The dim lights silhouetting him allow me to drink in every angle and plane of his sculpted body. The other day, I purposely positioned myself away from him. Doing this made it impossible for him to lift me up and expose my ankle monitor, but now, his body is in full view—yup, he’s total perfection—or as Evie would say, “sex on a stick.”
His eyes are closed as I move farther into the room. Close enough to see the bruising already popping up on the skin exposed between his t-shirt and jeans. His breathing is slow and labored, and I suspect he’s in a lot more pain than he let on. Like myself, his false bravado is just a front, but I didn’t miss how his eyes clouded over when I mentioned family.
Could his story be worse than mine?
“You just gonna stand there eye-fucking me, or are you going to give me the pillow and blanket?”
I drop the linens on the end of the couch, turn and storm out of the room, again followed by his infuriating laughter. He definitely caught me ogling him, but no matter how hot or good-looking, or how big his dick, I will never let myself be used by a man again.
Chapter Fourteen
DEUCE
I lay awake for a long time after Miss Cinzia leaves the room. I love her spunky, sassy side. Like she really thought she was tougher than me.
Swear to fuck, sometimes the look in her eyes says she wants to go toe-to-toe. Not surprising she could hold her own with Bullet and Viper. She has an inner strength that colors everything she says and does, but holding out on Viper could prove deadly.
I can’t help thinking there is much more to her story. Questions I didn’t want to ask. Like, how long was she with the Dogs? And, worst of all, was she fucking both Viper and Bullet? I’d shared and passed around plenty of chicks back in the day, but thinking of that for Sammie does nothing for the pounding in my head and the pulsing of my eye, which now has a heartbeat of its own.
I long for a few shots of bourbon or the amazing pharmaceuticals we used to have at the old clubhouse, but my sassy wanna-be nurse is actually worried about me. Sure, I could go down to the bar and snag a bottle, but shit, I just don’t have the energy.
Every time I close my eyes, I envision two things: giving Viper and his punk VP Bullet what they deserve and regaining the Kings’ power in AC. Having my brothers’ backing tonight meant everything, but I didn’t miss the torment shadowing their eyes or the fact our resurrection lay on my shoulders. Sure, Ace would be right next to me, but this is my mess, and, in the end, it’s up to me to clean it the fuck up.
Then the realization that in a roundabout way, Sammie and her father had to do with the Dogs coming into money and trying to get a foothold in AC. Sammie laid it all out plain and clear, even with all that, my traitorous brain envisions the dark-haired beauty in her fuzzy robe and sheer tank top, reliving every second of our bar sex in living fuckin’ color. The way she gave it up for me, so natural with those little moans that shot right to my dick. Swear to fuck, if I wasn’t so sore, I’d jerk myself off right now.
Staring at the ceiling in the freakishly silent room, I can almost hear Sammie’s breathing. Slow, rhythmic, nothing like the constant noise of Cell Block 8. The guard’s heavy boots on metal stairs, rattling steel bars, and the haunting screams of desperate men. I’d already counted the number of stairs we climbed—twelve, and the number of exits in the apartment—one. Some prison habits don’t die. The last five years couldn’t be erased in a week.
In the end, I have to get Sammie to sell this bar to me, ‘cause there’s no fuckin’ way I’ll let Viper get his filthy paws on it. First, I have to find out what kind of hold Viper has on Sammie. Even with all she revealed tonight, I couldn’t help thinking she was still holding something back. Like maybe she already has the flash drive and money.
Viper obviously didn’t know where it was, and him threatening her tonight meant he doesn’t want me near her or The End. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll find the mystery flash drive first.
Now, I just have to figure out how much of a hold, and what leverage I can use to come out on top. Viper thought beating me would keep me down. Joke’s on him. It only makes me want to fight harder. Either way, tomorrow would come soon enough, and there was no time to waste.
The next morning, I awake to the amazing smell of coffee. I blink a few times with that wonky not-knowing-where-I-am feeling. I shift, my head pounds and my stiff, sore body throbs, making my blood rage through my veins. Those fuckers are gonna pay big.
“Did I wake you?” Sammie says from the kitchenette.
“Nah, just trying to figure out the easiest way to get up.”
I struggle to sit, and as I suspected, I feel worse today than last night. Damnedest thing about getting tuned up—the next day is always worse. My left eye is still mostly swollen shut, and the right side of my face feels tight. I slowly heave my feet to the floor, shrug on my cut, then push off the arm of the couch. I gotta take a piss in a bad way, but it’s slow going as I head for the bathroom.
After I piss, wash my hands, and splash cold water on my face, I limp back to the couch where Sammie is waiting with a steaming cup of coffee.
“I assume you take it black.”
“You assume correct.” I put the cup to my swollen lips and drink in the delicious brew. “That’s pretty good.”
“I grind my own beans. I’m kinda anal about my coffee.”
“I get it. Been a long fuckin’ time since I’ve had coffee this good.” The coffee I drank for the last five years tasted like piss water.
“So, what’s the plan?”
I ease onto the couch. “You mean for today, or my immediate future?”
“It still doesn’t look like you’ll be able to ride your Harley?—”
“But you want me to move my ass outta here, right?”
