Wicked

by KB Winters

  “The weirdness sure to follow,” she said and stood, reaching for a package of bar napkins, presumably to clean away the evidence of me dripping down her leg.

  I glanced at my watch and groaned. “I gotta go. Meeting with Gunnar,” I explained even though I didn’t owe her an explanation.

  “Sure,” she snorted and shook her head before she turned away from me. “And I’ve got drinks to sling. See you around, Saint.”

  Not knowing what else to say, I put my cock back in my pants and left the storage room on shaky legs and a still-leaking cock.

  A shit-eating grin curved my lips as I made my way to the Sin Room that Gunnar sometimes called Church. I’d managed to fuck a woman to orgasm with no reminders of the past. No flashbacks. No danger.

  Just pleasure.

  What a fucking concept.

  ***

  “There was another robbery last night,” Gunnar said as his gaze landed on each and every one of us, making sure we all understood the seriousness of the matter now.

  “This time those fuckers sent Edna Mae to the hospital with a broken hip.”

  He bit out another curse and smashed his fist down on the table.

  I understood his anger. Edna Mae was good people. Hell, she was a quintessential small town woman. Widowed for years with more money than she knew what to do with, the woman opened up a yarn and sewing shop where women of all ages gathered to gossip and complain in private. I went in there by accident one day and since then, she’d made me two sweaters, a scarf and a hat because according to Edna, ranch life got cold in winter, even in Texas.

  “Shit. Is Edna all right?”

  All eyes turned to me, some questioning but only Cruz smiled, because he knew the truth. Gunnar nodded. “A broken hip ain’t no walk in the park for a chick her age, but word is she’s already giving the doctors and nurses hell.”

  That made me smile. A world where Edna Mae wasn’t a seventy year old spitfire was a world I wanted no part of. Ever. “What happened?”

  “Those assholes didn’t realize that unlike the other condos in the area, Edna’s is connected to the inside of her shop. She heard the commotion and came down with her shotgun. The recoil sent the old girl tumbling down the last few steps. Hard.”

  It was clear that Gunnar held the robbers responsible more than her age or perceived clumsiness, and I agreed with him. Those fuckers were going down.

  “What do you want to do?” It was time to discuss this as a club, what our options actually were as well as the repercussions.

  “First thing is recon,” Gunnar said simply, his military training kicking in admirably, or maybe it was his years spent as a solider in a different type of army. “We need to get on a regular rotation so maybe we can catch these fuckers in the act. That’s our first priority.”

  Wheeler nodded and leaned back in his chair. “What do we know for certain?”

  Gunnar recapped the robberies in town, the way Big Mac had been roughed up and now Edna Mae, hospitalized.

  “Saint and I went through town the other night and he thinks it’s a group of at least two, maybe four or more.”

  All eyes swung to me, and I cursed to myself, silently wishing Gunnar had just left my name out of it. Calling me a fucking Sergeant at Arms didn’t make it so, didn’t make me any kind of fucking enforcer, not when I was too fucked up in the head to do the job. Gunnar’s blue gaze seared through mine, encouraging me to speak up. These guys were supposedly my brothers, my family. But this was all new to me.

  If I wanted this life then I would have to do more than hope for the fucking best so I took a deep breath and nodded.

  “The front windows are broken but it’s not how they got in so we have to assume it’s a diversion, especially because all the business that’ve been hit, have back entrances with no surveillance and almost no visibility.”

  The Sin Room fell silent for so long my gaze fell to the table and butterflies took up residence in my gut. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, should have just kept my mouth shut and let them figure it out without me.

  Slayer broke the silence. “Hot damn! He speaks!” He accompanied his smartass comment with a wide, satisfied smile.

  Holden’s lips twitched. “We were beginnin’ to wonder aboutcha, boy.”

  I smirked. “I got your boy.”

  I wondered if they thought I was solid enough, stable enough, to be part of their family. Or was it something else?

  “It’s just a guess.”

