by K. M. Keeton
⨳ ⨳ ⨳
In the morning I wake from a restless sleep to find her looking up at me still in the same spot with red rimmed eyes, and it makes me feel like an ass.
I hated to leave her like that, but when Ric calls, that means I go. I made her a quick breakfast of eggs and toast in bed, and even with a tired smile of reassurance she'd be fine I still felt like shit.
I pull up at the club house, and walk up the stairs to Ric’s office. When I find it locked I can't help but laugh despite my mood. The old man has finally learned his lesson. When I do make it into his office he's leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest with the biggest smirk on his face.
“Alright old man, good one, now tell me what you got for me.”
The smirk disappears, “The girl that your target was touching a little too friendly has disappeared. Bear’s already talked to the kid, and he doesn’t know anything. We’ve heard rumors that she's been seen with one of the bikers of the Snake Eyes a few counties over. I need you to come with me and Mac over to their clubhouse. I need you to drive a cage in case we need it.”
“Yeah, alright when do we leave?” I ask,
“In about twenty minutes. Leaves enough time for you to exchange vehicles. We’ll meet you at your place before we head out so we're not back trackin.”
“Anything else I need to know?”
“No, but if you see Tank down there send him up.”
I nod and make my way out, down the stairs looking for Tank. Spotting him at the bar, his mohawk hanging loose to one side, his tattooed arms bared. Out of everyone under forty in the club he’s got the most tatts. I make my way up to him and relay the message before heading out.
I store my bike in the small garage behind the house, and grab the keys for the little red 4 x 4. Only had enough time to start it up, and on the road when I hear the bikes coming down my street. The bikes speed past me, and I follow. It takes about two hours to get to our destination, and I forgot how nice it is to listen to music while on the road. I never take time to listen to music anymore like I used too.
The club house used to be a bar at one time, but the sign hanging above the door has since gone out. Despite being in the middle of town it’s the darkest building on the street. Curtains hide whatever is going on behind them. Busting into this place stealthy would be near to impossible, and I’m not even sure how they can be discreet in this location.
We make our introductions, most are friendly enough, but I guess you get that with any group of people. The bar is on the right, some round tables and chairs on the left, and through a door straight back a place to shoot the shit over pool tables. It’s nicer than I thought it would be.
Being that I’m just an Officer, I take a place at the bar as Ric and Mac, his second go back to talk to the President. The bartender comes over and hands me a beer without even asking me what I want. They must only have the one kind. Which I don’t mind, I’ll drink just about anything.
A guy in Snake Eye colors ambles over, he is middle age, and it shows. Almost all his hair grayed out, deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, but his eyes are what has me on edge. They were a muddy brown, and they looked dead.
“Hey man,” he says in a raspy voice. Definitely a smoker in his day.
I nod, “Hey.”
“What are you guys doing here?” he asks wearily.
“That’s between our presidents to discuss.”
“Ric trusts you to be here. You an Officer? I don’t see any colors.”
I say nothing to his barb. Ric trusts me and I know he does. I'd already been offered colors, but I told him as soon as I can get something else, I'd be available for weekend rides only. For pleasure, not business. Its nothing against the club, and because he and I are family he knows where I'm coming from. That doesn’t mean I'm going to tell this stranger that. He can stay the fuck out of my business.
“Can I borrow your phone? I forgot mine and I need to call my old lady real quick,” I shrug. I might not like him, but I won't show him disrespect. I hand over my cell. He turns his back to me in privacy. Only a minute passes before he hands it back. “Couldn’t figure it out. I'll go borrow someone else's,” with that our exchange was over. That was fucking weird.
The guy tending bar sniffs as he returns, “Stay away from that one Kid. He's got a nasty temper.”
“Like most older men.”
He snorts, “I wish that weren’t true, but as people get older they either have greater patience, or there “give-a-shit” meter is busted. Rarely is there anything in between,” he walks away leaving that nugget of wisdom. Um yeah, ok. I want out of here.
I'm left alone for the rest of the time and it's only another ten before Ric and Mac are back. I expect them both to head my way, but Mac walks off to a group of about four in one corner. Ric sits at the stool next to me and leans over the bar.
“Something’s going on, but I don’t think he knows anything about the girl. Mac is over there trying to get something else before we leave. Most of the guys here remember Mac from his time in their club. They are more likely to talk to him. We can have a beer while we wait.”
“They only got the one. Mac used to be apart of these guys?”
“Yeah he used to live up here, his pop is still a Snake Eye. He's one of those guys in the group over there he's talking to.”
“Well shit, what made him leave?”
“Tracy, his old lady. Talking about ladies I heard you’ve got a new one.”
“Bear tell you?”
“Nope you know Bear isn’t one for gossip. It was Tank. You should have told me. Any promise?”
“Not sure, we're figuring it out,” that reminds me, “You know anything about the MC’s up in Chicago?”
“Big state, but I know a few, what’s up?”
“I’m just wondering, that’s where my girl is from. She mentioned a club.”
“Hmmm well even if I did know something keep it between you and her unless it involves the club directly. You don’t need us mixed up in all that.”
“Yeah, alright.”
