13. Blake
13
BLAKE
“Listen up, shitheads!” Ozzie yells at the crowded bar room floor. “Meetings about to start, motherfuckers! We’ve got some real important shit going down, so clean that wax outta your ears and pay attention!”
Mace scrubs a hand over his brow as if pained by a terrible headache. “Ozzie, that’s not what I meant when I said get the meeting started and you fucking know it.”
In typical class clown fashion, Ozzie flashes Mace a smile. “But it got their attention. That’s all that matters, right?”
Several of the guys around the room boo him. A couple chuck crumpled napkins at him. He takes it in stride, his smile only growing as he opens his arms up for a hug.
“I love you shitheads too!”
“Down to business.” Mace rises up from his seat at the head table and peers around at the room of Steel Kings gathered for our monthly meeting. “The rumors are out there. You’ve probably heard about the shit that’s knocking at our door.”
“Is it true?” calls out Ulysses “Mudd” Rudley from his table. His moniker matches his grungy, grimy appearance. Including the crumbs of food trapped in his beard. “Is the law cracking down on us?”
Murmurs break out among some of the guys. Some angrier and more militant than others.
“Hey!” Mace yells over everybody. “Did I tell you to break off in side chatter like a bunch of gossiping hens? Shut the hell up and listen to the bottom line.”
“Told you,” Ozzie coughs. “Shitheads.”
“It’s impossible to say all of what they do know. Stein’s insider knows for a fact they’re building some kinda case. Fallout from the feud with the Hellrazors and Road Rebels.”
“They don’t got shit,” Mudd rasps to a few chortles from the others.
Mace gestures to me. “Cash, tell ’em the rest.”
Everybody’s attention shifts. I’ve been seated at the head table all along, more silent observer than participant. I stand up and get straight to the point.
“I’ve got reason to believe the boys in blue are already watching us.”
“And you know that how?” asks Johnny Flanagan, tipping back in his chair, arms crossed.
“Because there’s a new sergeant on the force by the name of Ken Stricklin, and he’s a piece of shit.”
“This about that chick you’ve got at the Chop Shop? The one from our school days?” Flanagan says with a curl of his lips. “That sure sounds like personal beef, Cash. Why should I care if some chick got in a little scuffle with her husband?”
“I never said you should care, Flanagan,” I say, my patience lost. “But you keep referring to Kori out of her name, you’re gonna find my boot lodged up your ass.”
The room erupts in laughs at Flanagan’s expense. He falls silent for the rest of the meeting.
“Like I was saying, Stricklin and the rest of ‘em have us on their radar. Which means anything we do is gonna have to be careful. Well thought out.”
“Let me guess,” Bush chimes in, slamming down his beer stein. “We’re going to be doing some shady nocturnal activities.”
“That sounds pretty damn accurate,” says Ozzie.
“We’ll have to be smart about it. Strategic in any steps we make.”
Mudd strokes his knotted beard as if unsure. “So have we set up our next deal with the Barreras? Our partnership with ’em is still rocky. Haven’t forgotten about that last time they tried to short us on some trank. If we know the law’s got an eye on us, is it worth the trouble?”
“You don’t have to participate. This mission’s going to be kept small. Only a handful of guys. You probably already know who you are.”
Mace rises up again, clamping a hand to my shoulder. “Cash’ll be leading this one. It’ll be kept small for discretion. All our drug and armament deals are going to have to be more underground ’til we’ve got them off our back. That includes the gambling rings.”
A collective groan echoes through the saloon.
The meeting carries on for another forty minutes. I’ve long tuned out by its end.
A thousand other thoughts occupy my head. My mind’s mapping out the deal we’ll soon be carrying out with the Barreras cartel, obsessing over even the smallest things that could go wrong. I’m preoccupied with thoughts of Korine at the Chop Shop and how fucking sexy she looks in the coveralls, bent over a bike as she repairs it. Then I’m feeling like a creepy horndog for even letting my mind go there.
She’s not even officially divorced yet. She’s still struggling with the aftermath of her relationship with her piece of shit husband and I’m over here fantasizing about something that’s never going to happen.
The thing is, it’s been a while. Over a month.
I’m not used to going this long without female touch. Without charming some woman around town into bed. And though I could any night if I wanted to—I’ve got no commitment to anyone—I’m holding back.
The idea of hooking up with some chick I’ve picked up at the bar couldn’t sound less appealing.
It feels… wrong.
I force myself to stop digging for the reason why. Deep down I know what’s got me feeling that way, but it’s not something I can think about.
Korine is off limits. It’s got to stay that way.
“Alright,” Mace says to quiet down the ribble-rabble going on toward the end of the meeting. “That’s enough for today. Get the hell out my face and go enjoy yourselves.”
Several Kings explode in cheers, slamming their beer steins together, spilling Texas Brew everywhere. Nobody cares. Not even the barmaids. They simply laugh and shake their heads in scolding, knowing damn well it’s expected out of these gatherings.
