Then Lewis moved again, and Ty saw his hole framed by his ass cheeks. It was there and then gone, and then there again, the glimpses of it somehow as erotic as the vision of the thickly veined cock disappearing into Crissy’s pussy. Then—and this was what caused Ty to come, ejaculating so forcefully stripes of white decorated Lewis’ ass and back, dripping onto Crissy’s legs—Lewis looked over his shoulder at Ty with a grin and winked. That fucking wink told Ty he knew exactly where Ty’s focus had been, and the exposure of that part of Lewis’ anatomy hadn’t been a mistake, hadn’t been on accident, but had been fucking purposeful. Knowing Lewis wanted him to look at his hole, wanted him to look at it and want it so fucking bad, that had been what drove Ty to the best orgasm he’d ever had.
“Earth to Ty,” Penny said, still smiling at him over her shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”
He shook his head, instinctively glancing down to see a telling bulge in his crotch. Shit. “No thoughts, Penny. Just hungry. You ever gonna get done cooking?”
After the meal, Retro said his goodbyes and Wrench stood beside Penny on the front porch as she waved him down the driveway. Without turning around, she asked, “You gonna tell me what’s eating you up inside?”
“What?” The one-word question came out harsher than he intended, and he coughed, clearing his throat. Still on the defensive, he ignored her sidelong look and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve been nervous as a rabbit on opening day.” She walked to the porch swing and sat, holding the swing still with her feet wedged against the boards of the porch. “Sit down and talk to me. You know I know what I’m talking about, so don’t even try to deny it. Something’s wrong, and I get to help you sort it out.” She patted the seat next to her. “Come on, sit.” He heard an echo of Lewis’ voice, “Come on, come,” and shivered.
“Jesus, you’re pushy,” he grumbled as he settled onto the seat next to her. His legs were longer than hers, and he started pushing, causing the swing to move in a slow arc. “What’d Retro want, anyway?” The man’s visit had seemed random, and the conversation during breakfast was all surface talk, nothing deep or necessary. “He come visiting from ‘Bama often?”
“He’s looking to foster his daughter out for the summer.” He must have made a surprised sound because she laughed softly. “She just turned 15 and thinks the sun rises and sets on a prospect in the Bastards. He’s just looking to broaden her horizons. I know Nelda, watched her grow up, and Twisted and I have plenty of room. It’ll be fun, like having a little sister for a while.”
“Having a houseguest is gonna make life interesting.” Wrench stretched, laying his arm across the back of the swing, curling his fingers around her shoulder. “She coming soon as school’s out?” Penny nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He bent his neck to press a kiss to the top of her head, surprised for a moment he didn’t smell coconut, and then realized that was the kind of shampoo Crissy used. Clearing his throat, he straightened his legs, pushing them a little faster. “You ready?”
Without hesitation, she answered, “Lay it on me.”
Shit, I’m not sure I’m ready.
When he didn’t respond, she urged him, “Give it to me, Ty. Let me help.”
“I don’t…it’s hard to decide where to start.” Fingers dug into his side and he squirmed away, the swing jarring to a stop as he complained, “Stop it. It’s not easy to put the words together, that’s all.” She relaxed against him, and he slowly started the swinging motion again. “I don’t do unconventional, you know? Everything Daddy and Ace wanted from me, I’ve done. Straight and narrow. Even things I wanted, if they warned me off, I didn’t go there.”
Her hand landed on his knee, and she squeezed, letting him know she understood without him spelling it out he was talking about her. He’d loved her since they were kids. He’d been even younger than Nelda, and yet Ty had known what he felt for Penny was real. Her uncle, Bagger, had waved him off more than once, in addition to his father’s words of warning. Every time it looked like Ty might be getting close to her in a way that wasn’t brotherly, they’d all called him on it. Finally giving in at about age seventeen, Ty had launched himself into the brother role, forcing every emotion down a black hole, living for the moments when they could be together. Taking what he could get.
“It’s been a long time since I felt like this. Maybe…” He glanced at her, hoping he wouldn’t hurt her with his words. “Maybe it’s the first time I’ve had feelings like this for someone. But…” He trailed off and sat quietly for a moment, wondering how to explain. “You know how you meet someone and you either like ‘em, or you don’t? There can only be any kind of middle ground after you get to know them a bit. And sometimes, after getting to know them, you’ll change places and make it all the way to the other side of the line. Like you move from the don’t like to the like side of things. I…” He shook his head. “If I were to be in a relationship, I’m so fucking clueless. Penny, how do you even make it work?”
