by K. L. Savage
“I’ll be okay,” I tell him, and his blue eyes shine with tears. He knows I’m right; he just isn’t happy about it. “You taught me all those self-defense moves, remember? I have the gun in my purse, and I know to keep one under my mattress with the safety on.”
“But what if it isn’t enough, pumpkin? I’ll die if I’m not there to protect you.”
“I’ll be okay. The chances of anything happening are slim to none. I’m the sheriff’s daughter. Men don’t even ask me on a date anymore.”
“Good. You can’t date until you’re thirty, remember?”
Oh, man. No way am I going to listen to that rule. I want to be married by the time I’m thirty. “Right. Sure, Dad.” I pat his shoulder, and he sighs. I know that sound. It’s the sound that says, ‘Fine, I give up. Have it your way.’
“Do you have everything already packed in the truck?”
“The only thing that needs to go is me.”
“Alright. Won’t you need help? Let me call some of my guys—”
“Dad, I want to do this alone. Anything that I can’t manage, I’ll let you know; okay?”
“So independent.” He brushes a piece of my dark brown hair out of my face. “Just like your mom. You look just like her, you know,” he tells me, his eyes darting around my face. “Same dark hair, same green eyes, same beauty on your cheek. It’s remarkable.”
He tells me I look like my mom every chance he can. It’s been ten years now, and I don’t think he’ll ever move on. He misses her. “So pretty,” he says, and his blue eyes close for a second as he gathers himself. He opens his eyes and smiles, the calm and collected Sheriff Derek Johnson.
“Okay, pumpkin. Call me if you need me, okay? Seriously, I put myself as one in your speed dial. My office is two and 911 is three.”
“Dad, why wouldn’t I just call 911 first? You’re doing your panicky thing.”
“Right, you’re right. Okay, dinner at your new place this weekend?”
I throw my arms around his neck, and his scruffy gray beard scratches my cheek. “You bet. I love you. I need to go. The agent is there waiting to give me the key.”
“Alright, go on.”
“I’ll only be a few blocks away. Remember? You act like I’m leaving the state,” I remind him with a roll of my eyes as I give him one last hug and then walk away. My new Honda Civic is being pulled behind the U-Haul, so I get to drive the monstrous truck. With my cute silver studded blue purse in hand, I hike it up my shoulder and take the truck key off the coffee table near the door. “I’ll call you tonight. Love you.”
“Love you too, Juliette. Be careful. Don’t talk to strangers.”
“Good lord,” I mumble, walking out the door. I love him, but he is overprotective and overbearing. I’ve told him so many times to treat me like an adult, but as long as I live with him, that is never going to happen. That’s why I’m climbing in the U-Haul on this beautiful hot day in Vegas.
I slide the key in the ignition and crank it. It growls at me for a second before the engine finally purrs to life. My dad waves as he stands by the window, and something crosses his eyes; something I have never seen before. It’s … different. Dark.
Or maybe it’s just how the light is hitting him. I blow him a kiss and back out of the driveway, careful to remember that the trailer pulling the car will go in the opposite direction. Like a good dad, he taught me how to back up a trailer and a boat, so I don’t need the help of a man.
With one last honk goodbye, I drive down the road and sigh. It’s liberating. I’m so excited to have my own place and to make my way in the world. Right now, I work at a little lingerie/evening gown boutique in town, but what I really want to do, if I ever have the guts to do it, is sing.
Not for a big crowd. I’m not about that life. No way in hell. Just a small crowd, something intimate, but that’s just a fantasy. They call dreams, dreams for a reason. I’ll never have the guts to go on stage. For now, I’ll fantasize while I hang up beautiful luxurious lingerie and daydream about wearing the elegant gowns that get delivered.
It’s only a ten-minute drive to my new apartment. It’s away from the main Vegas strip, which is what I wanted because the strip gets so busy. I smile when I see the pale-yellow building with a bright blue roof. It’s more of a one-bedroom house than it is an apartment; it’s the size of a freaking shoe box. It does have a small fenced in yard, white shutters, and a blue door to match the roof. It’s nice and perfect for me. I love bright colors. They make me happy. Things that are dark and dangerous freak me out.