We sit in silence for another few minutes, enjoying our beers before Mac comes over. He speaks rapidly to Ric, and low enough that I couldn’t hear. Ric nods then nods to me. We leave. Once we get outside Ric pulls me aside next to my truck.
“Nothing about the girl, there's something else going on, but that’s another day's worry. I need you to stay here in town for a day to be sure they are telling the truth regarding the girl. Snake Eyes have a reputation for kidnapping and trafficking. Something doesn’t feel right. Could be wrong. She could just be hiding out here, and she's a normal run away case. If that is what’s going on we'll drop back and let the cops take it.”
“Got it.”
“Thanks Kid. Take this,” He places a few bills in my hand. He turns and leaves.
Counting, I have enough for a hotel and breakfast in the morning. Thank fuck for that otherwise I'd be sleeping in my truck. Jumping in I rest my head for a minute against the headrest. Fuck. There’s no way I can make it up to Sara tonight. Taking out my phone I send off a quick text. Now I’ve got to find a place to sleep before some scoping.
Chapter 8 - Sara
I can feel the vibration coming up through the desk drawer. My fingers itch to reach for it, but I resist the long minutes until the bell rings overhead letting out class. Only having a few minutes before my next group of students start to file in, I grab for it eagerly with a smile, but my smile soon vanishes.
I can’t make it tonight.
The rest of the day seems to drag, and when I do leave for the day, something wanes in me when I don’t see him waiting for me. I know he already said he wouldn’t be here, but I wasn’t expecting to feel this upset about it.
After arriving home I expect to feel somewhat better after the long day, but now that he’s been here in my space there’s an echo of all that we’ve done. Why did I think bringing him here was a good idea? Now that he’s got what he wan
ts he may very well not come back. It was most likely my break down that I had right in front of him! What was I thinking?
Brushing the thought aside I head to the kitchen to fix something quick to eat, and tonight I decide calls for a side of wine. A turkey sandwich, cheese, lettuce, mayo thrown in, and yep red wine. It’s Friday night, I’ve got nothing planned for tomorrow besides grading papers so I think this is exactly what I need. I plop down in front of the TV, eat my sandwich while some trashy movie plays, and wine…there were at least three or four glasses involved before I got really comfortable on my couch.
Somewhere in between Stacy calls. I was at that inebriated state where I would just let loose anything that popped into my head. So she got the good, the dirty and the doubtful concerns that were rummaging through my brain.
I'm not sure what woke me, but at 2:30 am not much phased me, I was going back to sleep, but this time in my bed. Trying to work out the stitch in my neck, I make my way to my bedroom. Deciding to take all my clothes off and turn around to just put more on just to fall asleep was wasteful. So I strip my skirt, my flowy blouse, and stay in the lacy number I had decided to put on before work, thinking I’d have someone other than myself enjoying it and get under the covers. It’s minutes before I’m asleep again.
This time I know what’s woken me, there is an insistent knock coming from my front door, and whoever is standing behind it better have a good reason. It's only 9 am, the only day during the week I get to sleep in, and my drinking last night has given me the most pounding of headaches.
I blindly reach for my robe that hangs by my bed side and throw it over myself. Again with the knocking, whoever it is they will be lucky if they aren’t dead when I get there. I call that I’m coming, but they must not hear me using my inside voice. This time they don’t knock, no they do something much worse. The doorbell, and it doesn’t just go off in my home. My head is pounding to the loud abrasive sound. Picking up the pace to the door, I swing it open. Before I can control my face it’s scowling hard at the person on my front stoop. The squinting that I have to do because of the sun probably doesn’t help the look. Jesus Christ no more wine for me.
“What happened to you?” Vince asks concernedly.
For a long second I could only stare at Vince. In one hand a bouquet of beautiful flowers, and in the other something delicious I smelt from here. My tummy growled. I'm surprised after last night food sounds good at all.
Vince laughed, and I winced, “Oh Sorry,” he began but I held up my hand.
“No need, you didn’t shove that bottle of wine down my throat last night.”
“The whole bottle?” he thankfully whispers.
“Very nearly. Come in,” I left the door open and headed to the kitchen.
“Where are your vases?” he strolls while asking.
“Second cabinet closest to the stove on the right,” I speak quickly.
He sets the box of yummy in front of me, “You should inspect these while I take care of these flowers.”
I nod, but I wait till he starts across the room to investigate. The smell alone has my stomach trying to crawl up my throat, “Oh my god, what are these? They smell so good.”
“Those, my dear are freshly baked pastries from the baker in town. She makes the greatest in all the surrounding counties, at least that is what I’ve heard, and so I bought a variety for us to try.”
He starts to open cabinets even though the flowers are now displayed on the kitchen table in my nicest glass vase, “What are you looking for?” I ask.
“Coffee,” he says.
“Oh god bless you, the cabinet above the coffee maker,” I mumble as I rub my eyes.
He searches the counter, “Which ones the coffee maker?”
“Oh, have you never used a single cup brewer before?” when he looks at me like I’ve grown two heads I get up to show him where the pods were stored and then how to work the machine. He catches on quickly, and by the time he’s done I might have had one too many cups filled but between the two of us it wouldn’t go to waste.