Wrench’s phone chimed, and he leaned back to pull it out of his pocket, expecting it to be a summons from Ace. Instead, he saw a selfie from Po’Boy, mugging for the camera, a photo filter giving him google eyes and circling his head with cartoon birds and hearts. The caption asked, “Missing me yet?” Rolling his eyes, he shoved the phone back into his pocket, realizing too late he should have angled it away. Penny was still, and her very stillness was concerning. Fuck. Glancing down, he could only see part of her face, but from this position, it almost looked like she was smiling. Lifting his chin, he squeezed his eyes closed tightly. Anything I say at this point will be defensive, and a lie. Choosing silence, he pushed against the floor, moving the swing back and forth.
“Are you happy?” Of all the things she could have asked, Wrench wouldn’t have put money down on that one.
This was something he could answer, so he did. “I, uh. Yeah, I think so.”
Penny’s hand squeezed his knee again, tight. “Good. You deserve happy, Ty.” Her voice was thick when she said, “You’ve always deserved happy.” They sat in silence for a moment, the motion of the swing soothing. “So how long have you known you were gay?”
Wrench couldn’t have stopped his reaction if he’d wanted to. Instinctive and raw, he flinched and felt a hot flush climbing his neck, coloring his cheeks as he barked, “I’m not fucking gay.” Fuck.
“But I thought…” Now Penny’s voice was the one to trail off, and Wrench wasn’t sure how to answer the confusion in her voice when she asked, “Wasn’t that Po’Boy’s picture on your phone?”
“Well, yeah.” Fucking asshole. As if on cue, his phone chimed again, and then again, and Wrench gritted his teeth, ignoring it for now. “But I’m not, you know. I’ve slept with plenty of women.” He had, too. When he’d been ordered to stay away from Penny, he’d tried hard to fuck her out of his thoughts and memories. Over the years he’d had dozens of one-night stands. Dozens. Fuck, I’m a man whore. “I just never found anyone.”
“Until now.” She supplied this rationale as if it were logical. “So it’s not because he’s a man?”
“No, I’ve never...” He sucked in a breath. “I think it’s just…him. It’s Lewis. But I’m definitely not…you know. Because we’ve got Crissy, too.”
“Who’s Crissy?” Penny cut her gaze up at his face, eyes wide in surprise. “You’ve got a girlfriend, too?”
“Well, we do. Kinda. I think.” His muscles twitched with the need to move, to get up and be gone from there. This wasn’t the talk I wanted to have. With a sigh, he tried to regain control over the conversation. “She lives next door to me. Cute and sweet. You’ll like her.”
“I get to meet her? This not-girlfriend who is sleeping with…what, one at a time, or do y’all just puppy pile in the bed at night?” Now she was definitely grinning, and he frowned at her, trying to understand how she could be so comfortable with the idea of something he couldn’t even clearly articulate. “I’m just messin’ with you. B
ut I’m curious, too. So, are you bi?”
“Fuck, Penny.” Wrench stood, his rushed movements leaving the swing bouncing side to side behind him. “Why you need a label for everything? I just...I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I’ve never had anything I wanted to keep before. You have—” He spread his hands wide. “—everything you want. Right here. You have what you always needed. I thought I could come here and…shit. I don’t know what I thought, okay? Just never mind. You’re my best friend, and I—” He stuttered to a stop. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“How long?”
“How long what?” He couldn’t bring himself to turn and look at her, not wanting to see that fucking amusement in her eyes.
“How long have you been seeing Po’Boy?”
Swallowing hard, Wrench considered her question, shocked at the answer because the shift in his life seemed to have happened decades ago. “Uh, I guess, maybe a couple of days?” He shook his head. “But it’s not like that. It’s not like that’s all there is. Really, if I had to put a date on it—” His phone buzzed again, cutting him off. He yanked it out of his pocket to see two texts from Po’Boy and the expected summons from Ace.