I’m about to dip out sight unseen when Melody, one of the barmaids, releases a shriek. The only guy not immediately getting drunk off his ass, I jut my chin at her. “What’s up? Something wrong?”
“The cops! They’re headed this way!” she chokes out, turning to me with big, round eyes.
“Fuck.” I check over her shoulder out the bar window.
Sure enough, two police officers in uniform approach the doors. One is some string bean, smug-looking asshole I’ve never seen, and the other is none other than Kenneth Stricklin. They walk like they believe they own the streets. As if they believe they own our fucking club bar too. I turn around to address the bar room floor.
“Listen up—we’ve got visitors!”
Barely another few seconds pass before the saloon doors swing open and they barge in. Things go from loud and rowdy to so quiet you could hear a fucking piece of lint flutter to the floor.
Mace meets them halfway, his expression representing the steel we’re named after.
Stricklin and the other officer share looks. The two assholes are here to cause shit. That much couldn’t be clearer. They stand clutching their belts and peering around the crowded bar like it’s their territory to rule. They couldn’t be more mistaken.
“Can we help you?” Mace asks.
The officer with Stricklin answers with a shrug. “We’re here for a drink. Ain’t that what this is—a bar that serves refreshments?”
“This is our club. Kings only,” Mace says.
He and Stricklin share another look. “Are you aware that, by law, you’re required to serve everybody during business hours?”
“We’re closed. Now get the hell out of here.”
Stricklin’s cheek twitches as his attention shifts beyond Mace. He’s peering right at me from over Mace’s shoulder. “Seems like you’re hiding something. You boys wouldn’t happen to be up to no good, would you? We might be forced to take action.”
I rush over, cutting a path in between where Mace stands and the two pieces of shit hover. “What part of we’re closed don’t you fucking understand?”
“Cash!”
Mace catches me with a hand to my chest, holding me back before I can make it any closer to the dipshits. He holds me back from ever doing what I was about to do. Others like Ozzie and Bush interject themselves too—they break apart from the rest of the bar and put themselves between me and the two officers.
Neither Stricklin nor his pot-bellied partner have budged an inch. They remain where they are, as mocking as ever. They wait ’til the commotion’s died down to remind us yet again what pieces of shit they are.
“Be careful, boys,” says Stricklin. He stares at me and me only. “You just might be asking for trouble. C’mon, Symonds.”
We stand in furious silence watching them go.
* * *
“You… you really think you can just… delete us out of your life?” slurs Bill on the voice recording he left. His pitch grows higher the more pissed he becomes. “You’ve always been a… a disappointment. Your mother should’ve… swall… swallowed your ass.”
I shake my head, cutting the message short and pressing delete. His number had shown up as unknown on my caller ID. I’d listened to the voicemail in case it was from someone important. Korine calling from another phone about a run-in with Stricklin or Sunny in need of help. Even somebody from the club.
All guesses that were wrong—it was nobody but my drunk of a father calling to drag me through the mud, like always. Should I expect different after twenty-eight years of living and breathing his shit?
And Mom has the guts to scold me for refusing to turn up at family dinner.
I ride my FXDB Street Bob straight home from the club. Korine’s got no clue about the police stopping by the club because she was off today. It’s just more evidence her dirtbag ex refuses to back off.
She can’t know about what he pulled today. It’ll only upset her more. Something she doesn’t need right now.
Pulling up outside the trailer, I take a moment to collect myself. My shoulders sag and I close my eyes, shutting out the loud static in my head.
Stress about what’s been going on. Frustration over the theatrics that my parents bring into my life.
I’ve got to be there for Korine and Sunny.
Which means I can’t relapse into bad habits. Things I used to do in the past that would take the edge off.
Korine doesn’t need that Cash coming back.
It’s a lot of pressure. More pressure than I’ve ever felt before. I can’t fuck this up like I always fuck things up.
I enter through the front door to the sight of her folded up on the floor, a circle of photographs and yearbooks surrounding her. Her eyes light up at the sight of me.
“Blake, you’re home. Perfect timing! Guess what I’m looking at?”
“Those aren’t old photos of us, are they?”
Her eyes gleam even brighter, looking like chocolate diamonds caught in the light. “Yes! I hadn’t realized I’d grabbed my old yearbooks and a box of photos when we picked up my things.”
“Let me see.” I head over to where she’s sitting on the floor and then plop down onto the edge of my couch. She hands over a stack of photos. Nostalgia hits at once. I crack a smile. “Damn, I forgot Mace went through that goatee phase.”
A laugh bubbles out of her. “He swore it made him look like a man.”
“Look at this—Miss Korine McKibbens at her track meet, holding up the gold medal she won.” I show her the photo from the stack and watch the shocked horror that pushes her brows together.
She plucks the photo out of my hand. “Oh god, why the hell did I smile so wide with those damn braces? I look like a dork.”