  “Wrong,” Wheeler said, his gaze serious and sober. “It’s a damn good theory of what happened, and we’ll all keep an eye out for that on shift.”

  Gunnar nodded. “Wheeler and Slayer will take tonight’s shift, and we’ll figure it out for the rest of the week. I want these fuckers found before someone else gets hurt.”

  The unspoken part of that statement was that he—or we—would fuck them up bad when we found them.

  Because we would. Of that I had no fucking doubt. “And the cops?”

  Gunnar grinned and swung his gaze to Wheeler. “Wheeler’s gonna stop by OPD and make a huge donation on behalf of Hardtail Ranch.”

  Wheeler blinked slowly and flashed a knowing grin. “And how big will this donation be, Prez?” His blue eyes filled with amusement as he stared at Gunnar.

  “Big enough that they’ll come running if there’s any trouble out this way.”

  Despite his relative newness as a leader, Gunnar had the skills to get the job done. We’d all had our fair share of useless fucking leaders out on the battlefield, those who had done more to contribute to failure and death than to success, but Gunnar, he was the kind of leader people dreamed about. The kind who would be first to take fire, which made it a hell of a lot easier to take orders from him.

  And he was so fucking cool.

  “On it,” he said and stood, turning a gaze to Slayer. “We’ll leave in an hour. The businesses will all be about to shut down by then, so maybe we’ll get some intel through the Opey grapevine.”

  Slayer laughed. “We’ll get more than that. The women in this town have excellent taste. Young or old, they all love me.”

  We all groaned because Slayer had no problem telling us all how he’d gained his nickname. He was the Pussy Slayer after all—and dammit if he wasn’t right. There were people who could talk to animals, to assholes, to kids. But Slayer had a way with the opposite sex, and I had no doubt he’d get us the info we needed.

  “Well, maybe get the details before you stick your dick in one of ’em,” Holden grumbled and stood beside the door, clearly ready for the meeting to end.

  Slayer flashed a smile and clapped Holden on the back. “Don’t be upset Mah-Dick, you’ve still got the biggest cock around. By a few inches, too.”

  Holden glared at him and pushed him away. “Asshole.”

  “All right, kids,” Cruz shouted with a wide grin. “You all have very pretty cocks. Just not as fine as mine.”

  That started another round of jokes and insults that made me feel, just for a second, that I was right back with my unit, joking around and shooting the shit. Giving each other a hard time because we were men and that was how we related to one another.

  The meeting broke up, and I made my way back upstairs, toward the thumping bass and grinding bodies, toward the far too tempting bartender, all while my thoughts stayed on the robbery crew. They weren’t after drugs, at least not yet since they hadn’t hit the pharmacy, but they weren’t just being a fucking menace. This crew had a goal and until we figured it out, we’d keep on being a step behind.

  That was un-fucking-acceptable.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hazel

  “What in the ever lovin’ fuck?” The drive home from The Barn Door took longer than usual thanks to a few stray cows deciding that the dead of night was the perfect time to go for a stroll in the middle of the road. If not for the mind-melting orgasm I’d had in the storage room and three hundred and seventy-five bucks in tips I made tonight, the next c
razy sight in front of me would have pissed me right the fuck off.

  Police tape stretched from one end of the large picture window that belonged to Edna Mae’s business, Spin A Yarn, all the way to the door that I used to enter my apartment. Which meant my day wasn’t over.

  Yet.

  Fuck. Me.

  The broken glass and police tape were out of the ordinary in Opey, but the flashing lights had me looking up once again to make sure I hadn’t taken a wrong turn and ended up in some alternate universe. Curiosity over what had happened and the old woman’s status warred with exhaustion, and I tiptoed around the back entrance, hoping for a miracle. Where the front entrance was well-lit and difficult to discern if it was a business or private entrance, the back was dark and scary and clearly not a commercial location.

  I climbed the stairs slowly, ignoring the crunch of what was probably a broken lightbulb as I made my way up, on the lookout for any signs of danger.