I point to the little pastry in my fibers, “Oh my god these are delicious, which one is this?”
“I think that’s the raspberry ginger muffin.”
“Mhhh so good. What's yours?”
“I’m not sure, here take a bite,” he leans forward toward my mouth.
“Oh my, it tastes like what October should taste like,” stating with a mouthful.
He laughs, and leans back again, “And what should October taste like?”
“Pumpkins, cinnamon spice, and everything nice,” I smile.
“Well then this I suppose qualifies.”
“Do you like the coffee?” I ask.
“I do, if I ever have the spare cash I think I’m going to buy me one of those machines.”
“Well you need to ask yourself, can you limit yourself to one cup a day? Those things add up, the pods I mean. I never seem to have enough for the amount I need.”
“Then it’s not for me, my daily quota never goes below two cups a day.”
“Two is my limit. I’d be too wired if I had any more than that.”
“If you had a teenager under your roof then you’d have a different answer,” he says with confidence.
“You’re right it may very well be,” if things had been different I would have an almost ten year old by now. The thought sobers me, and I’m not quite sure how to get myself to thinking about something else. I turn my head to look over at him to try and discuss something, anything else, and he kisses me. He knows, at least I think he always knows when my mind is somewhere else, and he finds a way to bring me back to him. I’m not sure if it’s him being selfish, but I don’t care, it's exactly what I need.
I groan into his mouth, “Mmmhhh you taste like October and coffee,” I swallow his response as I press further into him, and make our tongues dance.
He pulls away just as things were getting heated, and kisses me on my nose before he straightens once more, “Won’t you tell me what you were celebrating last night that had you drinking a whole bottle of wine?”
“Not celebrating trust me, I thought…never mind it doesn’t matter what I thought.”
“Sure it does. I give a damn what goes on in that mind of yours. Tell me,” he says sincerely.
“It’s silly now, but I thought you were purposefully avoiding me,” I avoid eye contact.
He blinks and says nothing for a long second, “Are you a closet alcoholic? Do I have to worry every time I can’t see you that you’ll drink yourself into a stupor?”
I may very well think about it in the future; But, waking this morning will be a great reminder to drink responsibly. I snort, “No, of course not,” which was true, I'd never be drinking that much in one night again, one or two glasses is my limit.
“Why do I get the feeling to not trust you?” He smirks.
“I’d be asking yourself that question.”
“No I think I’m asking you,” he teases.
“I refuse to become a broken record,” I roll my eyes.
“A broken records of lies?”
I snort, “Jesus you’re suspicious.”
“No, I just have a really good bullshit meter, and you have tells.”
I snort again, “Well aren’t you full of yourself, and what do you mean I have tells?”
“You had several. I am a part of an MC club you know, one of the rules is to not lie to one another, so when someone is stupid enough to do so it’s easy to pick it out.”
“Alright, tell me all knowing one, where did I mess up that you assume I’m lying in the first place.”
“First of all, you paused before answering as if you had to think about your response. Which could have been that you needed a minute to consider, but I doubt it as you're quick on your feet. Your eyes also shifted away from me during your answer. Last but not least you have a tendency of biting your thumb when you are nervous, which I suspect this time you were nervous about your response,” I s
cowl at my thumb, just like the traitor it is. I hadn't even realized I had put it between my teeth. There's only one thing to do now...I stand.
Untying the belt at my waist I let the rest of the robe slide down my body to the floor. His eyes roam, taking in every inch, leaving goose bumps as if he were touching, he licks his lips and rubs his mouth with a hand, and slowly gets to his feet.
“That is a very valid point, but don’t think you’ve won just yet,” he grabs hold of my waist and brings me against his body; we are a breath away from one another. His eyes focus in on mine, “This is an intermission,” his eyes are intense.
Grabbing hold of one of the straps to my bra I tug it down and let it fall. He glances to my strap, and when our eyes reconnect they are ablaze, “again great argument, but no way are we done.”
My hand reaches for the back, unclasping and letting the lacy red fabric fall to the floor. Again his eyes focus on the revealed flesh, this time he doesn’t look back up.
“Fuck it, you win,” his mouth takes in the closest nipple. My head falls back and I let out a victorious groan.
“I like winning,” I can’t help the smile that mingles with the surprised yelp I let out as his teeth nip a little too hard. He quickly licks the sting better but the message is received loud and clear.
“You only won because I like fucking you better. You should learn to win with grace rather than boast,“ apparently he couldn’t just leave it unspoken. I hum in satisfaction, and thrust my nipple back into his open mouth. A second goes by noting his hesitation, but he takes it and lavishes it with attention.
His hand travels down further from my waist to the triangle of fabric covering the apex of my thighs, tangling his fingers in the sides of it, my body tenses thinking of what will come next, but end up shocked when he tears it straight off my body. I had a mind to protest, but his mouth was on mine, my ass in his hands yanking me up along side his body, my legs coming around automatically, and we were heading down the hall. I wish I could say that I finally said something to him when my mouth was released, but instead I realize going commando would be even more effective if ever we had an argument again. I may have to forgo panties all the time to test my theory.
