Coal (Regulators MC Book 3)

by Chelsea Camaron

“Guess I’m not dreaming,” she mutters.

  “Pixie,” I say on a laugh. “You’re supposed to pinch yourself to see if you aren’t dreaming, not me.”

  She bats her eyelashes at me. “I really wanna kiss you, Trevor.”

  I freeze. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. This woman has me unable to think.

  She twists her hands in front of her anxiously. “I really wanna have sex with you. You’re all hot and bad boy but soft side all in one. Oh yeah, I wanna rock your world, and I just know you’ll rock mine.”

  “Pixie,” I manage to say in a raspy whisper. “You’re drunk. I don’t do blurred lines; you gotta know that.”

  She yawns. “I’m too tired to be bed rockin’ tonight, stud muffin.” She pats my chest like I’m being dismissed. “Gotta get my beauty sleep.”

  In nothing but a tiny tank top and shorts that show the cup of her ass, she walks away toward her bedroom without looking back.

  Thank fuck. I have never wanted someone so badly in my fucking life. My mind spins like a merry-go-round that won’t stop trying to sort out these desires I never had before.

  I’m in over my head.

  Deep shit.

  Pixie and me are in deep shit.

  ~Paisley~

  Too much.

  Those two words float through my head over and over again. I’m feeling way too much right now.

  Coal slept on my couch last night, but was gone before I ever woke up. Maybe I was dreaming and he didn’t stay. Between my karma being constantly off balance with Coal and being creeped out because I’m being watched, my nerves are overloaded.

  Is it Scotty? He’s never behaved this way before. There is no reason for me to think it’s him, but who else would it be since I mostly keep to myself? My days consist of gardening, teaching yoga, working out, and working at the grocery store. I don’t date. I don’t have enemies. I don’t have a dangerous job or lifestyle. Why would anyone want to follow me?

  Sure, Scotty has been a little more aggressive and he’s always tried to get me to go out with him, but why follow me around?

  Am I crazy?

  Honestly, I don’t even know if I am being followed. It’s just this creepy feeling I have.

  I need a day at home to try to re-center myself.

  Picking up my cell phone without another thought, I call the gym.

  Brandy, the receptionist, picks up after the second ring. “Hello, this is Beach Flex Life; how may I help you?”

  “Hi, Brandy, this is Paisley. I’m not feeling well today; do you think you can get someone else to cover my yoga class?”

  “Sure, Paisley. I’ll get right on that. I hope you feel better.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to do a cleanse. I think that will help. Have a good day.”

  Hanging up the phone, I gather up what I need to do an aura cleanse.

  First, I’m going to start with cleansing the space around me.

  I close my windows to seal the room and then grab my white sage stick. Lighting it, I let the sage burn for a few seconds then blow the flame out, letting the smoke billow around me.

  The cloud of gray blurs my vision then, in time, it clears much like it will do for my energies. Then I walk around my apartment, letting the smoke fill the rooms so it can dissolve the negative energy.

  This is also known as smudging and was a practice the Native Americans used to get rid of negative energies. Many times, as they moved from place to place based on the seasons changing, they would sage their homes. If ever an elder passed on or a war was coming, this was the first step of balance for any of them. The tradition has been passed on for centuries. And I’m a firm believer in the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The practice was good enough for my ancestors, so it’s good enough for me.

  By the time I’m done, I feel relaxed and renewed, but in need of a bath.

  After taking care of my smudging stick, I head for my bathroom. Not bothering to turn the lights on, I light candles instead, and then draw myself a hot bath laced with sea salt.

  Inhaling deeply, I allow my worries to flow out of me on an exhale.

  Salt, nature’s most natural and best cleanser. It opens your pores, draws out impurities, and rejuvenates. Living at the beach, the salt in the air soothes without anyone even realizing that’s what relaxes them, and not their actual vacation. Science has shown the benefits of salt.

  Before I get in the water, I turn on my sound machine, which has different soothing settings. I pick the one of the ocean and put the volume on low.

