The guy really is an enigma once he chooses to skip the effort to come off as easygoing. When we’re in the parking lot, before I climb on his bike, he gives the nearby road a dark frown. I don’t know if he sees someone or just thinks he does, but I’d piss myself a little if he ever unleashed that look on me. Men like Conor and Uncle Clive make few threats, but I sense they’re the most dangerous.
Right now, Conor’s green-eyed gaze finds me, and he allows a little smile. “I like knowing I can kiss you whenever I want.”
I desperately want to push away Conor and protect my heart. No, I should make him want me more! I need to be protected from Uncle Clive. But I’ve never been any good at using people. I should have tried harder to win over my uncle, aunt, and cousins back in Minton. Or seduced one of Clive’s henchmen. I’m attractive, and a few of them wanted to fuck me.
After Mom took off, I considered using what they wanted to get what I needed. Except Uncle Clive wasn’t going to put the needs of his peons ahead of his own. As soon as Zella was dead and Mom left, I was on borrowed time. Uncle Clive kept mentioning how much men eyeballed me. He would often say that Hobbs women came from the mud, but they sure did make men wild. Even knowing I was in danger, I didn’t run until the absolute last fucking minute.
So, no, I can’t seduce Conor to save myself. He’ll either want me or not. I lack the skills to trick Conor Jessup into doing anything he doesn’t already plan to do. And with his poker face and faux easygoing demeanor, I have no clue what his long-term desires are.
That’s why I plan to focus on enjoying his hot body and sexy company rather than playing him. I won’t worry about Uncle Clive’s henchmen finding me. Or what happens if Lowell isn’t my father. My only goal should be learning more about those tattoos I see peeking out from under Conor’s black “Moonshine Corn Liquor” T-shirt. Tonight, I’ll get this man naked and start exploring.
That’s why I return his kiss with such wild abandon. Why the fuck not enjoy every single moment before it’s gone? I don’t remember much about my last day with my mom or what I told Zella when we last spoke. Life can change so suddenly. Often, there’s no time to say goodbye. I fear that might happen with Conor.
But his lips promise he has everything under control. All I need to do is enjoy the ride while he handles life’s pesky details.
Insisting I wear the helmet he brought, Conor nearly laughs as I try to wedge my head inside it.
“You must have a bigger brain than my cousin, Summer,” he mumbles once I’m wearing it. “Smart chicks are hot.” After Conor starts the engine, he reaches back to stroke my legs. “Hold on,” he says and flashes a deeply unreadable glance at me.
Wrapping my arms tighter around him, I choose to let the excitement of today erase everything else.
CONOR
On the drive to Cincinnati, I begin doubting my movie plan. Monroe is currently in an affectionate, unguarded mood. Hitting her up for more info in a dark theater isn’t ideal. I need a better activity. Preferably one where we aren’t expected to remain silent.
When we arrive at the theater, I let my motorcycle idle while looking up the movie times.
“Everything started a while ago,” I say over my shoulder.
Monroe fumbles with the black helmet’s face mask until finally freeing herself. “I don’t really like movies.”
I frown back at her. “Why didn’t you mention that before we left?”
“I’m very agreeable after an orgasm.”
“But that orgasm is old news now, huh?”
Monroe smiles softly. “The rumbling of the engine erased the humming of my satisfied pussy.”
My dick instantly awakens and reminds me that it would very much like to enjoy this hot woman. Sure, her lips were banging hot, but what about the sweet set between her legs? Yes, let’s go somewhere to find out!
Fucking would be great, but I want to talk to Monroe. A sexually satisfied woman might be willing to run if things go sideways with Lowell. A lovestruck one will stick around. I need to remind her how the world might be cold, but her heart is safe with me.
“I know a place we can hang out.”
“A hotel?” she asks, likely knowing where my head went based on how I had to adjust myself on the motorcycle.
“An arcade,” I say and flip down the helmet’s face mask. “Hold on. It’s not far.”
