After a quick shower and shave, I opened the door to peek out, but she wasn’t in the bed. With the towel around my waist, I went to the closet to grab a fresh pair of jeans, then grabbed a t-shirt, socks, and underwear from the drawer.
I was pulling the shirt over my head when she came in holding a mug with steam coming off the top, but she was also completely naked. Her hair was still messy and her eyes were still puffy from sleep.
“Goddamn,” I said, taking the mug and putting it on the dresser. My greedy hands pulled her close. “How do you do this to me?”
Her soft chuckle loosened the tension in my shoulders but made me squeeze her hips harder.
“What am I doing to you?” she asked, working my jeans back open.
My chest rumbled as her hand wrapped around my dick. “Distracting me.”
She grinned, but I stopped her.
“Kat,” I said as she tried to push on.
Her grin melted away and she stepped back a step. “I’m going to finish my coffee. Let me know when you’re done in the bathroom,” she said as he turned and headed back to the kitchen.
My hand wanted to chase her plump ass as it bounced with each step. Instead, I took a huge gulp of the hot coffee and cursed as it burnt my mouth.
I buttoned my jeans, then went to the bathroom and grabbed my belt from the other jeans, then fixed my hair before brushing my teeth again.
She was on the back porch, wrapped in a blanket. It hung off her shoulder, giving me a peek at her soft skin.
“I’m off for a while, but I’m done in the bathroom. Ma’s at the clubhouse but it’ll be a lighter crew for a few days.”
“Okay. Have a nice day,” she said before sipping her coffee.
Her indifference was irritating me. But this was what I wanted, right? I shouldn’t be irritated. I’d let myself get too comfortable with my wife and not been as invested in my responsibilities.
It was still early, but what we were doing would be easier during the day anyway. I texted Rooster and Red to meet me at the garage so we could leave. We had members covering their shifts at the bar until further notice. Especially with some of the officers out of town, we needed to keep it tight. Rooster arranged for two members to pick up Kristie from work since Jackal was gone.
We took off toward the city. Traffic was a bitch but I wanted to find this guy during the day due to his vocation. He’d be busy later.
Getting off the highway deep in the heart of Atlanta, we rode down Fulton Industrial to a little hole in the wall bar. The parking lot was filled with potholes, not much different than 285, but not filled with vehicles. But the classic Cutlass with aftermarket rims on low profile tires was parked out front.
Blue, the owner of Peaches-N-Cream who we recently paid a visit to, mentioned this guy, so Keys checked him out. Randall “Juicy” James was a long-time pimp that supposedly catered to not only run-of-the-mill Johns, but the occasional celebrity clientele. Atlanta filmed a lot of movies and had a lot of music studios. Not to mention all the sports that drew in people with money who needed discretion.
We’d never dealt with this guy so I wasn’t sure what to expect. But we were coming just to talk, not impede on his business.
It was clear by the looks from the folks on the street and once we walked inside, they weren’t intimidated by us. The place was small, dimly lit, and smoke clouded the space. There weren’t many spots left that you could still smoke inside in Georgia, but if it was twenty-one and up, it was fair game. After the long ride, I figured why not and reached for my pack.
The man behind the bar pulled a pistol up really fast. “Freeze, mutha fucka,” he said as he steadied the gun at me.
Rooster and Red had already pulled theirs out, and I wanted my cigarette so I went for it. Holding up the pack, I said, “Can I offer you a smoke?”
“You think you’re funny?” a deep voice asked from a dark corner over the low hum of rap music and steady bass.
Pulling a cigarette from the pack, then lighting it, I said, “Just trying to be polite. Looking for Juicy.”
“Who’s asking?” the bartender barked out.
“I’m Hawk. This is Rooster and Red,” I said, pointing to them. “Just came for some intel.”
The man in the corner stood; the others in the bar, only a handful of them or so, didn’t move their eyes from us. He walked out enough to get a glimpse of him. Dark skin, fresh fade, and a sharp tan suit. It took a second for my eyes to adjust but there were two men standing behind him in the dark with assault rifles trained on us.
Still, I took a drag off my smoke and let him size me up.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
