by Jayne Blue
“I’m good. Brax. And it’s good to see you. This place.” She spread her hands and gestured like a runway grounds crewmen. She folded them quickly in her lap again but not before I saw the little tremble. “Your club has done amazing things down here. I never thought I’d live to see the day downtown Lincolnshire would be so vibrant.”
I nodded. “It’s been hard fought. But yeah. We’re moving in the right direction. What’s up, Nic?”
Her eyelids fluttered at the nickname. I guessed maybe no one since high school had called her that. Certainly nobody like me should have even then. It was too familiar. I was rough, dangerous, nothing but a thug. But, none of them knew what I knew about her. That one night, after the last game of the season, the Homecoming Queen, the captain of the cheerleading squad needed something she thought only I could give her.
“I. . . I didn’t know who else to turn to. I probably drove by this place a dozen times afraid to get out. Afraid of what you might think of me if I came in here asking you for what I need.”
Her cheeks colored with a rosy blush that spread down to her chest. It took everything I had not to stare at her there. God. She was even sexier now then she’d been under the bleachers that night. Older, with lines of wisdom near her eyes and curvy hips it looked like she’d earned.
I reached across the desk and caught her hands were she fidgeted with her purse strap. I couldn’t stand it. As much as I liked watching her like this, it wasn’t fair to her. “Nic, what is it? What can I do to help you? I seem to remember telling you once a long time ago that if you ever needed anything, all you had to do was ask.”
She smiled and it damn near melted me. Her shoulders dropped and her lashes fluttered like bird’s wings as her eyes glistened. Then her story came gushing forth. “It’s my kid brother. I don’t know if you remember him. Doug? He was five years behind us.”
I sat back in my chair and nodded, even though I had no idea who the hell the kid was. Why would I? People like Nicole Ridley usually steered way the hell clear of me back then and still do now.
“What’s he done?” I let out a sigh. I’d heard this shit a thousand times. Messed up with dealers probably. If she’d said it was her sister, I could have predicted the problem there too. Caught up with some douche who liked to use her as a punching bag maybe? Yeah. Not my scene. Not back in the day. Not now. I didn’t get involved in other people’s shit. Club business kept me busy enough. Good as it was to see her, this conversation was about to be over quick.
“It’s a long story,” she said. Yep. They always were. Except they always ended the same way. “Doug’s in trouble. The bad kind. He’s a good guy who’s made a lot of mistakes. Look, Brax. I swear to you. I wouldn’t have come here if I had anywhere else to go.”
“Scraping the bottom of the barrel are you?” It was a dick thing to say. I know that. I was about to tell her to go to the cops and leave me out of whatever the hell little Doogie got himself into. But, the way she glared at me and got her back straight. In that instant, I could see what this cost her. She expected me to say something like that and she was ready for it.
“I can pay you.” She fumbled in her purse, pulled out a thick wad of hundreds and set it on the desk. It was a bit of an insult.
I shook my head. “Nicole, look around. That’s not the racket I run anymore. I don’t need your money or the headache of what your brother has probably gotten himself into. It’s been my experience if it’s the bad kind of trouble like you say, he’ll only end up right back there in less than a year.”
She crumbled a little, her lip quivered. But, her eyes flashed steel and she took a breath and straightened her back again, ready to fire at me with both barrels. I wasn’t dealing with a sweet little cheerleader anymore looking for a walk on the wild side. This right here was a grown woman filled with fire and fury. And she wasn’t done with me.
“You were right. I do remember what you told me all those years ago. And I do need something. I wish to God I didn’t. I’ve heard a lot of things about you over the years, Brax. But, no one’s ever said you weren’t a man of your word. I need something from you. I need help. And I’m not stupid. I know you don’t give anything away for free. If you don’t want money, maybe there’s something else you do want.”
She licked her lips. That little blush spread across her chest and deepened to red. Her breasts heaved as her breath hitched. Nicole Ridley might be a lot of things, but like she said, stupid wasn’t one of them. She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them. It wasn’t a blatant invitation. No. But, with the subtle shift in her posture and the glint in her eyes, her meaning was clear. Whatever my price, she was willing to pay it. Slowly, with steady fingers, she opened another button on her blouse. I got a flash of silk, lace and the snow white slope of flesh and tan lines.
“Baby, you sure you want to be in a position to owe me that much?”
She kept her eyes locked with mine and didn’t move. I’d issued a challenge and she wasn’t afraid to rise to it. Fuck, if I didn’t feel my own need rising against my jeans. I can’t help it.
Was I still the kind of guy who could take it from her like that? Again, my mind flashed to that single night. Nicole had been wild, reckless and I still remembered the sound of my name on her lips as she cried out and begged me not to stop.
Yeah. I could be that guy. Remember, I always collect.
To Be Continued in
Brax
(Book 6 of the Great Wolves M.C. Series)
By Jayne Blue
Read on to find out more!