Monroe does as I instruct, and we’re soon back on the highway for a short drive to King’s Fun Zone. The place isn’t busy considering the time and day of the week. We park my bike, liberate Monroe’s head from the helmet, and stroll toward the entrance.
“Did you play at the arcade growing up?” I ask, testing Monroe’s mood.
“There isn’t anything like this up north. When Needy and I lived in Florida, she took me to a place called a fun park for school kids’ birthday parties. I remember the game where you roll the ball and try to hit different holes. Otherwise, it didn’t make an impression.”
Once we get inside with our cup filled with tokens, I look around for something to play. A lot of the games are newer, and I have no fucking clue what they do. I find a pinball machine and slide in a token.
“My dad used to bring me here when I was a kid,” I say, and Monroe instantly smiles. “He said his parents never took him anywhere when he was growing up. I think he wanted to do better than them. But I also sensed he just wanted an excuse to do the shit he couldn’t as a kid.”
“Your parents didn’t come from money, I assume.”
“No,” I mutter, trying to control the damn pinball and talk at the same time. “The Executioners were founded by rough, poor fuckers with few skills. They took Elko by force, which was probably the easy part. Running the business side could have ended them. None of them came from a numbers or management background. My paternal grandparents worked odd jobs. My maternal grandparents were criminals. Well, maybe not my grandma. She was sick in the head and couldn’t hold a job. Her husband was a thief, though. I know that much. We come from a long line of losers, but the club allowed those men to build something better for their families.”
“And Lowell is one of the founders?” Monroe asks, still holding on to her dream of a cool daddy.
After losing the game, I slide in another token. “He was there from day one. No one’s closer to Bronco than him.”
“Not even Lana?”
“No, Bronco doesn’t tell her the ugly stuff. She met him when he was well past his full-fledged asshole phase. Lowell was around since Bronco was mean. He’s seen all the big man’s shit. Back before Lana and even Anders, Lowell was the only one Bronco trusted. His sisters hassle him. The other founders are the kind of men to lash out at weakness. So Bronco had to rely on Lowell.”
Backing away from the Lowell talk, Monroe asks, “What kind of games did your dad like to play?”
“Just the easy shit that he wanted to do as a kid. ‘Water in the clown’s mouth’ kind of stuff. Pinball machines were his favorite,” I say, gesturing toward the game. “Want to give it a try?”
“No, but I wouldn’t mind shooting hoops on that NBA game.”
Grinning, I take her hand and walk over to the empty game. She slides in a token and starts shooting. I’m impressed that she hits more shots than she misses.
“I played basketball in school,” she says after the game ends, and she’s fishing around for another token in the cup. “Did you want to play on the other one, and we’ll have a contest?”
“Competitive chicks are sexy,” I say, taking her up on her offer. “Did you play any other sports?”
“Softball, volleyball, soccer.”
“So, you’re a jock?”
“More like a tomboy. I just wanted to play sports and climb trees. Needy was the same way growing up. Eventually, she realized there was no future in being a tomboy. So, she played up her looks and learned to flirt. That’s how she got involved with the Executioners.”
“And what happened to her?”
Monroe tenses, m
issing her shot as the game ends. “It’s complicated.”
“We’re not in any hurry.”
Sliding another token in the game, Monroe takes the basketball and makes a shot. “Mom tried to make it on her own with me. She met a guy in Florida, and they shacked up, but he was still into another woman. After that ended, we lived in a shithole in Georgia. My aunt and uncle visited once. That’s when Clive decided we should move up to where they lived. Mom wasn’t sure about relying on his generosity.”
“Because he’s a bad guy?” I ask when she stops talking and focuses on shooting hoops.
“He’s sorta like you. I mean, with his job,” she says, glancing around to find a mostly empty play area. “He has that kind of power. Needy worried, but our life in Georgia was a dead end, so we went to live with them. They have a big piece of land with a few houses on it. The largest one belongs to Clive. We lived there. Some of his henchmen live in the smaller houses. It wasn’t bad, really. Mom worked a few shifts at a bar Clive owns. She only got paid tips, but all our bills were taken care of. Life there was comfortable until it wasn’t.”
