Prose Before Bros

by Smartypants Romance

  She ought to go to sleep. She’d done a lot that day. But she couldn’t get herself to read, and she couldn’t seem to settle down to finish the film, either.

  When she heard the motorcycle, she knew exactly why she wasn’t able to settle down.

  Dammit. It wasn’t a guarantee he’d come over.

  But on some level, she’d been waiting for Drill to stop by. To talk. Or… whatever.

  She closed her eyes, then walked to the front door. His smile was slow and enticing, his blue eyes looking her over. Not in a creepy way, although there was definitely an edge of hunger to his gaze. More like he was just amazingly happy to see her.

  She’d never had anyone look at her like that before. It shook her.

  “C’mon in,” she said. “Want some coffee? You know where it is.”

  “Not tonight,” he said. “I was up all night last night.”

  “Oh?” She jolted. “I’m sorry. I can drink caffeine and go straight to sleep, so it didn’t occur to me…”

  “No, that wasn’t the problem. Although it was still your fault.” His smile was warm, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “Oh?” Dammit. Her heart started pounding a little harder. He’d kept her up last night, with some lascivious thoughts, himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered. Although a part of her really, really wanted to find out.

  This is a bad idea.

  “That book you recommended,” he said instead, surprising her.

  “What? The Name of the Wind?”

  “I started reading it,” he admitted gruffly as they headed into the living room. “Stayed up all damned night.”

  She laughed, then quickly covered her mouth with her hands, not wanting to wake Maddy up. “That is the best thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, in a near whisper, leaning closer to him. “I love it when people get hooked on books.”

  “You are a book pusher,” he agreed, with a grin. She chuckled softly.

  “Sorry, not sorry.” She sat on the sofa, and he sat next to her. Close to her, like they’d been the previous night. He rested his head against his hand.

  “You know,” she pointed out gently, “this is becoming a habit.”

  “You’re easy to talk to.”

  She warmed, sighing softly. “You’re easy to talk to, too. A good listener.”

  He stroked a lock of hair away from her eyes. For a second, she wanted to curve into his palm, purr like a cat.

  This is a very bad idea.

  “Come up with any ideas? About the Wraiths, I mean?”

  He sighed heavily. “I don’t want to think about the Wraiths tonight.”

  She bit her lip. That meant no. Although if he’d been up all night reading, he probably didn’t have time. Still — if he was involved in a motorcycle club, and he didn’t have any plans for getting out of it, what the hell was she doing?

  There’s no harm in talking, she tried to convince herself. Only she knew that her body wanted to do a hell of a lot more than talk.

  She was too busy fighting with herself, so she didn’t notice when he moved in, his face getting closer to hers, until he was right there. She could feel his breathing brush against her jawline, his mouth close to her neck, her clavicle.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

  He paused. “Should I stop?” She could feel the heat of his words, the tickle of his lips against her throat.

  This was it. Make or break. Sanity, or madness.

  Fuck it.

  “No,” she said firmly. And tilted her head back, giving him better access.

  With a groan, he moved in, and she felt enveloped by leather and muscles and a sheer wall of male. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck as he sucked and nibbled his way up her neck, over her jaw, before finally meeting her eager lips.

  She closed her eyes with a flutter when his mouth finally claimed hers. She’d hesitantly dreamed about kissing him again, since that time in the parking lot, but the reality blew the fantasy right the hell out of the water. His mouth was mobile and gifted. With a rough sound, he parted her lips with his, his tongue sweeping in, caressing the soft inner flesh of her mouth before tangling with her tongue. She sighed heavily, sinking into him, her fingertips digging into his muscular neck and the back of his head, holding him tight. If he had any thoughts of pulling away, she wasn’t going to let him go anywhere.

  Their heads tilted, alternating direction, as the kiss went wild and uncontrolled. She wasn’t sure when he twisted, but she found herself shifted from the old sofa to his lap, straddling him. Her kiss-soaked brain slowly registered the growing hardness between her thighs, and she shifted her hips to better accommodate the length.