I check my watch and debate how much I want to unpack tonight. Maybe I’ll just pull out my mattress so I have something to sleep on, then run to go get some food since the sun will only be out for another hour. I love Vegas sunsets. The sky gets so orange with pinks mixed in, and I can watch the sun sink under the vast desert while I sit on my porch and have a glass of wine.
Yeah, being on my own is a beautiful thing.
I get out of the truck, take my car off the trailer, which takes up most of the hour I had, and by the time I have it on the ground, I’m sweating, and my dress is sticking to my skin. I wipe my forehead and exhale when I lift the truck door up. The rumble of the metal sliding back slowly shows me all my belongings.
My hands grip the sides of the mattress, and I plant my feet on the floor of the truck, grunting with all my might, but the damn thing doesn’t move an inch.
“Oh, come on,” I groan and try again. I yank and tug until I lose my breath and fall against it. “Okay!” I put my hands on my hips to relax a bit. I’m out of shape. I need to work out. Holy crap, Dad is right, I can’t do this all by myself. I’m naïve to think I can carry a mattress all alone. I kick the thick fluffy bed, and it falls on the ground, flat.
“Huh,” I say to myself when an idea hits me. I’ll just sleep in the truck tonight. It will be safe enough. I’ll get the battery-operated lamp out, and everything will be fine. If my dad finds out, he’ll kill me. It’s like camping, right? I’ll be fine.
I plop my butt down on the mattress, and the big burning orb of the sun peeks over the edge of the sand. Sitting down was a mistake. My body falls backward, and I moan when the aches in my back tense at first. The pain fades, and exhaustion makes my lids flutter. While I’m laying here, I think about how I should have moved.
Dad, once again, is right.
I didn’t need a damn trailer for my car. It was a waste of money. My dad offered to drive the truck while I drove the car behind him, but no, my stubborn, independent ass had to make everything difficult.
I’ll never hear the end of it from him. He’ll say, ‘I told you so’ and remind me of this for a few months, give me a hard time, and it will be all for fun.
My stomach grumbles, telling me I need to eat. Instead of driving like I had planned, I take my phone out and order from my favorite sushi place, Rho on Postmates, and wait. I bring my legs to my chest, wrap my arms around my knees, and lay my cheek against my thigh, watching the last rays of the sunset. I’m addicted to the beauty of it. It’s so natural, and nothing can ever replicate it.
That little feeling of loneliness tickles my heart as I stare ahead, always impressed by the vast desert before me. It isn’t the kind of loneliness where I miss my dad; it’s the loneliness someone feels when they haven’t experienced being in love before. I want to share this experience with someone. I want to hold hands and enjoy the simple things, like the sunset, like the stars, and make memories.
Maybe what I want is a dream too; maybe love doesn’t exist for me. I love myself enough to enjoy being alone, but who genuinely wants to be alone when they can share a kiss, a home, and create a family, make memories?
I’m being naïve.
Again.
That isn’t in the cards for some people, and maybe I need to let go of the dream of being someone’s someone. All I’ll ever need is myself, but the want, damn, the want for something bigger than myself is nearly consuming.
“Ah, I have
an order for Juliette?” a man knocks on the side of the truck. “The person said to come to the big red truck.”
“That’s me!” I jump up and walk to the edge where I can step down onto the road. “Thank you so much.” I take the plastic bag from him that contains all my yummy goodies and the Coke he has in his hand.
“Moving in?”
“Yep,” I say a little too cheery. “Sorry, I’m excited.”
He chuckles, brushing his fingers over his lips. He’s good looking with his dirty blond hair and light scruff on his face. He’s wearing a polo and khakis, a bit frat boy for my taste, but I wouldn’t say no to a date with him. “No worries. I felt the same when I got my first place. Have a good night, I’ll see you around.”
“Bye,” I say softly, watching him jog back to his car. Of course, he doesn’t want to date me. I look wrecked, and he probably likes bikini models. I’m not overweight, but I have big boobs and thick thighs to carry around all the junk in my trunk. I do have a tiny waist due to the ab routine I do three times a week.
