Lucky: The Irish MC

by West, Heather

  “Do you expect me to do this by myself?” I asked out loud, stomping the ground. My voice echoed off the dusty boulders and hills. There was no answer. If the old man up the hill heard me yelling, he gave me no sign whatsoever. “Fuck!” I cried out in frustration, kicking at a rock. It was heavier than I expected and a bolt of pain shot through my foot. Crying out, I grabbed my wounded foot and hopped around. Tears sprang to my eyes and I cursed loudly.

  Stop being pathetic, I thought in irritation. If you want to fix this and go home, just unload the goddamn cargo yourself. I stood and breathed in deeply until the ache in my foot was beginning to subside. It hurt whenever I put weight on it, but I knew that it likely wasn’t broken. I was all smiles and confidence until I yanked open the cargo gate of my rig and saw the sheer size of the carton. This is going to take some serious strength, I thought with a frown. What the fuck happened to those guys who were supposed to meet me?

  With a sigh, I hauled myself up and into the back of the truck. The carton was the only thing that I was carrying, and while it took up an immense amount of space, I was struck with a weird, abandoned sense. I wasn’t used to seeing my truck this empty. It really hit it home that I was finally at the end of a long run.

  Warily, I circled the cargo box. There were holes in the top but they weren’t big enough to be air holes. I remembered when I’d asked if a gorilla was inside. Jimmy had given me the weirdest look imaginable. As I approached the crate, I tripped on a small piece of metal and went flying. I landed on my hands and knees on the bed of my truck and cried out in pain. Somehow, my foot had twisted and I clutched it to my chest and howled, rocking from side to side.

  From inside the shipping carton, there was a loud noise, like a whoop. Or a shout. I jumped to my feet in terror and backed away from the carton. Whimpering, I stared at it. There was no more noise, the crate was silent. Maybe it had just been something outside, and I’d thought it was coming from the carton. Swallowing hard, I peeked outside. No one there. Twilight was coming on strong, and I shivered as a strong gust of air blew into the truck. It tugged my shirt up and made a mess of my hair. Blinking, I turned back to the carton.

  I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t ever supposed to open cargo under any circumstances, but this seemed like an exception. And if I didn’t act fast, I’d be trapped in the yard for the night. Even though I’d spent months on the road, the idea of spending one more night away from home was torture. I knew that I had to find out whatever was in that box. Maybe it was nothing, but the noise had really scared me. As quietly as I could, I hopped out of the back of the truck and scurried back around to the cab. I always kept a crowbar on me, and I had to dig around for it under the seat. Months of empty soda cans and juice bottles knocked against my hands as I dug for it. Finally, my hand closed around cold metal. I brought the crowbar to my chest and stalked back to the back of the truck. For some reason, I was almost surprised to see that the carton was still there. It was like part of me had expected it to grow legs and wander off on its own.

  As I climbed back into the bed of the truck, I hoisted the crowbar high. It seemed silly to be so afraid—the carton was nailed shut. I knew that whatever was inside wouldn’t exactly be able to burst out and get me. But still, I felt like I should be exercising a lot of caution. I stalked around the carton slowly, trying to discern what was inside. There was no sound whatsoever. Even when I jabbed the side of the box with the crowbar, it was silent. Finally, I was sick of waiting. I pried open the top, then one of the sides. It was dark, and all I could see was a tangle of shadows. Stepping away from the carton, I brandished the crowbar in front of me.

  “If you try anything, I’ll kill you,” I hissed as I swung it from side to side. “What’s going on in there?”

  There was a sound like a low chuckle or a growl in the dark. I jumped and cried out in fear, swiping the crowbar from side to side. If anything came at me, I was sure I’d be able to defend myself. I wasn’t the strongest person in the world, but years of trucking had made me quick. For a moment, there was nothing. I shivered and shook in my boots as I swiped the crowbar back and forth in front of me. Even if there was only a little puppy inside, I didn’t want it thinking for a second that it would be able to overpower me. After all, I was the one who was in control here. This was my rig, this was my run. And this is my time, too, I thought with a flicker of irritation. If those assholes had actually shown up on time to collect their cargo, I wouldn’t still be waiting here.