  Typically, I would take a day and head to the actual beach. No need to waste water. However, since I can’t shake this feeling of being watched, I don’t feel comfortable going out.

  Sinking down into the water, I close my eyes. Rather than allow my insecurities to grow, I blow them out on every exhale.

  Balance. I will find it again.

  Chapter Eleven

  ~Coal~

  “It’s time we did a little more reconnaissance.”

  Hearing Ice’s words, I lose my temper.

  “Fuck reconnaissance! It’s time to put a motherfucker in the ground!” My mind won’t stop replaying how we found Big Jim, and I haven’t slept worth shit since.

  I watch as Ice leans back in his chair at the conference table and crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, it’s definitely time for that, brother. But in case you forgot, we have to figure out who Cook is before we can put him six feet under.”

  “I vote he doesn’t get buried,” Hammer says. “I say, if he likes the idea of food so much, we make him food … for the gators.”

  Ice slaps his hand down on the table, garnering all our attention. “I get you’re mad. Hell, I’m livid. We owe our brother justice, and we’re gonna get it for him. But to do that, we need to make sure we get the right guy so he doesn’t ever kill anyone else again. So, zip your fucking lips and listen up.”

  Our prez gives the two of us a hard stare before continuing. “We’re going back to Billy Bob’s Barbeque, but this time, so we don’t stand out, we’re gonna take the girls with us. Hammer, go home and get Des. I’m going home to pick Morgan up.” Then he looks at me, studying me. “And you’re going to bring Paisley. That way, we’re just three dudes out with our women on a group date. Meet me back here in an hour so we can ride in together.”

  With that, Ice stands up and walks out of the room, leaving before I can protest over taking Pixie with us. Not that I mind spending time with her, but I’m not big on the idea of taking her anywhere near that sick fuck who killed Big Jim. I have to admit, though, Ice’s plan is solid. I also know that the three of us can protect the women while they are with us.

  Looks like I just got another legitimate reason to stay at Pixie’s place for a while.

  Hammer and I both stand up, not saying a word as we leave the office.

  It doesn’t take me long to get to Pixie’s place, and before I know it, I’m knocking on her door again. What I don’t expect is for her to answer in what looks like nothing but a fluffy white robe.

  “What the fuck, woman! Where are your clothes?” I put my hand on her abdomen to push her back, then close the door behind me. “You don’t ever answer your door like this again.”

  Pixie holds up a hand. “Trevor, I just cleansed and re-centered myself and this space. I can’t cover up in restrictive clothing until I feel in place. You will not bring any angry or negative energy into it.”

  “I’ve got not one fucking clue what you’re talking about, woman. But what I do want to know is: what the hell were you smoking? This whole place reeks of it.” It’s not weed. In high school, I smoked here and there, and this isn’t that smell. Maybe it’s those flavored cigarettes that the smoke shop sells or some of that hookah shit everyone raves about. Then again, Pixie is a little quirky, so maybe she got a bad deal on her weed.

  Pixie plants her hands on her hips. “I was not smoking! At least, not the way you mean.”

  I grab her hands off her hips and
hold them in my own as I lean forward to tell her quietly in case her walls are thin and the neighbors are nosey, “Babe, you like to smoke Mary Jane, that’s fine with me; but next time, turn a vent on, yeah? You might want to check your stash because I think it’s stale or something. Smells wrong.”

  A distant memory with my grandfather hits me. I remember what that smell is. A sage stick. I can remember being a little boy, visiting him on the reservation and watching as he lit one and surrounded me with its smoke. Something about cleaning out bad energy. I wonder what bad energy Pixie thinks she has to cleanse her place like this?

  Fuck. What if she thinks I’m bad energy? For someone like Pixie, that would mean a death sentence to whatever it is we are doing here. I’m not saying I’m in love with the woman, but she’s got me hooked, and I want a taste of her. I’m not sure if I can walk away from her now even if she asks me to.

  I have never lost control like this. In fact, I have never felt so strongly about anyone as I do this woman, and I don’t even know why.

