Justice for Mickie

by Susan Stoker

  He began to put the phone back into his pocket so he could call her back later when Roach said, “Why don’t you answer it, Smoke?”

  Not having a ready excuse and knowing it’d look weird if he didn’t answer, Cruz merely shrugged. “Didn’t want to bother you all with a conversation with my latest pussy, that’s all.”

  Realizing he was making a mistake and there was no way this call could go well, but feeling pressured to answer, Cruz clicked to pick up the call.

  “Yo.”

  “Hey, Cruz. I was wondering if you wanted to get together tomorrow? I have to work, but we could meet for lunch.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Oh, okay. Tomorrow night maybe?”

  Cruz could hear the confusion in Mickie’s voice. She’d gone from happy and bubbly to uncertain, and all it took was one word from him. Cruz wished he could fucking kill all four men who were now openly listening to his conversation.

  “Nope. Can’t then either.” Cruz tried to keep his part of the conversation short, in the hopes Mickie would end the call before he said something she couldn’t forgive him for.

  Before Mickie could say anything else, Camel called out, loud enough for Mickie to hear, “You need some dick, baby? I’ve got some, say the word, beg for it, and I’ll be right over!”

  The other men laughed, loudly.

  “Uh…I guess I called at a bad time.”

  “Yeah, I guess you did.”

  “He’s fucking busy, bitch! Leave him the fuck alone. If he wants your pussy again, he’ll come to you. Now hang the fuck up already.” That was Vodka. He was a hard bastard and never pulled any punches.

  Cruz heard Mickie’s inhalation. Her voice was wobbly as she said softly, “I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed today. That’s all. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  Cruz clicked off the phone at hearing the dial tone. Fuck. Double fuck. He knew Mickie was probably remembering how she’d begged him to fuck her and most likely thought he’d blabbed about it to his “friends.”

  He didn’t have to fake the scowl on his face as he turned to Vodka. “Thanks a lot, asshole. Now I’ll have to work double-time to get back in there.”

  “Fuck it, man. No pussy’s worth that.”

  “It is when I’m not allowed to have club pussy.” Cruz knew he was treading on a thin line with that statement, but he couldn’t let Vodka think he could push him around.

  “I could talk to Ransom about that.”

  “Whatever, man. Ransom isn’t going to let prospects fuck club pussy, and you and I both know it. Just shut the fuck up about it already.”

  Bubba laughed. “I’m sure you can make it up to the bitch later. After we get back and let Ransom know what went down tonight you can go to her, make her suck your cock and she’ll be begging for you to give it to her again.”

  Cruz hated that he grew hard at Bubba’s words. It wasn’t his words, making someone take him in her mouth didn’t do anything for him…at all, but remembering how Mickie had begged him to fuck her that got to him; that and the thought of her on her knees sucking him off. And that made him remember her smell, the feel of her clenched around him, and how she’d blushed when they’d finally gotten out of bed that afternoon and she’d looked at the huge wet spot they’d left on the sheets.

  Seeing his erection and misinterpreting the cause, Bubba sneered, “Liked that, huh? There’s hope for you yet, Smoke.”

  Cruz just lifted his chin in response and kept quiet. He tried to think about anything but Mickie in his bed, at least until he could get the hell out of the MC clubhouse that night. Then all bets were off.

  They pulled into the warehouse district and climbed out of the van after Kitty stopped at the back loading dock. They all headed inside to report back to Ransom about Chico Malo and Axel.

  The only thing Ransom said when Bubba told him what Axel had warned was, “He’s not the only supplier around here. If he wants to get into a war on my turf, he’ll get a fucking war.”

  Cruz mentally shook his head. What a conceited asshole. There was no way Ransom would win a war against Chico Malo and his thugs.

  “Oh, and Smoke here wants a piece of club pussy,” Roach teased.

  “No fucking way,” Ransom growled. “Club pussy is just that, club pussy. When you’ve proven you’re a part of this MC, you can have club pussy. Until then, keep your dick in your pants.”