  Oh, yes. Oh, fuck, yes.

  She pulled away, her breathing rough and choppy, and pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, leaving him in only a thin T-shirt. Her nails lightly scraped over his pecs, and he tilted his head back, eyes closed, letting out a low moan of appreciation as she swiveled her hips.

  “God damn, woman,” he grunted. “God. Damn.” His hands held her hips still, then moved forward, under her sweatshirt, cupping her slight, naked breasts. He rubbed rough thumbs over her nipples, then squeezed the weight as he drove his hips upward.

  “Drill.” She squeezed her thighs together, suddenly wishing they were both naked.

  This is crazy. You’ve got to get a grip.

  But the time for recriminations was way past. She wanted him. He wanted her. It was that simple. Right now, it was all her body was allowing. Rational thought could come later.

  “I want you,” he growled, before sucking on her neck, just below her ear, and causing her whole body to shiver. “I have never wanted any woman as much as I want you, I swear to God.”

  “Then have me,” she breathed.

  He paused. “You’ll let me… tonight?”

  She nodded, pressing herself against him urgently. Quick. Quick. Before my mind interferes.

  His breathing was ragged and heavy. “Not here,” he said. “Let’s go to the…”

  “Hello?”

  Thuy and Drill both froze. Thuy looked over Drill’s shoulder, at the stairs behind the couch.

  Maddy was staring at them, her eyes round as dinner plates. “Um, Drill?”

  He looked over his shoulder, and his entire head went red. “Uhhhh…”

  Thuy bounced off of him like a rabbit. Her skin felt hot, a combination of desire and embarrassment. Maddy looked at her with surprise, and disappointment. Thuy looked away, swallowing hard.

  “What the hell are y’all doing?” Maddy said, with obvious disbelief.

  “About what it looks like,” Drill said, rubbing the back of his head.

  “Y’all are making out?” Maddy asked. Thuy had always noticed that Maddy’s accent became more pronounced when she was upset. This obviously threw her for a loop.

  “I came by and talked to Thuy last night. Nothing happened,” Drill quickly added. “But I’m not going to pretend I’m not interested in your friend, Maddy. And really, it’s none of your business.”

  “If you hurt her,” Maddy said sharply, “it will be.”

  “It’s not like that,” Thuy quickly protested. “We’re… there’s an attraction, sure. But that’s all there is. I mean, it got a little out of hand, that’s all.”

  Now Drill was the one that looked disappointed. Thuy gritted her teeth. She was just pouring gas on a fire.

  “I’ll be by tomorrow to talk to you, Maddy,” he said. “In the meantime — I am beat. Is it okay if I stay in the cabin?”

  Thuy was puzzled, until she remembered. The cabin was the little mother-in-law unit that was on the property. She’d seen it when they first got there, but hadn’t been in since.

  Maddy looked at the two of them, then nodded. “Suit yourself,” she said. “But won’t the club mind?” She was looking at Thuy as she emphasized the word.

  She was reminding Thuy: my brother may seem sweet, but he’s still a cri
minal.

  Thuy nodded.

  He sighed. “You’re probably right. But I’ll give you a call or something soon, okay? We really need to talk.”

  “We sure do,” Maddy said, her voice ripe with promise.

  “Drive careful,” Thuy said, seeing the shadows under his eyes.

  He smiled, and stroked her cheek. Thuy couldn’t help herself. She sighed, returning the smile.

  Then he walked out of the house. She watched him as he got on his bike, strapped on his helmet, and rode away. Then she shut the door.

  When she turned back, Maddy was staring at her, arms crossed.

  “I am too tired to talk about it now,” she said, “and yeah, it’s probably none of my business. But you and me are gonna have words about this, young lady.”