  “Motherfucker!” Beside Edna’s door, which she only used to stop by and offer me leftovers and unwanted gossip, my own door had been kicked open, leaving splintered wood littering the hall floor.

  “Ma’am?” A young officer with short blond hair and rosy red cheeks stepped out of Edna’s place. “You can’t go in there. This whole place is a crime scene.”

  A crime scene? In Opey? “What do you mean a crime scene, I live here. Where is Edna Mae? Is she all right?”

  The old woman had been nothing but nice and welcoming since I arrived in town, telling me all about her Earle and their life together, her retirement from teaching and even the origins of the town. She didn’t ask a lot of questions either, which made her the perfect neighbor as far as I was concerned.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but someone broke into Edna’s shop and they left a huge mess.” He was saying something else but I didn’t give a shit. Edna was a kind woman and she’d been more helpful than my own landlord, some asshole who didn’t even live in town.

  “Where is Edna?”

  He sighed again. “She broke her hip.”

  “No!” Another of life’s lessons that I’d hoped to outrun. Bad shit always happened to good people who didn’t deserve it while the shitty people went on, enjoying their lives.

  “Shit, poor Edna Mae.”

  The officer flashed a sympathetic smile. “We’re all broken up about it, but I’m afraid you can’t get in there until after the crime scene guys are finished and they won’t be here for an hour. At least.”

  An hour. An hour for a person with tons of friends, or even one friend, was no problem to fill. For me, it meant at least sixty minutes of boredom. And hunger because everything was closed and the only food I had was in my fridge.

  “What about clothes, can I get a change?”

  That sympathetic smile was the only answer he gave. No, I couldn’t get inside the place I’ve been working my ass off to pay for, not until the crime scene guys had come through.

  Just. Fucking. Great.

  “Thanks, Officer.” There was no reason to give him attitude, even though I really wanted to put this frustration on someone. Anyone. Instead I turned around and went back down the pitch black, glass covered stairwell, and made my way out into the chilly, night air. Since I was barely dressed, I slid back into my car and sat behind the wheel for at least fifteen minutes. My mind wandered. To Edna Mae. To work. To Jessie. To the orgasm I had earlier, and especially to the man who’d given me that pleasure.

  With my head bowed on the steering wheel, I took several deep breaths and tried to clear my mind. I could take my tips and grab a few items from the convenience store on the outskirts of town and check into a motel. At least a motel would come with a hot shower and some privacy to satisfy the desire thinking about Saint caused to rise up in me.

  Damn, who knew a man who ran so hot and cold could be so fucking hot?

  A knock on my driver’s side window startled me, and I reached for the piece I kept under the driver’s seat for long drives late at night. I looked up into familiar laughing brown eyes. Long chocolate hair and a matching beard should have made him intimidating, but with his smile and charm, Slayer was just a big presence. I rolled the window a couple inches and arched a brow. “Yes?”

  “What’s going on?”

  I shrugged and gave him a rundown on the Edna Mae situation.

  “She’s my neighbor and they kicked my door in too before they realized I don’t have shit worth stealing. So I’m waiting for the crime scene techs to come and go. What are you doing here?”

  “Just driving by,” he said with a casual ease I didn’t believe for a second. “You know it’ll be more than an hour, right?”

  “Probably, but it is what it is.” Spending my money on a motel was less appealing by the minute. “Don’t worry about me, Slayer, this isn’t the first time I’ve slept in my car.”

  The look on his face turned fierce. “Maybe not, but you don’t need to tonight. We have a bunkhouse at Hardtail with some empty beds.”

  It was a nice gesture but keeping a clear barrier between work and personal was something I was working on. “That’s not necessary. Thanks for the offer, but I won’t be putting anyone out.”

  “Stubborn,” he mumbled under his breath, flashing a smile at me when I glared at him. “Look, you’re not putting anybody out. We have room at the ranch. So no one is moving out for you.”

  That was better, but did I really want to stay with my coworkers? Or worse, my boss’ friends? No, but I also didn’t want to sleep in my car with armed robbers on the loose. “You sure Gunnar won’t mind?”