  From inside the crate, there was a grumbling sound. I jumped up in the air and backed away as far as I could. This sure as fuck wasn’t a puppy. There was a scraping and a rustling and I opened my eyes wide as a man stepped out of the crate. He had to be at least six feet tall, and his biceps were bigger than my head. He was covered in tattoos and had scruffy blond hair that hung a little longer than it should. He looked at me and grinned. I felt my heart seize up. Then, unbelievably, he let out a long wolf whistle and stepped out of the crate. His eyes searched my body, prying at every nook and cranny of my skin. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious about my ripped up jeans and t-shirt. I wished I was wearing something nicer, or that I’d taken the time to shower in the past couple of days.

  “Hey there, honey,” he said with a lazy grin on his face. Something inside of me began to melt against my will. When he stepped further into the dim sunlight, I saw bands of black ink crossing his arms. He was clad in dark engineer trousers and a white tank top, and his tan skin practically glowed against the cotton.

  “Stay away!” I cried, shaking the bar in front of me. “Don’t try anything!”

  The man grinned at me. “Honey, calm down,” he said in a slow, syrupy voice. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said. “I just want to stretch out. Can I do that, or are you planning to give me a new orifice?” He gestured to the crowbar that I was still clutching so hard my knuckles were white.

  “Fine,” I said in a shaky voice. What the fuck was this? What the fuck was some pervert doing in the back of my truck? It was almost comical, like a rough, fucked-up version of Christmas morning. A very adult version of Christmas morning. I shuddered as I watched the man hop down onto the ground with a surprisingly graceful hop. He stretched out and turned back to face me.

  “Honey, you’re a good little actress for one of the girls,” he said.

  I frowned. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  He laughed and put his hands up again. I was astounded at their size; he could have crushed my skull like a walnut. The crowbar in my hands suddenly felt light and flimsy, but I still didn’t throw it away. Even though he hadn’t tried anything yet, I had no guarantees for the future.

  “Alright, alright, they didn’t send you,” he said, chuckling.

  I glared. He was gorgeous, but already one of the cockiest assholes I’d ever met. Bristling, I remembered why I didn’t like being around men.

  “What were you doing in there?” I asked casually. “Hiding?”

  He laughed shortly. “None of your business, brownie,” he said. I felt a blush emerge beneath the surface of my face. “So, you wanna take me for a drink? I’ve been locked up for a hell of a long time.”

  He smiled at me again and I felt an unfamiliar feeling coil up in my lower belly. It wasn’t exactly pure lust, like I’d felt in the dream, but it was powerful nonetheless. As it grew stronger, I realized how incredibly attractive this stranger was. He was one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen. Just looking at his veiny hands made me shiver with delight and anticipation. But there was no way in hell he could ever want someone like me, no matter how much he was smiling like that.

  “You must not have seen a woman for a long time,” I said drily. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t normally be quite so thirsty.”

  “I’m plenty thirsty,” he said in a gruff voice. “Aren’t you?”

  Chapter Four

  Mickey

  Am I dreaming? I wondered to myself when the gorgeous, lithe little brunette pulled open the
carton. She gazed at me with a mix of horror and surprise, and instantly, I knew it. Thank you, god, thank you, Mason, thank you, Jimmy, I thought, closing my eyes and tilting my head back in pleasure. As soon as I saw her, I knew they must have arranged to put her in the back of the truck as a surprise for me. I grinned. Sure, I would have maybe liked a little time to take a shower. But I wasn’t going to say no to pussy, especially not to gorgeous little brunette pussy. Whoever this girl was, she was hot in kind of a tough meets girl next door sorta way. She was short and petite with long brown hair in a braid that was snaking over one shoulder. I could see pert nipples poking through the thin material of her t-shirt, and instantly my cock sprang to life inside of my pants. Her small hips and firm, rounded ass generously filled a ripped up pair of old jeans. I imagined ripping her clothes off, how pale and soft her little body would be. I imagined her howling and crying in pleasure as I savagely bit and kissed her nipples. Closing my eyes, it was hard not to slip my hands into my pants and grab my cock. I wanted to bring it out for her to kiss.