  And being her best friend, Thuy knew she’d let her. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Drill was sitting at the little Formica table in what served as his eating area in his shitty little apartment in Green Valley. He didn’t eat there often. Usually, it just served as a place to let junk mail collect, or maybe sit and drink a beer when he felt wrung out and didn’t want to drink in bed. Since it was a studio apartment, he tended to watch TV from bed, or sleep, obviously. The place didn’t have pictures. His clothes hung in the closet, which had no doors — they’d fallen off their runners, and he’d yanked the damned things off. He had a water glass by the sink. He took his trash out often because he didn’t like the place smelling like old take-out containers. His window was rimmed in grime, which diffused the afternoon light that was pouring in. If he bothered to try peering through it, he’d have a great view of the gas station sign.

  Right now, he wasn’t paying attention to any of that.

  It was a Friday, two days since he’d made out with Thuy in his father’s house. He hadn’t seen Maddy since. He’d thought about talking to her on the phone, but given her dismay at seeing him macking on her best friend, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. And he was still trying to convince her to sell. And, frankly, he was still all up in his feelings about the club, and Catfish’s proposal, and what he should do.

  So, he was taking a break. He was propped up on his elbows, scrolling through pages from the book Thuy had recommended on his phone. He’d ordered the book in paperback, but it hadn’t come yet, so he was still slugging it out on his cell, getting lost in the world of the main character, Kvothe, and the guy’s struggles to learn about magic after losing his gypsy family to some horrific bloodshed. The guy had been homeless, had had to fight on the streets, begging and stealing and doing all kinds of shit to survive. Then he’d figured out a way out of it — sort of. The guy was still broke and struggling, but he was smart and talented. And he didn’t back down. He had a bad period, but he got back up.

  Drill flicked through, wishing he read a little faster. It was getting interesting. He really wanted to find out what was gonna happen to Kvothe. The guy had just gotten kicked out of a library, all because of this asshole who wanted to start shit with him. Drill sincerely hoped the asshole got his ass beat soon.

  Drill frowned when he heard pounding on his door. “Who is it?” he asked, shutting off his phone.

  “It’s Burro!” a scratchy male voice said. “Open up, man!”

  Great. Just great.

  Drill was taking a day off from club stuff. He told Catfish he didn’t feel well. He just didn’t feel like dealing with Wraith shit today — not Catfish’s grand plans, and certainly not Timothy King’s smug bastard face. He still didn’t know what to do about them, or about Catfish’s offer from the day before. So instead, he was just going to take a day and read.

  Yeah. It baffled the hell out of him, too.

  He got up, wandering to the door and opening it. “What do you want?” he snapped.

  Burro was in his forties, a stocky, grizzled guy with a square head and short-cropped, graying hair. Rumor had it he either got his club name from being mulishly stubborn, or because he’d been a drug runner in Texas back in the day. Either way, he’d been with the Wraiths for the past few years. He wasn’t particularly driven, and he tended to drink a little too much and talk a hell of a lot more than he acted. He was mostly used to run errands and messages.

  Drill wondered what errand or message Burro was here for.

  “Hey, bro. Is that any way to greet a friend?” Burro let out a smoker’s laugh, raspy and edged in phlegm. “You’re being rude to me and Nick, here.”

  Drill glanced behind Burro. He’d missed the kid entirely. Nick was in his twenties. Despite being thin and wiry, he was a brawler, edgy and quick-tempered. He looked around nervously, only shaking his head slightly to get his too-long bangs out of his shifty eyes. That seemed to be his default setting, nervous.

  Drill opened the door, letting the two in, hoping that they didn’t plan on staying long. “I told Catfish, I don’t feel so hot. I’m not going to the Dragon today.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Burro looked around. “So what’ve you been doing?”

  Drill’s eyes narrowed. “Spent most of the day on the toilet, if you must know.”

  Burro’s eyes widened, then he laughed. “Shee-it! What’d you eat? Tell me it wasn’t a gas station burrito,” Burro joked. “I know the joint’s right there, but dammit, you can always have a recruit grab you some better grub than that!”

  Nick looked around, his expression more skeptical. He picked up Drill’s phone from the table. Drill grabbed it back from him. “The fuck are you doing?” Drill snapped.