I take out the lamp from the box labeled ‘random stuff’ and turn it on, enjoying my sushi in peace. A coyote howls in the distance, signaling the pack its location.
If only I had my own pack then maybe I wouldn’t be sitting in a truck by myself on the outskirts of Vegas.
It is dangerous.
I can be really dumb sometimes. I’m too eager, too impulsive. Everything has to be now, now, now. If I’d taken a minute to think about this move, I would have done it all differently.
I toss my container to the side and lay on the mattress, hoping tomorrow will be a better day. I just have to survive the night.
Hopefully, coyotes don’t find me and eat me. The last thing I want is to be a toothpick for a wild animal.
3
TOOL
“Yeah?” I answer the phone while I’m tightening a new oil filter. I’m currently underneath an old Buick, and I swear, the owner doesn’t know that the oil needs to be changed every three-thousand miles on an old car like this. The oil was sludge, like a big hunk of Jell-O. I don’t know how the old man let it get like that, but he better be glad he didn’t ruin the engine.
“I’ll open the gate,” I say with more of a bite than usual. I’m the only one working today, well with Tank on the tow truck. Other than that, all the other guys are on a run for the Prez. Usually I lead the way on runs, but not this time. When Reaper gives an order, I follow it, and he told me to stay here. I don’t mind. My mind is cloudy, and I’m frustrated I haven’t found a place for the club I want to open. My good idea is slowly going down the drain.
I only want to be helpful for the club. I thought this was a way to repay Reaper for everything he’s done for me. I also owe him for knocking Sarah across the jaw—it was an accident—a punishment he has yet to give me. I’m not looking forward to. Whatever it is, it’s going to fucking hurt.
Planting my boots on the ground, I push off the stained cement and roll out from under the car. Standing, I grab the black towel, that used to be white but now is stained from oil, and wipe my hands off. I see Tank, one of our Prospects, driving down the dirt road, a truck on the flatbed.
I step into the raging morning heat and tuck the rag into my back pocket as Tank brings the truck to a stop. Tank is a huge fucker, pure muscle, and he looks like he’s squeezed into a tin can right now. He looks mean as hell, but the guy is the softest damn thing since the stuffed teddy bear was invented.
“Hey, Tank, what ya got for me?” I shout to him as he hops down from the driver’s side.
Tank walks around the front and tucks his hands in his back pocket as he kicks rocks along the driveway before going to the panel that lowers the flatbed to the ground. “Um, I got a…”
I lean forward to hear what he has to say, but he’s so damn soft spoken that I can’t hear a thing. “Prospect, speak the hell up,” I order him, and his eyes widen with a tinge of fear. His throat bobs as he gulps ,and then he nods.
“It was parked in a no parking zone,” he whispers and then clicks the button to lower the bed to the ground.
“Alright.” I head for the back of the truck and notice by the logo on the back door it’s a moving truck. Damn it, this isn’t good. Someone is going to raise hell when they realize their shit is missing. Maybe there’s something in the back that will tell me who to call. This shouldn’t have been towed, but I’m not going to tell Tank that. He’ll get all gloomy, and I don’t feel like dealing with gloomy. I’m gloomy enough. I need something bright and cute.
Maybe I do need a dog. At least the dog will be happy to see me every day, and what’s better than that?
I grip the rusted metal handle and turn it to the left then lift, letting it roll back. My eyes adjust for a quick second into the dark space, and then the sunlight trickles in, revealing a figure laying on the mattress. “Shit!” In one leap I hop inside, hurrying to the person’s side. They might need help.
I expect to see blood, bruises, tears, and a story of something bad because that’s what always lands on the Ruthless doorstep, but when I get to their side, I find the prettiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
She’s in a blue sundress, but I can’t see the rest of her body due to a blanket covering her. Her hands lay on her stomach as she sleeps. I can’t believe she didn’t wake up as Tank towed her. I bet she can sleep through a bomb going off, which isn’t a good thing. What if he hadn’t been Tank but someone else who towed her, or worse—stole the truck with her inside? She didn’t think her plan through, and that pisses me off.