  I watch as Pixie gets frustrated then shouts, “Trevor, what are you doing here? Don’t you have to be at work or something?”

  Fuck, but she’s cute when she gets all worked up. It makes me wonder how she would look in all the other ways I can get her worked up. I don’t have time to waste, though, so I need her to get a move on and get dressed.

  “Came by to pick you up for lunch, Pixie.”

  Her face softens as she whispers, “You want to take me out?”

  Running one of my fingers down the side of her face, I say, “Yeah. We’re going out with Ice, Hammer, and their ol’ ladies. So, do me a favor and stow away your sass and get your ass dressed so we can go. I don’t wanna be late.”

  She stands there and stares at me with so much emotion going on in those eyes of hers that I have to look away. Just because she’s got me wanting to taste her doesn’t mean I can give her anything else.

  “Go on and get ready, woman. I’m hungry, and we’re going to be late.”

  I watch as she rushes off upstairs to her loft bedroom. It takes me by complete surprise when she walks down five minutes later, seemingly dressed and ready to go. I thought broads took an hour to get ready to go somewhere. I should have known that wouldn’t be Pixie. She’s so different from all the other women I have known.

  When she stands in front of me, I take in her tight skinny jeans, moccasin slip-ons, and tie-dye T-shirt. The woman screams hippie in this outfit, yet I find her fucking adorable. Reminds me a bit of my mom and her free spirit.

  Grabbing her hand, I pull her along behind me. “Let’s go, woman; I’m hungry.” Which is a lie. I haven’t been truly hungry in days, but no one needs to know how much this Cook case is getting to me.

  I stop long enough to let her lock her front door, and then I grab her hand again and speed walk her to my bike. Even though she was quick about getting ready, there’s no time to waste.

  I strap a helmet to her head then get on the bike and wait for her to get on behind me. She seems a little hesitant at first as she climbs on, but then she quickly settles into the seat and wraps her arms around my middle, holding me tight. Her feet hit the pegs, and her inner thighs press into me as she cocoons around me. Her front presses into my back while I feel the heat of her breaths on my neck, making me … hard.

  Rock fucking hard.

  I inhale deeply, feeling her tension as she settles in behind me. I have never had someone on my bike before. I don’t have a sissy bar for her to lean against. I only have a seat for two because it was more comfortable than the one that came on my Harley.

  I click the gears with my foot, roll backward, and will my cock to tame. Then we hit the open road, and the trembling in her hands stops before I feel her relax behind me.

  It takes a serious minute for me to turn in the direction we need to go, when I can easily drive off and hit US 1 North and take Pixie out on the open road with me.

  I shiver with all the feelings I’m building for this woman. I have never believed in love at first sight, or lust at first sight. Fuck, I don’t believe in love after what Amber did just weeks after telling me how much she loved me. How can I ever trust another woman again?

  Yet, at every turn, Pixie is hell-bent on righting a wrong that was a mere accident. She’s good in a way that I crave. She also has not one clue what I’m capable of. For that alone, she should stay far away from me.

  My cock softens as I remind myself what I may have done in my teenage naivety. Yeah, there’s no way Pixie needs to have her energy tainted by mine. She just doesn’t know it.

  First, we head back to the clubhouse to meet up with Ice, Hammer, and their ol’ ladies on the backs of their bikes. Once there, we don’t even get off my bike. The minute Ice sees us coming, he fires up his motorcycle and slowly starts rolling out. Hammer and I line up side by side to ride behind him as we head over to the barbeque place. When we get there, we park our bikes near the entrance, facing out, in case we need to make a quick getaway with the girls.

  The women all smile and greet each other with hugs as if they haven’t seen each other in ages. Morgan and Des do this all the time, so I suppose it’s normal female behavior. Either that or they are happy to hit the ground after a ride. Whatever it is, I don’t give a shit. I feel too off balance from having Pixie so close.

  As soon as they stop, Ice wraps his arm casually around Morgan, settling his hand in the back pocket of her jeans. Hammer walks behind Desirae with his arms wrapped around her on both sides. Awkwardly, I slip Paisley’s hand in mine to the feel of a zing of electricity. The charge only makes me squeeze her hand, not wanting to ever let go.