  Everyone laughed and Cruz scowled at Roach.

  “He’s just pissed because the bitch he’s screwing called and got upset,” Bubba explained after they’d stopped laughing.

  Cruz’s gut clenched at Bubba’s words. He didn’t like to hear Mickie referred to as “the bitch,” even if Bubba didn’t know who he was talking about.

  “I got it, Smoke,” Ransom said seriously. “Angel’s bitch-face sister is still on her case. Why don’t you fuck her to get her off her sister’s back? We need that money to expand business. I’m not going to lose it at this stage in the game to some cunt who has mommy issues.”

  If Cruz thought he was tense before, it was nothing to how he felt now. Every muscle in his body clenched and it took everything he had not to jump the man and beat the shit out of him. Luckily, before he could do something stupid, Roach chimed in.

  “Yeah, although you’ll have to close your eyes. Heard she’s short and fat. But I guess pussy is pussy, right? You could always do her doggy style, then you wouldn’t have to look at her.”

  “I’m not fucking the sister because you want to get her out of the way,” Cruz said shortly, forgetting for a second the role he was playing.

  Ransom was out of the chair he’d been sitting in and had punched Cruz in the face before he could defend himself.

  Cruz immediately picked himself off the floor, ignoring the throbbing coming from his face. Ransom threw a mean punch.

  Knowing hitting the president of the club back was tantamount to suicide, Cruz controlled himself…barely. He clenched his teeth and bit back the angry response on the tip of his tongue.

  Ransom sat back down as if he hadn’t just punched Cruz. He calmly said, “If I tell you to fuck someone, you’ll do it. Loyalty to One, or have you forgotten already? Don’t think for a second, Smoke, I don’t have my eyes on you. You’re new here. I don’t care if one of Snake’s boys vouched for you. I don’t trust anyone, and that goes double for prospects. I was only half kidding anyway. I don’t think that bitch of a sister of Angel’s even likes cock. She’s probably a muffer.”

  Cruz forced himself to stay calm and not lose his shit. It was better Ransom thought Mickie was a lesbian. Maybe that way he wouldn’t order any of the other members to get it on with her to keep her out of Angel’s business. Cruz knew, as well as everyone standing around, that if Ransom ordered someone to fuck Mickie, they would, no questions asked, whether she was willing or not.

  “I’m loyal, Ransom, but I’ll find my own pussy, thank you very much.”

  “Just remember what I said, Smoke. You’re loyal to me, or you’ll be loyal to no one ever again.”

  Cruz nodded once and turned and left. As a threat, it was pretty impressive. Cruz knew that however this went down, he’d have to make damn sure Ransom and the rest of the club had no idea he was undercover. They’d spend the rest of their lives trying to take him down, along with anyone he cared about.

  He couldn’t handle being around anyone in the club anymore. Each day it was getting harder and harder, and now that he had the information he needed, Cruz hoped like hell his stint with the MC would be coming to an end.

  After he spoke with his boss, he had to figure out how to make it up to Mickie. They’d had an incredible afternoon, and he prayed it hadn’t been ruined with one short phone call.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mickie blew her nose and tried to think objectively about what had happened yesterday. She’d called in sick today, knowing there was no way she’d be able to deal with disgruntled customers complaining about how much it cost to fix their cars.<
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  When she’d heard his friends during their call yesterday, it was obvious he’d told them all about what they’d done. Intellectually she knew men talked with each other about stuff…especially sex. But she hadn’t expected Cruz to be as crude as he’d been.

  The short conversation didn’t make any sense with what she knew about him. He was in security. He had the initials of a long-ago murdered little girl on his arm. He told her he wanted to do what was right for the families of crime victims. It all was a confusing mash of memories in her brain. The man she’d spent the afternoon with didn’t mesh with the one she’d talked to on the phone. Who would hang out with the kind of men who’d use such harsh language and brag about…fucking…loud enough for someone they didn’t know on the other end of a phone line to hear? Were those the coworkers he was going to talk to about the MC?