My anger quickly flees when I see her big tits pressing against her dress, the smooth curves of her cleavage teasing me. Her skin is pale and creamy, and her dark brown hair is tied in a knot on top of her head. Her lashes are long, thick, and casts shadows onto the top of her plump cheeks. She lets out a soft sigh, and her lips part.
Jesus Christ, it’s the prettiest fucking sound I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing.
My eyes lock onto her mouth, and my cock threatens to awaken, pressing against the zipper of my pants. Her lips are carved from sin, promising nothing but pleasure, and I’m dying to be the sinner who gets a taste.
She starts to wiggle, and then her arms lift above her head as she stretches. The mystery woman rubs her eyes and yawns, a little squeak leaving her throat as she tries to wake up. Damn it, she’s so hot and cute all at the same time, and I know if I put my hands on her, I’ll just dirty her up with all of my darkness and wicked ways.
A woman like this deserves the best. I’m not good enough for her. She’s clean against my greased-up skin, and even in the stuffy box of the moving truck, I can smell her mango shampoo. I’ll taint her with my sweat from a long day’s work. She deserves a pretty boy to match her appearance, but the thought has the monster I keep locked away roaring forward.
And it’s determined to get her filthy.
Her lashes flutter open, slowly blinking as she wakes up to the world, gracing us with her presence.
My god, her eyes are the color of the sea, but not blue, no, her eyes are sea green, reminding me of the beach in the tropics. When she sees me, she smiles, and the weight on my chest lifts off like it was never there to begin with.
But then, it hits her that a strange man is hovering over her, admiring her.
Her body too, but she doesn’t need to know that bit.
Yet.
She grabs the blanket, brings it to her chest, and scrambles backward until her back hits the boxes behind her. She lets out an ear-piercing scream that bounces off the metal walls of the truck.
I wince but hold my hands out to show her I’m no threat. “I know, alright. You’re safe here. Okay? You’re at Kings’ Garage. Your truck got towed for being parked in a no parking zone. It’s okay. You’re free to go whenever you want. I promise, you’re safe.”
“Kings’ Garage?” she asks, and her voice is so light with a soft rasp. I imagine her humming around my cock while she sucks me between th
ose plump red lips. “Ruthless Kings?” Her eyes get wide with fear and suddenly pool with tears. “You’re going to kill me.”
“What?” I cock my head to the side from her ridiculous question. “I’m not going to kill you.” I’ve killed before, but she doesn’t need to know that. “You’re safe here. Ruthless Kings don’t hurt women.”
“That’s not what my dad says. You better let me go. You don’t want trouble.”
“Woman, did you hear me? I said you were free to go whenever you want.” I stand and jump down from the inside of the truck, leaving her on the mattress. I hardly know her, and she’s already a bigger pain in my ass than Poodle. She isn’t listening to me, and I can’t stand it when people don’t fucking listen.
“Hey! Don’t walk away from me.” Her voice gets hard and fierce. It reminds me of a chihuahua getting all worked up. It’s adorable. “I’m not scared of you.” She shoves my back, and instinctively I reach for the screwdriver I keep at my ear and turn around, placing it right under her chin.
“That’s foolish of you to say,” I whisper, looking her up and down. Her dress is dangerous, showing all her curves, and she’s wearing heels. When the hell did she put those devilish things on? Fuck me, they’re making her legs defined, and now I’m imagining flipping her dress over and fucking her right here while she stands in those stiletto pumps.
Jesus, the woman is dangerous.
“I thought you said you didn’t hurt women.” She juts her chin out against the tip of the screwdriver. If she’s scared, she isn’t showing it like she did in the truck. She’s strong, has a backbone.
I love that.
“I don’t,” I say, refusing to tell her the way I want to hurt her will only last a second as I fill her pretty pussy up with my big cock. We stay there like that for a few minutes, staring into each other’s eyes longer than normal. I’m reacting to her in ways I’ve kept locked away for a long time.