So about Lincoln McCall?
An Excerpt from Lincoln McCall’s Love Story
The Cadillac Motor Court was a one-story, 1950s-era motel. Though it looked old, it was still in decent repair. Someone took good care of it.
Make that one room. She’d booked us one room. I offered to sleep in the truck, but she was pretty pragmatic about it. It was official. This dame was trying to kill me, one way or another.
“I need to save money. And don’t worry, I won’t ruin your reputation and tell anyone. You’ve seen me naked. I think you can see me in my jammies.” I stiffened at the thought of her “jammies.” What hell was this going to bring? She changed in the bathroom and came out sporting a huge white t-shirt that came practically to her knees. It had a black “Dunder Mifflin” logo on it. I was expecting some gorgeous Marilyn temptation, and instead, it was a giant t-shirt from The Office.
She caught what must have been my perplexed expression, “I loved that show! This is my favorite night shirt from it. What?”
I had decided not to tempt fate and took off my shirt but kept on the jeans. I needed a barrier on the small bed, even if she seemed oblivious to the torture that being this close to her in this situation was going to be for me, for any man. She was supposed to be recovering, not romping around.
I decided to lie on top of the covers, too.
“Do you want to watch t.v.?” she asked.
“Up to you. I don’t really watch t.v.”
“I love it. How about some Nick at Night?” She plopped herself on the end of the bed and found her channel. Some old t.v. show was playing, and she said it was perfect.
I closed my eyes and blocked her out, blocked out the damn show, and tried to get a little shut-eye. I fell asleep to the sounds of a laugh track and to little bed bounces she produced as she giggled along with the old sitcom.
I dreamed of her, how her legs would feel wrapped around me, how I would give her the tenderness I’d seen no one display toward her since we’d met. And then it turned from sweet to hot. I dreamt of her magnificent breast in my mouth, of sinking into her. It was beautiful.
And then it wasn’t a dream. I awoke and looked down. The television was still on quietly, and it provided a soft illumination in the room. Marilyn was no longer watching. She’d dozed off, and draped herself over me. She had curled one leg into mine. Her shirt had ridden up around her waist, revealing that round ass in the most modest of white cotto
n underwear. Sexier than any of the thongs I’d seen.
She had found a spot and rested her head perfectly in the juncture of my neck and shoulder. Her breasts pressed softly through the t-shirt onto my chest. She was peacefully asleep and fit with me like no one I’d ever been with.
I pulled her closer, one hand resting just inside those cotton panties, just barely. I wouldn’t go further. She moaned in her sleep and snuggled closer in. She nuzzled her lips on my chest and goddamn it then she kissed me. Though she was asleep, she was maybe having the same dream.
“Hmmm. Lincoln.” She murmured my name in her sleep. If the sitcom actor could see through the decades to right now, through the television screen, he would have seen a contented smile on my face as I too returned to dreamland, wrapped up in her.
Check out Lincoln McCall’s wild romance!
Before You Go
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Jayne Blue
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Did you like Cassidy in Sawyer? Read Cassidy and Craddock’s love story...
Excerpt from Hold Trilogy
Cassidy
What do you wear to work when you’re a receptionist at an MMA gym? At the restaurant it was easy, when she bussed tables it was black pants and a t-shirt, and then they gave her a polyester dress to wear after she got promoted to waitress. But now? It’s not like there were many choices. The studio had a small closet and her entire “wardrobe” hung inside along with her coat.
She did a quick inventory: A couple of pairs of jeans, turtlenecks, a sweater, a dress, and so few pairs of shoes. She could pack her entire closet into one suitcase. The few nice things she had were hand-me-downs. Again she owed Bess. Bess was taller by several inches, but she’d cleaned out her “work” closet and handed the extra clothes to Cassidy. That’s why she even owned a skirt. There was also one dress that Bess insisted on, it was the “little black” dress she wore when she graduated high school and only Bess attended.
She decided jeans it was if Whitey wanted her to dress nicer he’d tell her. Maybe it was time for a trip to Goodwill for some stuff? Wearing different clothes was an expense she didn’t want to deal with and hadn’t realized she’d face until this very moment.
It would be a cold walk, but the gym was hot so she went with belted jeans, a blouse, her boots and the duster under her coat. Whitey didn’t seem to be one to worry about that sort of thing so she hoped it was okay.
Wardrobe handled she rifled through her kitchen, which was really a sink, a mini-stove, and a small fridge. Saving money also meant skipping meals. She’d lost weight in the two weeks since the restaurant closed since she could usually get some free food at that job. Today she had a packet of cup-a-soup and an apple. Free food was definitely something she’d taken for granted after it was gone. She filled a water bottle and figured she was set for the day.
The GWG was a ten-minute walk. In the daytime, this was no big deal. At night, well, she wouldn’t tell Bess that one.
Whitey greeted her when she arrived.