  It’s strange, the sensations I feel whenever Paisley is around.

  We walk into Billy Bob’s Barbeque and all eyes turn to us. I’m not surprised. It’s not every day you have a group of bikers walk into a restaurant with women at their side.

  The hostess seats us quickly around two tables that they pushed together for us near the back of the restaurant. I don’t know if they are trying to keep us separated from the rest of their customers, but it doesn’t matter because the positioning allows Ice, Hammer, and myself to keep the whole place under surveillance.

  The waitress comes out quickly to take our orders, and I can tell she’s friendly but nervous. Looking at her name tag, I see that it’s the same waitress that Screech mentioned talking to before. Chrissy.

  “What can I get for you all?” she asks us in a sweet southern twang.

  Pixie and I let everyone order before us. I’m surprised she doesn’t cringe at the meat orders. It sort of impresses me. Then the waitress turns to us, and Pixie orders a salad. She doesn’t bother to hide her surprise when I do the same. I still can’t stomach the idea of eating meat. Just the thought of it makes me think about finding Cook’s victim in the steel drum barrel, boiled; or Big Jim, skewered like he was some fucking piece of meat to put on the grill. I fight back the urge to vomit even thinking about it.

  Salad, freshly green leaves, it has an entirely new appeal.

  ~Paisley~

  Riding on his motorcycle was exhilarating. The way he showed up and said “let’s go” was thrilling and surprising. I didn’t know what to expect. Then, when he took my hand in his, I felt the spark and smiled inside.

  Even though I still feel eyes on me, whenever Coal is around, it quickly disappears. There is a safety that encompasses me whenever he’s present.

  The guys all look around continually scanning the space. Morgan and Des aren’t even aware it seems.

  When he orders a salad, I want to tell him it’s okay to order a steak. However, I decide this isn’t the time or the place to have that kind of conversation. I expected the guys to give him a hard time for his order, but they don’t.

  “I think Scotty is on something,” Des says to me while we are waiting for our meals.

  “He’s a lot more aggressive lately. Yanessa, the new spin instructor, she said he threw a barbell into a mirror th
e other day. He lied, though, and said it slipped out of his grip because he was lifting too heavy a weight.”

  “I don’t know how y’all can spend so much time at the gym,” Morgan pipes in. “I don’t like to be around a bunch of people and feel like I’m being watched. I only go when Drill Sergeant Bust Everyone’s Balls says it’s time.”

  We all laugh.

  “I make sure you get plenty of cardio, and burn calories, all between the sheets, baby,” Ice remarks proudly.

  “And the kitchen table, the counters, the couch, the floor,” Hammer goads his friend.

  It’s easy going being at dinner with everyone and even Coal seems relaxed compared to his usual on guard temperament. The guys are hyper-aware of our surroundings, but they are still engaged in our conversations.

  So this is what it feels like to be with a biker … protected, but still a priority. No wonder, Morgan and Des are so happy.

  Excusing myself to the restroom, I decide Coal could use a little fun in his life.

  As soon as I get around the corner to the hallway where the restrooms are, I see our waitress at her station, refilling drinks, and wave her over.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks politely.

  “Oh, it’s great. I was wondering if I could buy a piece of that pecan pie separate and have you add a candle.”

  She smiles. “Someone’s birthday?”

  “Yup, the bald man in our party. Can you possibly sing to him?”

  “Happy to,” she replies, and then I take off to the restroom so no one can question what I’m doing.

  Returning to the table, I’m nervous, thinking Coal may not like my surprise after all. Before I can think of a way to back out, though, the waitress comes out with two more following her and a whole pecan pie lit up with candles burning. Approaching our table, they begin to sing as Ice, Hammer, Coal, Des, and Morgan all look around in surprise.

  They sit the pie in front of Coal who looks wide-eyed. I give his thigh a squeeze, and his eyes meet mine.

  “Happy birthday,” I say barely above a whisper. “Today is your new day.”