A strong cup of coffee, black, is all I need. Oh, and before you get any ideas, I don’t do lunch, either.”
“Wow. How do you function?”
Baylee shrugged.
“Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the restaurant for coffee. Say, in thirty minutes?”
“I’ll meet you at the firm at nine. Go away, Logan.”
“You’re cranky in the morning, aren’t you?”
Sighing, Baylee closed the door and trudged back to bed. What was Logan up to? They’d worked together for a little more than two years—she knew him, knew he wasn’t being solicitous for the hell of it. Perhaps he was awkward being in a new place and not knowing anyone but her, but Baylee was sure he was up to something. Maybe he was cozying up to her to find out what her ideas were, then he’d steal them from her and claim them as his own. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something devious like that on his climb up the firm ladder.
Baylee tried to get another hour of shut-eye before she had to start her day, but sleep eluded her; she tossed and turned, mashing her pillow to re-fluff it. Cursing Logan, she shuffled to the bathroom to take a shower.
An hour later, she slipped on a sleeveless, light gray pencil dress with a hemline that rose slightly above her knee. The dress hugged her in all the right places, showing off her curves in a subtle and professional manner. Light gunmetal four-inch pumps completed her look. Checking herself in the mirror, she swiped peach lip gloss over her nude lipstick. With her black leather briefcase and matching clutch bag in hand, she left her room.
Driving around Pinewood Springs was a breeze. That was one thing she hated about Denver—the constant traffic. It took forever to traverse the big city, but in less than ten minutes, she pulled her car in the firm’s parking lot. Small-town living has its perks.