  “So, who the fuck are you?” she asked. She still hadn’t dropped the crowbar, and the way she was hopping from foot to foot was adorable. I wanted to scoop her up and bury my tongue between her legs until she was screaming.

  “You’re a coy little wench,” I observed gruffly. Delicious pink flushed over her face and she shook her head.

  “Who are you?” the girl demanded. Her voice was both high and scared, and for the first time, I had an inkling of doubt about whether or not she was a present from the club. “Tell me,” she said, swinging the crowbar again. When it swung in front of my face, I grabbed it with one hand and yanked it away from her with surprising ease. The girl cried out in shock and indignation and I laughed.

  “You need to relax, honey,” I told her. “Mason and Jimmy shoulda warned you about me, but I promise I’m not that scary when you get to know me.” I grinned at her. “That is, unless you want me to be scary.”

  She blinked. “Mason and Jimmy?”

  “Yeah, honey,” I said. “The guys who told you to meet me here.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “No, no, that’s not what happened.”

  I felt a lick of discomfort slide through my body. “What are you talking about?” I squinted at her. “Mason and Jimmy sent you to give me a little coming home present. It’s okay, baby, I’m used to women like you. Now why don’t we go somewhere that’s a little more comfortable. Did the trucker leave yet?”

  The girl glared at me. She stepped closer and swung her hand back to slap me, but I caught her wrist mid-air. She struggled against me—the fragile bones in her wrist were birdlike, hollow-feeling—but eventually dropped her arms to her sides and crossed them against her chest. The motion made her succulent little tits stand out and I licked my lips and stared at her.

  “Mason and Jimmy didn’t send me,” she said in a hollow voice. “I was the trucker. I was supposed to meet someone here and unload, but I waited for almost an hour and no one showed up.”

  Now it was my turn to blink at her and look confused. “Mason and Jimmy should be right outside,” I told her confidently. “They might be hiding, I dunno, maybe they felt you were a threat.” I looked at her. She was obviously trying to hard to look tough, and it was adorable. She glared at me with big brown eyes and worked her little pink mouth in a scowl. Even though I knew she was off-limits for now, part of me still wished she’d been a present from the club. I knew her skin would taste pink and sweet, and I imagined she’d be a real wildcat in bed. She looked like she could use a good pounding; I desperately wanted to be the man for the job. There was something tense, something sexual about her energy, and my cock was practically half-erect just from the scowl she was giving me. I imagined her smiling and that sent my erection into overdrive. Just one little touch, one fuck, I thought dreamily. Come over here and let me spank that juicy ass of yours.

  “What?” the girl demanded loudly. “Did you not hear me? I said, tell me who the fuck you are!”

  “Don’t be so loud, honey,” I told her. “And it doesn’t matter who I am.” I grinned at her. “I’m your cowboy, aren’t I?”

  The girl shook her head but I could tell the gesture was hesitant. “You’re not anything to me,” she said coldly. “Now find your friends and get the fuck out of here.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” I said, holding my hands and striding towards her. I could see her chest vibrating with the fast beat of her heart and I longed to press my face between her breasts and close my eyes. “Calm down. I think something went wrong.”

  “Obviously,” she snapped. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I was supposed to meet someone down here and they never showed. I should have been home an hour ago!” She stamped the ground with a surprisingly childlike gesture and I saw that there were tears in her eyes. Suddenly, I felt bad for her.