  Slayer looked over his shoulder, where I noticed the pretty one, Wheeler, talking on the phone. He was as big and rugged as the rest of the guys, but he was so goddamn beautiful it was disturbing. Wheeler gave a short nod and turned away from us.

  “I’m sure,” Slayer said. “He insists, actually.”

  “That would be great,” I said on a sigh. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. We take care of our own.” He winked and took a step back.

  I frowned at his words. “I work for you guys, but I still appreciate the offer.”

  “Since no one else is offering you a place to stay, I’d say you’re one of us. Smartass.”

  I glared at him and he laughed, shrugging in his patented carefree way. “Do you need anything from upstairs?”

  “Plenty, but I can’t get in right now so I’m ready.” As ready as I would ever be.

  ***

  The bunkhouse was, thankfully, empty. And quiet. Though the place was huge, Slayer had put me on the east side of the building which was completely unoccupied save for a few bunk beds. All empty with the mattresses rolled up and no bedding to be found.

  Anywhere.

  It was a nice gesture despite the bareness of it all, and I dropped down on the lone single bed with a loud sigh that seemed to echo in the room. It was four o’clock in the morning, and I still hadn’t been to sleep yet, and worse, it wouldn’t come easy. Or at all tonight.

  Not having a place to stay, to lay my head at night, was really getting to me even though this was nothing like all the other times I’d been homeless in my life. It felt the same, being at the mercy of a stranger’s goodwill, which I knew all too well came with plenty of strings. It made me antsy. Anxious. I stood and paced the length of the room, still in my black ‘fuck me’ stilettos, trying to get my mind and heart to stop racing. Stop spinning.

  To settle the fuck down so I could think straight. A shower, that was what I needed first, but I had no soap, no towels and no clothes to change in to, so I threw myself back on the bed and closed my eyes. Sleep still didn’t come, but I didn’t expect it would.

  “Knock, knock!” A feminine voice sounded, drawing my attention to the hall that connected the east and west wings of the bunkhouse. “Hazel, are you in here?”

  I sat up and then stood, suddenly alarmed. “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

  A beautiful bi-racial woman with wild copper cu
rls came in with two big ass bags and a wide grin on her face. “I’m Peaches, Gunnar’s almost wife. I heard you might need some bare necessities, and I came to help.”

  Peaches. I’d heard a lot about her. She was some expert hacker who’d gotten tangled up with corrupt government agents. The guys had provided her with a safe haven. That was the extent of what I knew about her, and no one had mentioned how beautiful she was.

  “Uh, thank you. This is really helpful at four o clock in the fucking morning.”

  “I’m a helpful girl,” she said and lifted the checkered bag on one of the beds, pulling out bedding that looked soft and clean and comfortable.

  “Gunnar said you were small so my stuff won’t fit you, lucky bitch, but I have some things to get you through the next few days. Or we could get up early tomorrow and go shopping. Whatever works for you.”

  Her smile was welcoming and I felt my shoulders start to relax.

  “Thank you, Peaches. I’d love that, but I can’t spend my tip money until I find out whether or not those fuckers took my stash.” No foster kid ever kept money in the bank because it was easy to take away, and I was no different. I kept a small mobile safe that required a code and a fingerprint to open, but they could have taken it.

  “Your place got hit too?”

  “Don’t know. Couldn’t get in.” The thought that all that money I’d saved over the past few weeks had been stolen made me want to throw up. “Fuck.”

  “No honey, fuck that. We’re going to get your money. Now.” Peaches stared me down with her arms crossed and a serious as fuck expression on her face.

  I wavered at first, but she must have sensed my desperation because Peaches was there when I stepped out of the shower, keys dangling from her fingers.

  “I guess we’re going,” I told her with a shaky but grateful smile.

  Twenty minutes later we had crept into my apartment, which had crime scene tape zigzagging across the entrance.

  “Don’t touch anything but the safe,” Peaches whispered around the tiny penlight between her teeth. She was an expert all right, and her skills went far beyond hacking.