I roll a lock of Monroe’s blonde hair around my index finger. She stops frowning at the flashing basketball board. I sense her veering into painful stuff. Based on the last twenty-four hours, she prefers to keep her emotions in check.
“Why did you run away from your uncle?” I ask, sensing she’s calm enough to push for details. “Was he hurting you?”
Monroe lowers her head and rests her cheek against my arm. “One night at dinner, he announced a guy in Bismarck wanted me. Marriage would be good for everyone. Steven has political power, which would help the McNamee family. And I would get to live in a big historical house in the nice part of Bismarck. After announcing that, Clive changed the subject as if my future wasn’t up for discussion.”
Monroe talks about her people as if I’m a townie who knows their stories. I do the same shit with Aja when we discuss my life in Elko.
“I’m confused about how your family works,” I say, hoping she’ll keep opening up.
Monroe glances around and then lowers her voice to explain, “Uncle Clive is the only remaining son from a powerful family in Minton. His people run drugs and guns up north and over the border. I always knew I couldn’t piss him off, but he wasn’t an angry guy. Much like the Executioners act so nice at the bar. When you’re in charge and can end anyone that pisses you off, you tend to be happy people. And Uncle Clive is usually nice. Like, when he said I had to marry Steven, he didn’t threaten me. But I knew it wasn’t optional. Just like I assume my mom marrying some rando in Kansas wasn’t her choice. We were the property of a powerful person.”
Monroe takes my hand in both of hers and studies my palm. “Clive and Immee had a daughter named Zella, who was my best friend. We weren’t much alike. She was boy-crazy and loved clothes. I was more interested in sports and chilling. We weren’t naturally good together, but Minton isn’t a big place. There weren’t many options. The smarter people leave for college without planning to return. The town only exists to serve the McNamee family and their illegal businesses. Everything is about them. Like, my uncle is lactose intolerant, meaning there are no ice cream shops in town.”
Turning my hand over, she runs her fingers over my busted middle knuckle. “Zella was always restless. Minton bowed to her family, but she wanted to leave. Except Uncle Clive would never let her go. Zella dulled her restless spirit with booze and drugs and fucking. I was happy to work at the family bar and hang out with my mom and Zella. I don’t need much. Just my people and a sense of belonging. Zella craved more, but she just ended up OD’ing in the rec room at our house.”
Though I wait for tears, Monroe only sighs softly. “I still remember the look on her face when I found her. She seemed so startled. Her eyes were wide open, and her mouth parted. She had vomit around her lips and down her shirt. I knew she was dead before I even got close. Her body was too stiff and awkward looking.”
“I’m sorry,” I say when she gets quiet.
Monroe looks at me and holds my gaze. “In the movies, people scream and freak out when they find someone dead. But I just stood there and felt how different the world was without Zella in it. She wasn’t a great person, but she made me laugh. When I first moved in, she would share her donuts with me and say how I would never be alone. Zella and my mom never missed any of my games, even though my cousin didn’t like sports. So, yeah, she was a rich girl who threw her life away by getting high. But she was also a sweet friend and my family.”
Monroe tightens her grip on my hand. “Yet, as I stood there looking at her blank eyes staring at me, I felt dread over what would happen next. Not the part where I grieved her. More about how Uncle Clive would react. He’s not a man accustomed to the world taking anything from him. I knew he would want someone to blame. The guy passed out with Zella that night was dead meat. I had no doubt he would disappear for good. Other people might need to die, too. But I also worried about Mom and me. Somehow, I sensed Zella’s death would be the end of us.”
“And he married off your mom?”
Eyes wary now, Monroe shuts down rather than sharing more. I decide to change the subject to offer her a chance to regain her earlier calm.
“Did you always want to be blonde?”
“No, but I thought I wouldn’t be so easy to spot with blonde hair. Uncle Clive might not care that I ran off, but I doubt it,” Monroe says and then lowers her gaze before continuing, “I took some of his cash to pay for my trip. Not a bunch, but I took some,” she mumbles, clearly feeling guilty for robbing her criminal uncle.