“Twisted’s birthday?” His head jerked around, and he stared at her. She grinned. “What? I notice things.” Her words caused terror to twist in his gut, because while he trusted Penny not to say anything, if anyone else had noticed, it could be— “Stop, Ty. It wasn’t obvious. And this is just me here. You’re only talking to me right now. And, I’d never, ever do anything to hurt you.” Clearly frustrated, she repeated herself, tone sharp, “Stop it.” Pulling in a deep breath, she patted the swing beside her again, and with a sigh, he settled back down. She leaned over, putting her head on his shoulder and with that single gesture, Penny told him nothing would ever change for them. Then, in a soft voice, she said, “If you can’t talk to me about Po’Boy, then tell me about Crissy.”
Wrench huffed out a laugh. “I gotta go, doll. IMC and CoBos have a meeting in thirty minutes.”
“Well, it’s ten minutes to the clubhouse from here. So—” Penny squeezed his knee. “—you have at least fifteen to tell me everything.”
***
Po’Boy
“Not gonna put up with his brand of bullshit today.” Po’Boy was muttering to himself as he dialed, waiting on the ringing call to connect. “Man always tries to make me believe he’s got some fuckin’ ace up his goddamned sleeve. I’ll rip the fuckin’ sleeve right the fuck off and shit down his shirt.” When the phone continued to ring, he tipped his head back, squinting at the darkening sky. “Fuck.”
The call connected finally, and he heard Retro’s voice mail message, the man’s tone of voice self-satisfied and amused, “Ain’t callin’ you back. Ain’t listenin’ to nothing, either. Try me ‘til you find me.”
“Jesus,” Po’Boy muttered, thumb slashing across the icon to terminate the call. He was staring at the phone trying to decide what to do next when it rang in his hand. A glance at the name showing made him grunt, and he answered with an angry, “Fuckin’ liar. Said you didn’t call people back.”
“For you, I’ll always make an exception,” Retro said. “What’s up, man?”
“Why you always think something’s up when I call you? That your standard response to everybody? ‘What’s up’ like you’re ready for anything. I don’t get you, Retro. I don’t get you at all.” Po’Boy glared without seeing the scene in front of him, ignoring the background hum of activity as cars pulled up to the gas pumps and people went in and out of the store. He was at the edge of a tiny convenience store’s parking lot, sitting at a highway junction just south of Ponchatoula, waiting on a connection who didn’t seem to be showing up today. The heat, the people, the frustration at a missed opportunity all conspired to put Po’Boy in a foul mood. “I don’t even know why I call you, man. You fuckin’ piss me off like nobody’s business. Fuck you.” He jabbed at the screen, disconnecting the call, then stared at the phone again, running through his options.
His lip lifted and he snarled at the phone when it rang again, Retro’s name back on the screen. “What?” His question was loud enough to pull a half dozen heads his direction, his anger ringing through the air.
“Po’Boy,” Retro’s voice was patient and calm, “tell me what you need.”
“I don’t know what I fuckin’ need. If I knew what I needed, I wouldn’t be calling you, that’s for damn sure.” His hand slipped across his cheeks and chin, the skin sweat-slick and bristling with a rough three days’ worth of beard. “Did Twisted or Ace talk to you?” Po’Boy knew he couldn’t ask straight out because the ‘Bama Bastards were friendly, but they were not aligned with any club. No support patch on their vests, which meant help at the level he needed would have to be called in by leadership. Forget the fact I wear an officer patch, he thought, I ain’t the shot caller for any-fuckin-thing and glad of it. “Anybody call you ‘cept me?”
“Yes.” Po’Boy waited silently, because a straight affirmative response wasn’t enough. He needed names, and Retro supplied. “I got one call, both men. The two clubs are in agreement on what needs to be done, Po’Boy. I have an all-clear to provide whatever you need, man. Tell me. Gimme somethin’ to work from. I need a point of entry.”