“Good morning girlie,” he said with his gravelly voice as he assessed her desk area.
“Is eight too late?” She worried since it looked like things were well underway in the gym. Fighters dotted several areas already.
“I always get in at 5 to open. You can help me by getting in at 8 and staying later than I do to close. I could get home in time to make Mrs. Whitey happy for a change.”
“Okay.”
“So here’s the job, most days I’m too busy to tell you what to do. Today I will. After this, you figure it out most of the time.”
“Got it.”
“You set these computers up and then these files,” Whitey indicated a file cabinet that was as tall as she was, “They need to be uh, dig ah, digee? What’s the word?”
“Digitized?”
“Yep, that paperless thing the GWG bosses want. You’re going to make sure the members’ cards get swiped. That’s new, the cards, and you’ll make sure they’re paid up, handle their forms, answer phones, help get the word out on events and just deal with GWG corporate. My grandson was doing a bunch of this stuff, but he’s got to focus on training. That’s him over there.” Whitey pointed to a short, stocky fighter rapidly hitting a punching bag.
“Jessie, wave to Cassidy!” Whitey bellowed. The fighter lifted a gloved hand towards her in salute.
“Now back to work.” Whitey barked at his grandson.
“We got a lot of siblings, father-son, and such in here, fighting runs in families.”
“I see.”
“I’m going to get over to the ring, if you have a question, ask. And here’s the number to the guy to talk to from GWG management, Sawyer. It’s California so they won’t be up for what? Is it three hours? Who the hell knows?”
“I’ll get going.”
“Good. There’s a hook over there for your coat. And we got a fridge and microwave in the back. Though it don’t look like you eat at all, girlie.”
“I do fine.” Whitey narrowed his eyes at her and turned to the two in the ring. It was clear he didn’t miss much.
“You two. Is that the intensity I can expect today? You look like you’re under water. Step it up.” Whitey walked to the ring and it was then that Cassidy noticed who was in it — Craddock and another guy that looked nearly as dangerous. Most of the men in this placed looked like they could remove your limbs with their bare hands.
Cassidy watched as the slow sparring Whitey complained about got fast and violent. She was transfixed as Craddock Flynn jabbed and charged while his opponent tried to fend him off. He backed his sparring partner up against the ropes and paused. Craddock looked her right in the eyes and finished it. A punch to the jaw had his sparring partner with his hands up and in what was a purely defensive stance.
“Okay, okay, no need to kill him. Jonesy, you step over to the bags. Craddock, get some water, then partner up with Jessie after he’s warmed up and work on your holds a little. I want to see if you’re finishing that choke or not.”
Whitey was barely done giving the orders when Craddock Flynn jumped out of the ring and strode across the gym to where Cassidy was trying to pretend they hadn’t locked eyes.
“Good morning, Cassidy. You look gorgeous today.”
“Good morning, and don’t you think gorgeous is a little bit of an overkill in the compliment department?”
Gorgeous? She blushed pretty much everywhere. This man’s lines worked on her, she realized. Even if she was working hard not to show it.
“You are. I like your hair like that in a bun, like mine. Though I liked it down yesterday, too.” She touched a tendril that had escaped.
“You going into hairdressing if this fighting thing doesn’t work out?” She was trying to keep a tough exterior around him. Though he looked like the toughest thing in the city, she had her own brand of tough. She figured she better use it or be another notch on this guy’s fight belt.
“No. I’m just into your hair. A lot of it there for such a little packag
e underneath.” She was embarrassed. He probably fawned over the big-boobed, booty-shaking types. She was more in the Anna Kendrick size department.
“I do just fine.”
“I bet. And you look just fine. See you later, Cassidy. Oh, and thanks for watching me work out. I like it. You looking at me turns me on.” Craddock winked, then turned and headed to the mat where they were working on what was the word? Oh yeah, grappling. She inferred that meant wrestling. He really did love himself. But unfortunately, he was right. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She spent the morning getting the computer set up. By mid-day, she had it up and running. She took a phone call with the California manager of GWG, Sawyer, on what they wanted regarding membership and other forms online. She even started entering membership information on each fighter who worked out there. Once they were all in, all they’d need is a new magnetic card to swipe.
Whitey came over at one point to check on her.
“You came in on the right day. I was getting heat to get this stuff done and now you’re almost finished!”
“We can start issuing the cards tomorrow and by the end of the week everyone will just swipe and we’ll be able to keep track without all the files cabinets.”
“Good work. You’re a smart little cookie. Pretty as a picture too. Anyone too fresh?”
“No, sir. I’m fine.” She decided not to let him know that Craddock kept catching her eye and looked like he would eat her alive. Along with that, she’d had winks from quite a few of the other guys, the terms sweetheart, hottie, and darling were flung at her from all directions. She decided it was part of the job and harmless. She’d told them her name was Cassidy, not sweet cheeks, and that usually took care of it. Except in Craddock’s case.