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Even if you were shitting yourself, you could’ve been answering messages,” Nick said sharply. “Catfish has questions.”

  “Nothing that needs my answer right this goddamned second,” Drill said impatiently.

  “So, you haven’t been calling anybody or texting anybody you shouldn’t?”

  Drill thought immediately of Maddy and Thuy. Thankfully, he’d just dropped by the house, but still…

  “What the fuck are you saying, Nick?”

  Burro stood between them, holding his hands up in a peace maker’s gesture. “Now, Drill,” he said patiently. “You know how it’s been. Ever since Darrell went state’s evidence, everybody’s a little jumpy, and Catfish… well, he’s not sure your heart’s in it. So, you don’t mind if we open your phone and look around, do you?”

  “Hell, yes, I mind!” Drill said. “Sixteen years. Sixteen years, I’ve been with the club. And this is the kind of trust I get? This is how I get repaid?”

  “Desperate times,” Burro said, and his expression showed he wasn’t the least bit sorry.

  Drill crossed his arms. “I’m just curious. If I say no, were you planning on making me?” He looked over Burro’s paunchy form, and Nick’s wiry, twitchy one. “Either of you? Both of you, together?” His derision was clear: even both of them armed would have a tough time getting the drop on him.

  Burro grinned. “Well, then. We go back to Catfish and tell him you’ve got something to hide.”

  That was what they really wanted. Burro was a shit-stirrer: he liked drama, and gossiped like an old woman at a quilting bee. Nick, on the other hand, was one of Timothy’s lackeys. He was there to catch Drill out, earn himself some favor. Get Timothy into that vice president slot, maybe.

  Damn it.

  Drill typed in the passcode, then handed it over. “Here.”

  Burro looked surprised that Drill had gone along with it. He opened up the text messages, poked around. “What’s all this?” He frowned. The reading app was still open.

  “It’s a book.”

  “You’re reading a book?” Burro repeated. “On your phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?” Burro asked, obviously baffled.

  “Why not?”

  Nick looked off-balance. “You’ve been here in your apartment, sick — and reading?”

  “Ugh. Yes.” Drill grunted, rolling his eyes. “Drill not stupid. Drill can read.”

&nbs
p; Burro burst out laughing. “Dammit, son. I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

  Nick still seemed suspicious, and he took the phone from Burro.

  “Don’t lose my place,” Drill muttered.

  Nick flipped through pages. “This really is a book,” he said. “What the hell kinda name is Kvothe, anyway?”

  “What’s it about?” Burro added, with mild curiosity.

  Drill squelched a sigh of irritation. “It’s about this guy — well, he starts out as a kid. His whole family gets murdered, all because of a song…”

  “Wait, what?”

  In the next twenty minutes, Drill found himself telling the two men about Kvothe and his struggles. He didn’t really think of himself as a particularly good storyteller, but the story itself was gripping. He summed up what he could. “And that’s as far as I’ve gotten,” he finally said.

  “What do you mean?” Burro pressed. “What happens next?”

  “I don’t know,” Drill said. “I need to keep reading.”

  “Tell us what happens when you do,” Nick said. His suspicion had melted, and now he was like a kid, bouncing and eager for the rest of the story.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He rubbed at his stomach. “I think it’s time for another, um, bathroom break,” he lied.

  “What? Oh, yeah, sure. Feel better, man. The shits are the worst,” Burro said, chuckling. He nudged Nick. “C’mon. Let’s go talk to Catfish.”

  Nick waved a goodbye, and both men retreated down the hallway. Drill waited until he heard their steps on the stairs before letting a breath out.

  Catfish’s paranoia was growing, getting more dangerous. If he told Catfish he wanted to leave, Catfish wasn’t going to believe he just wanted to live his own life. He’d see it as a betrayal. He’d wonder if Drill was going to roll over on him. After all, Drill knew where all the bodies were buried — he’d been in the club for too long.