  “So you’re really the driver of this rig?” I slapped the side of the massive semi. “Seems like a big truck for such a little girl.”

  “I’m not a girl,” she replied caustically. “I’m thirty-one.”

  I feigned surprise. “Wow, you are old,” I said. Predictably, her face turned to one of murderous rage. She came at me with her claws out and I grabbed both of her wrists with one hand and held them over her head. The effort was enough to make her stand on her tip-toes and the hem of her shirt flew up, exposing a pale, taut strip of flesh above her jeans. Lust flared through me as I stared at the skin, imagined biting into it and sliding my face down into her pussy. I could almost smell her from here: sweet, musky, powerful. She smelled like she was hot for me, and suddenly I knew that if I made a move, she wouldn’t scream.

  “Well, nice to meet you, Ms. Not A Girl,” I said with a smirk. “My name’s Mickey. Mickey Jameson.” I released her and held out my hand to shake. The girl made a big show of scowling and rubbing at her shoulders. She didn’t take my hand.

  “Ella,” she mumbled. “Ella Riley.”

  “Oh, an Irish lass,” I said with a faint note of disappointment. Sure, Ella was a gorgeous, sexy little brunette. But I’d had enough of Irish pussy. I was craving some hot American little thing, in the worst way possible. Thinking about Ella pushing me away from her crotch or making me fuck her in the darkness was enough to make me go soft.

  “I’m not Irish,” she protested hotly. “I’m American!”

  When the vigor came back to her tone, I chuckled. Seemed like she wasn’t a little Irish pushover after all.

  “So, Ella,” I said, throwing her one of my most charming smiles. “I think I’d like to get a drink somewhere. You feel like joining me?”

  Ella’s face was unreadable. “Shouldn’t we look for your friends?” She looked around nervously and rubbed her bare arms. I saw goose bumps on her perfect skin and shifted out of my jacket, handing it over. She stared at me for a second before taking it and pulling it on hurriedly. She looked adorable in my jacket; it was so oversized that she looked like a kid in her parent’s clothing.

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “Come on.” Ella shook her head.

  “I’m not leaving the rig,” she said. “You go. I’ll stay here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, brownie,” I told her with a grin. “I’ll do just that.”

  Ella stayed rooted to the spot as I walked away, scouting among the boulders and hills for two bikes and Mason and Jimmy. I scratched my head; they really shouldn’t have been hiding. I had a feeling they weren’t doing it to punish me. And if they didn’t send that girl, what were they really doing? It wasn’t like we’d had an ambiguous plan. They were supposed to meet me, unload me, then smuggle me off to the clubhouse for a night of carousing. The sun was almost completely down but the ground was glowing a pale brown in the dark. I loved the desert. I loved Dos Palmos, and I loved being home.

  But something didn’t feel right. As I scouted, I called out, “Mason! Jimmy! Stop fucking around and get me out of here!” But there was no reply, and my voice only echoed am
ong the rocks and crevices. Frowning, I jogged to the edge of the yard. There was a chain-link fence and it had been cut with a pair of wire-cutters. When I looked at the edges of the metal, I realized the cuts must have been done recently. They hadn’t had a chance to rust at all, and the edges were still perfectly sharp. Frowning, I looked around. I thought that maybe they’d shown up, cut the wires, then walked off to piss in the boulders or gotten lost or something. But that wasn’t like them, especially not now. Jimmy and Mason had known that we’d had a plan, damnit, and now I was starting to worry that something was wrong.

  The moon was coming up over the horizon when I looked back towards the rig and spotted Ella walking around in circles. Dust was flying up from her boots and she looked both irritated and confused. When she saw me staring at her, she looked up with a scowl on her face. But once I grinned at her, the scowl turned into an unreadable expression. She almost looked excited, or scared. Maybe this little honey wants a piece of Mick after all, I thought wickedly. And I’d know just how to give it to her, too.