At those words Po’Boy pulled in a deep breath, blowing it back out as a steady stream of air. “Thank fuck. Okay, you got what happened in Texas, yeah? Best begin there, if you haven’t.” Retro’s grunt was enough response. “So you know who we fuckin’ saw there, and it was definitely a planned encounter. Fuckin’ slap in the face. Assholes. Deuces though, I can’t get it out of my head that he wants this too hard. Wants it too much. So we’ve got him lording over IMC and CoBos how he’s got the El Paso club in his pocket. I think it’s a lie. I can’t…ain’t no way people would follow that douchebag. And I’m not talking about the way the VWMC followed Leswayne, that was mostly culture and loyalty to a known entity. A founder. The Silent Deaths, man, they got no loyalty to him. Something that’s been bothering me is the level of fear we got off the men there. Every breath was like walking on eggshells. I think whoever or whatever is behind the reboot of VWMC is what ties that same bullshit club to the El Paso one. I can’t find a toehold though, brother. Can’t find where things cross. I know they do. I just can’t see it. You get me?” He finally ran out of air, slamming his lips closed, shutting off his words abruptly.
Retro’s question was quiet but intense. “Do you know who Deuces is?”
“Like, his lineage? His blood? No, should I?” Po’Boy’s tone gave away his confusion.
“Yeah, it’s key, brother. Fiddler had a sister.” Fiddler had been president of the Guanyan’s Shield MC, the CoBos’ rivals for years until he and his son incurred the wrath of Twisted, pulling the IMC into the fight. Gollum, his son, had made an arrangement with Penny which had cost her dearly. Just thinking about all the things he’d heard pissed Po’Boy off even more. He knew Retro had stood behind Twisted’s takedown of the Shield. Po’Boy had been on the field the day it happened and seen Retro and his men appear through the woods like vengeful wraiths. “That sister had a boy.”
“No shit? You sayin’ Deuces was cousins with that fuckwit Gollum? Jesus fuck me now, please. That’s bullshit, man. Deuces is Fiddler’s nephew? Jesus fuck.” His snarl returned, and it felt as if his teeth could break and splinter in his head from how hard his jaws ground together. “Where does the fucking cartel come in, man? I don’t get that at all.”
“Me, either. At least, not yet. I’ve got rumblings of things, but my net’s shockingly empty where it comes to the connection. I’m working everything I have, man. I’ll feed you what I get.” Retro paused, then his voice returned but sounded different. Quiet, guarded. “My auth only extends to you, Po’Boy. This is do-not-share territory.” He paused again, then said, “That’s my authorization, man. Who you share with is your business or club business, however you look at it. That means I can’t tell someone who needs to
know, even if I know they need to know.”
“Fuckin’ talkin’ in riddles, man. What the fuck do you mean?” Po’Boy shook his head, eyeballing two men in plain, white T-shirts who had climbed out the side door of a van parked in front of the building. The front of their shirts had been tucked into the waistband of their black cargo pants, but the backs billowed free, covering everything down to their ass. Without waiting for the door on the vehicle to close, the driver reversed out of the space, maneuvering around the side lot to the back. “Fuck, I got shit going down here.” Shouting from inside the store confirmed his instincts. “Gonna have to go. If I’m not avail for a convo, what other means you got to get me what you find?” The sound of gunshots inside the building caused his back to straighten, and he whipped his head sideways to see people pouring out of the front doors.
A young woman in a pink shirt—short and blonde, probably cute—came running through the shattered doors, but lost her footing just as another shot rang out. She was carrying something, and he watched while she managed a slow-motion twist as she was falling to protect what he now saw was a child. A toddler who clung to her neck with wiry strength. The woman finished her tumble, an act that seemed to take minutes and not the fraction of a second he knew actually passed. Then she lay in the gravel and dirt, still as death, head angled to one side, arms slowly slipping away from their cradling hold on the child.
Retro’s voice buzzed and hummed in his ear, shouting questions and demands but Po’Boy couldn’t focus on him. “Get up.” His throat hurt. “Get the fuck up. Get the fuck up.”
For a moment he was that child, but older, almost a teen. Not carried out of a conflict, but abandoned in the middle of a firefight. Huddled beside his mother’s body in a pharmacy, listening to the screams all around him, staring as her eyes looked at nothing. Even in death, they angled up and away from him as if he were disgusting. The blonde lay still, color leaching from her face and onto the fabric of her clothing. His repeated words were hoarse, scarcely audible over the revving engines of those escaping the scene. “Get the fuck up.” Two men stooped beside the woman, and when they stood, she lay there alone. A moment later the van roared past Po’Boy, a glancing view of the scuffed soles of a man’s shoes the only thing visible as the door was pulled closed.
Neither This Nor That Box Set 1 Page 45