“Do you like having blonde hair?”
Monroe meets my gaze and nearly whispers, “I resemble my mom too much. Looking in the mirror hurts my heart.”
Sensing her mood going south, I change the subject again. “Your accent gave away how you were from the Dakotas. It’s faint, but I hear it occasionally. That’s why I watch ‘Fargo’ as a porno now.”
Monroe slugs me in the arm with enough force to make my dick hard. The fire in her eyes is such a turn-on. Yeah, I’m aware of how my thing for strong women is, no doubt, inspired by my tough mother. But the heart wants what it wants, and mine beats faster when Monroe’s temper awakens.
“Don’t be sensitive about your accent,” I tease while wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “Someone has to live in that shithole up north. Why not you?”
“I want to razz you, but I can’t think of anything.”
“I am truly a nearly perfect specimen.”
“Only nearly? Share those flaws with me, so I’ll have ammunition.”
“I’m too sexy. Like I turn myself on every time I pass a reflective surface. It’s very distracting.”
“I really like you,” she says, blushing when she hears the directness behind her words. “I’ve never gotten hung up over a man. It’s a little unnerving.”
Hugging her to me, I nuzzle her forehead as she studies me. “I’ve had so many girlfriends. Super slut stud right here,” I say, feeling her nails digging into my chest in protest. “But, yeah, I admit that I’ve never gotten worked up over them. Only you, sugar slit.”
“Umm, no.”
“Sweet lips?”
“These?” she asks, pursing her mouth. “Or the ones below?”
“Why not both?”
Monroe smiles. “I’m getting overly attached to you. I think we ought to play separately for the next hour to keep me focused.”
“No,” I say, attaching her to my body. “You shall become another one of my extremities. Like an extra set of arms and an additional mouth hole.”
When she attempts to free herself, our wrestling match nearly takes her to the ground. Monroe laughs as she finally scrambles away.
“Look at this freaking wise guy over here,” she says while I chase after her.
One of the employees looks ready to tell us to stop running but then probably remembers he barely makes more than minimum wage. Is that really en
ough money to challenge a big, tattooed man like myself?
Monroe ends up outside, where she notices the bumper cars. I know immediately how she’ll want to go on them. Technically, the course is closed during slow periods, but I slide that earlier employee a hundred to let us ride around.
As soon as Monroe slams her car into mine and lets out a fiendish laugh, I know I’ve found my honey. Any woman this excited to smash into shit will fit perfectly in my world.
MONROE
Conor is too sexy to be this silly, and he’s far too silly and sexy to be scary. Yet, somehow, he’s supposed to take over the Executioners Motorcycle Club. I don’t get it. Earlier, I felt how dangerous he was, but I’ve fallen harder since then.
After we crash our bumper cars together—and occasionally race—Conor wants to use up the rest of his tokens. Unfortunately, the big spender bought more than we’ll ever need. Rather than toss the tokens, he offers them to a mom struggling with her kids in the parking lot. The horny look she gives him nearly inspires me to sucker punch the twat. He’s mine!
“She wanted to make her sixth kid with me,” Conor murmurs after we leave the woman with her free tokens and stand at his Harley. His lips nibble at my ear. “She senses my balls are filled with fertile prowess.”
“Are you trying to make me horny?” I whisper as my lips brush against his. “Because this kind of sweet-talk isn’t doing it.”
Conor chuckles. “The key to successful flirting is to throw everything at the wall and hope something sticks.”
Kissing me, Conor gives my ass a light squeeze. My hands are more interested in exploring his chest. We fondle each other for a few minutes while the world ignores our horniness.
My vibrating phone is easy to ignore. Then, Conor’s starts ringing, too. I prefer to focus on his tongue rather than bad news. Still kissing me, he lifts his phone beside my head enough for him to glance at the text. Our fun ends when he pries his lips free, complete with a popping sound.
Frost (EEMC) Page 7