  But ultimately, it was Cruz’s behavior that hurt her more than any words the other men had said. She’d thought they’d made an honest connection. She’d never been so uninhibited and passionate—and he’d gone and bragged about it.

  He’d sounded so different, ugly. Mickie had never heard him talk to her in that tone of voice before. It made her feel…small.

  Well, fuck him. She wasn’t going to sit home and sniffle over him anymore. She wasn’t taking any crap from a man ever again. She was worth more than that.

  Mickie sighed. She knew it would take more than an internal pep-talk for her to get over Cruz. She’d really been falling for him. It was everything about him. He was funny, and interesting, and she’d never known a man so…amazing in bed. That wasn’t really the word she was looking for, but it’d do. He’d been concerned about her, and only her. At least until the end and his own orgasm. But to have him make her explode that many times in one go? Incredible, and something she thought only happened in romance novels.

  To be honest, she wasn’t sure she’d liked Cruz’s intensity at first. One orgasm was fine, great actually, but when he wouldn’t let up, even when she’d told him she was too sensitive…it had been pleasurable, but in a somewhat painful way. She’d seen a video online once where a woman had been strapped down and her boyfriend, or whoever he was, had forced her to orgasm over and over with a vibrator. It had looked painful…and exhilarating. Mickie understood for the first time how that woman must’ve felt. Luckily, Cruz had stopped after four for her, but she had no illusions. He could’ve gone on all day.

  No. She had to stop.

  Mickie got up and took a deep breath. Then another. Fine. She could do this. She’d take a shower then go see Angel. She hadn’t talked to her in a few days, so she’d stop in, find out what she was up to, and see if she’d found another job.

  An hour later, Mickie was ready to go. She grabbed her purse and opened her door—and stopped dead in her tracks.

  Seeing the box on her doorstep took her aback. She nudged it with her toe and felt that it wasn’t heavy.

  Mickie looked up and down the hallway to the apartment. No one was there. She sighed. It could be another way for the MC to try to scare her, she imagined a dead rat or something being inside, but since it had a large pink bow on it she figured it was most likely from Cruz. Mickie had no idea who else would leave her a present. She picked it up and brought it back inside her apartment. She debated about opening it before going to see Angel. Knowing she’d never been good at waiting, Mickie reached for the bow and pulled and tugged on the top of the box.

  It came off easily and she looked inside. Sitting at the bottom was a metal police car. It wasn’t anything special, and Mickie was more confused than ever. She picked up the note that was in the box and cautiously opened it.

  I ain’t fallin’ for no banana in my tailpipe!

  I’m sorry. If you’re willing to listen, I’d like to explain.

  Cruz

  Mickie looked back down at the police car. She picked it up and turned it around and laughed out loud. Cruz had stuck a rolled-up piece of yellow paper into the little tailpipe on the toy car. Beverly Hills Cop. The man was quoting “their” movie. Mickie held the car to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. She would not cry. She would not cry. Taking a deep breath, Mickie opened her eyes and placed the car carefully back into the box. She read the note one more time and sighed.

  She wanted more than anything to hear what explanation Cruz had for what had happened and what she’d heard, but first, she needed to check on Angel. After that, maybe she’d see what Cruz had to say.

  Who was she kidding? Of course she’d hear what Cruz had to say about how he’d treated her and about the men he was hanging around with. She wanted, and deserved, an explanation. She might be an idiot for wanting to give him a second chance, but she’d never felt about anyone, even Troy, the way she felt about Cruz.

  Mickie pulled up to her sister’s apartment, got out of her car and walked up the outdoor stairs to her door, knocked once, and didn’t get a response. Concerned, Mickie went to the end of the walkway and looked down into the parking lot. Angel’s car was there, so she should be home. It was possible she’d been picked up by one of her friends to go shopping or something, but this early in the morning, it was unlikely.

  She went back and knocked on the door again. Finally, after getting no response, she dug into her purse and pulled out an extra key to Angel’s apartment. She’d almost forgotten she had it. She and Angel had exchanged keys a year or so ago, just in case.

