Chapter Thirteen
Muerto stood underthe awning on the back porch waiting for Deanna to pick up. He’d been meaning to talk to her about her attitude with Raven, but club business, his mother’s birthday party, and running the pool hall had eaten away at his time. The constant desire he felt for his tenant hadn’t helped. She was always on his mind, driving him crazy and making him shake his head in bewilderment. There was something about her that captivated him and made her irresistible. Raven fascinated and intrigued him, and he wanted to get to know her better.
“Muerto, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?” Deanna’s cheery voice pissed him off.
“What do you have against Raven?”
“Who?”
“The tenant at the duplex. She said that she told you about the garage door not working a while back and you didn’t do shit about it. Gave her some attitude. What the fuck, Deanna? Do you treat all my tenants like that? Dealing with problems at the rentals is supposed to be your job.”
“She’s lying. She’s trying to turn you against me. Has anyone else complained?”
Muerto ran his hand through his damp hair.Fuck, it’s hot today.“No.”
“Then why would I just pick on her?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I can’t see Raven making this up. She’s not the type to do shit like that.”
“You know her that well? She’s got the hots for you. I saw it that night at the pool hall. She knows you and I get along real well. She probably found out we used to date and is jealous of our relationship.”
Muerto scrunched his face. “I don’t think so. Look, she obviously rubs you the wrong way. It happens. Hell, most people rub me the wrong way. I’ll tell her to call Jay if she can’t get a hold of me. That should solve any future problems.”
“You’ve never given out your number to a tenant before. We’ve handled all the problems. Why would you give her your number?”
“’Cause I’m the owner and can do what the fuck I want. If you have to talk to her for any reason, drop the damn attitude and be civil. Let’s not make our working relationship go sour.”
“Is that all we have, a ‘working relationship’?”
“Yeah. You need to move on, Deanna.”
A dry cackle pricked his ears. “You certainly have. You didn’t even miss a fucking beat, did you?”
A deep sigh. “Just do your job. I gotta go.” He set his phone on the patio table and took out a joint, lit it, and inhaled deeply. Even though he liked the drama that ensued with citizens when he switched girls, it sometimes got to be too much. He’d made a big mistake by going out with someone who worked for him. He swore he’d never mix business and pleasure again. His short-lived affair with Deanna wasn’t worth the grief she kept giving him about it. Most of his brothers wouldn’t dream of getting involved with a citizen even for a one-night stand because the women just didn’t get it. They weren’t like the club girls or hang-arounds who were down for one night and nothing more. Citizens always wanted to make a couple of fuck sessions into a relationship with love and commitment.
So why the hell am I even entertaining wanting to get to know Raven better?Somehow, she’d pulled him in further than any other woman ever had. And if truth be told, he really didn’t know what the hell he wanted from her. He just knew that hewantedher.
“You got another one of those?” Army asked as he came up to the porch. “What the hell you doing outside in this damn heat?”
Handing him a joint, Muerto pushed away from the wall. “I was using the phone. Let’s go inside. It must be over a hundred right now.”
The two men entered the cool clubhouse and went over to the bar to join Skull, Diablo, Goldie, Paco, and Chains. Patches had a Dos Equis on the bar when Muerto came up and a shot of Jack for Army. Neither man acknowledged the prospect as they wrapped their fingers around their drinks. Prospects did the grunt work for the club without appreciation or acknowledgement unless they screwed up; then they received the wrath of a member, or the whole brotherhood if they really fucked up. All the patched members had gone through prospecting, all receiving the same treatment. Being able to don the club’s colors meant that the brother had proven himself. The Night Rebels weren’t looking for those who couldn’t hold their own with the utmost loyalty to the brotherhood.
“How’s your woman?” Diablo asked.
Chains choked on his beer while Goldie and Skull muttered, “What the fuck?” in unison.
“You got a woman?” Paco said, jerking his head back in surprise.
“No.” Muerto stared straight ahead.
“Why’d you ask that, Diablo?” Goldie placed his drink on the counter.
“’Cause he does,” Diablo answered.
“I bet it’s the long-haired chick with the perfect ass. Am I right, Diablo?” Chains’s earnest look at the sergeant-at-arms made Muerto want to punch him.
Diablo nodded, his face stoic.