  Mickie pushed the door open and almost gagged at the stench of the apartment. She waved her hand in front of her face. Pot. Mickie would recognize the smell anywhere. She’d learned really quickly when Angel had been in high school what it smelled like.

  Even more concerned now, Mickie walked quickly through the apartment, calling out for her sister. Mickie pushed open Angel’s bedroom door and gasped at what she found.

  Angel was on her bed, dressed in a black skirt so short it barely covered her womanly bits. She wasn’t wearing a shirt, but instead had on a bra that covered almost nothing. She had bruises on her sides and around her breasts.

  Mickie went to her sister’s side and shook her shoulder, relieved beyond belief when she moaned and turned away from her touch.

  “Angel, wake up. Are you okay?”

  “Mickie? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I was worried about you. Come on, sit up.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “No, now come on, let’s get you up and at least dressed.”

  “I am dressed.”

  “Uh, no you aren’t. You’re missing your shirt.”

  “This is my shirt.”

  Mickie was horrified. “What?”

  “This is what I wore last night at the club.”

  “Oh my God, Angel. What club let you in half dressed?”

  “Ransom’s.”

  “Okay, that’s it. No fucking way. Come on, we’re having this conversation now whether you want to or not. Get up, get a shower and we’ll talk afterwards.”

  Instead of getting pissed, as Mickie completely thought would happen, Angel simply snorted. “You’re so pathetic, Mickie. You’re such a prude. Swear to fucking God. Okay, fine. I’ll get up, take a shower, then we’ll talk. Now leave me the fuck alone. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

  Mickie took a step back. Ouch. Okay, she knew Angel didn’t have a lot of love for her, and she’d heard worse, but still. There was a part inside Mickie that hoped one day they could have a sisterly relationship, but as the years went by that was looking more and more unlikely.

  “Okay, Angel. I’ll wait in the other room.”

  “Whatever. Get the fuck out.”

  Mickie went.

  Half an hour later, Angel came into the kitchen looking somewhat better than when Mickie had found her. She was wearing a tight pair of jeans and a white tank top. Her bra was black and Mickie could see it easily through the thin material of her tank. It was skanky and a bit slutty, but knowing she had to pick her battles carefully, Mickie ignored it for now.

>   Angel crossed the room and went straight to the pot of coffee Mickie had brewed and poured herself a cup. She sat in the chair across the table from Mickie and huffed belligerently while crossing her legs.

  “So, you wanted to talk? Talk.”

  “I’m worried about you, Angel.”

  “Yeah? What’s new? You never think I can do anything, you think I’m an idiot, and you don’t trust me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes. It is. But I’ll tell you something, Mickie. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

  “Angel—”

  “No. You came over here today to talk me out of seeing Ransom again. I know you did. I like Ransom. He makes me feel good. He’s a good person. He does a lot of things for the community. He donates to charities for little kids and he even dresses up as Santa for the hospital. He’s a lot of fun and he likes my friends. Not only that, but he fucks me hard and I love it.”

  “Angel!”

  “What? You’re a prude, Mickie. You’re in your mid-thirties and you’re way past your sexual prime. You have no idea what someone my age likes or wants.”

  “And you want to dress like a whore and hang out in strip clubs? Is that it? And smoking marijuana, Angel? That’s what you want? You want to be a drug addict for the rest of your life? For the last time, Ransom is not into you. Let me guess, he’s supplying you with weed, right? He keeps you high so you’ll do stuff to him sexually? Oh, and let me go even further and guess that he’s brought your friends into it too, right?”

  Seeing the look on her sister’s face, Mickie knew she was on the right track.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? He used you to get to your friends. They’re probably shelling out a ton of money to get weed, aren’t they?” Mickie laughed with no humor. “I wonder when he’s going to get enough of you…huh? Once he has all your friends hooked, he’ll probably dump you. He won’t need you anymore.”

  Angel suddenly stood up, knocking her chair backwards in the process. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t know anything!”