“Cutest dork in school with those braces. You were proud. You placed first in the whole county.”
“Thanks for the reminder. You look in the yearbook yet? It’s bookmarked.”
By the taunting lilt of her voice, I know I’m in for a doozie. I crack open the yearbook and then roar with laughter at what she’s circled with a pen.
“Most likely to be the next American Gigolo, Blake Cash,” I say, my laughs deep and raspy. “I forgot about this. Everybody voted me as a prank.”
“And because you were always flirting with every damn woman within a ten mile radius.”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
Korine rolls her eyes, pushing herself up off the floor and retreating to the kitchen. It’s the first time I notice she’s clutching a drink that’s almost empty. The last couple swallows of amber liquid, she gulps down.
I cock a brow. “That what I think it is?”
“I found the bottle in your cabinet. You don’t mind, do you?” she asks. “I’ll replace?—”
“Anything in my home is yours to use without any expectation, Kori. You already know that. I’m more shocked you’re…”
“What? Drinking?” She unscrews the cap of the White Oak Whiskey I’d bought at a low point and then pours herself some more. “I guess I just… needed something to calm my nerves.”
“Anything bad happen today?”
She shakes her head, the glass grazing her lips during a moment of pause. “Things have been so… stressful lately, I’m still adjusting. A month ago I would’ve never imagined filing for divorce. I would’ve never been brave enough.”
I follow her to the entrance of the kitchen as she tosses back another mouthful of whiskey. Being around somebody drinking is nothing new to me; I’ve done it a thousand times since becoming sober. It’s a given when I spend most of my free time at the Steel Saloon.
But something’s different about watching the liquor touch Korine’s tongue. Her throat bobs as the whiskey works its way into her system. The stress I’d tried to shut out moments ago presses back down on me, reminding me of how much relief a simple drop could bring.
Just one tiny, insignificant drop.
Would it be so damn bad if I gave in and quenched this urge that’s only growing stronger? The more problems seem to pile up, the more burden that’s placed onto me, the harder it’s become to resist. I’ve got to find a release somewhere, in something.
Korine has no idea. She’s got no clue the effect she’s having on me. Why would she when she doesn’t know the full story?
She might know about Bill and what happened that night, but she doesn’t know the why…
I breathe through the urge with a deep, ragged breath and a clench of my jaw.
“It’s hard, you know,” Korine continues, wearing a contemplative frown. “Accepting failure and picking yourself up after it. But I have to be there for Mama. That’s my biggest priority.”
“The MC discussed your situation at our meeting. We’re paying for her insurance—for both of your insurance. We’ve got the funds.” She opens her mouth to tell me it’s not necessary, but since I know Korine and can predict everything she says, I cut her off before she gets started. “We’re doing it, Kori. So no use protesting. We’ll make you full time at the shop. For now… ’til you decide if you want to work somewhere else. Then at least you’ll be getting full-time benefits.”
She blows out a breath, a few of her short hairs swept across her forehead, flicking up as if a gust of wind has come through. It’s a sigh of relief and gratitude as her gaze meets mine and she thanks me.
There’s still something else. I see it as soon as she’s dared look over at me. Another demon that’s got a grip on her even if she doesn’t want to let me know what. I’m pretty damn good at figuring her out considering I’ve known her since she was a small girl.
“You saw him again,” I predict, tamping down on the instant rage. “Is that what else is going on? ’Cuz there’s something else, Kori. Something that’s got you tossing back whiskey .”
“I just needed a drink.”
“What’d he do this time? Pull you over again on the side of the road? Send more flowers? Leave a dozen more voice mails?”
“I want you to stay away from him,” she says.
My anger ratchets up even more. It dials up ’til my mouth’s snapped shut and I’m busting at the seams, seconds away from tearing off. She sees it in me, because the almond shape of her eyes widens, flickering with worry.
So Stricklin not only harassed me and the club today, but he’s been following Korine.
“He come around you?” I grit out. “He threaten you?”
“Blake—”
“I’ve held off, Kori. I’ve kept from going after him ’cuz you begged me not to. You begged me not to get mixed up with attacking a police officer. But I’m not gonna tolerate it—I’m not gonna let him fucking harass you! So tell me! What the fuck did he do this time?”
She flinches at the aggression, the volume in my voice. Her grip on the whiskey glass tightens, though she otherwise stands her ground. I’ve refrained from raising my voice and showing my temper around Korine, out of sympathy and consideration for what she’s been through with her shithead ex-husband.
But I’ve had my fill. I’ve let him get away with enough.
“I don’t know for sure,” she murmurs. “I could be paranoid.”
“Kori.”
“I think he was… I’m pretty sure he’s been following me. Him and his partner, Coates. I’ve spotted them different times around town. In the area… but at a distance. Earlier today when Mama and I were out grocery shopping…”
“How about I go make him stop?”
I’m headed out the door just like that. Keys clenched inside my fist and boots clacking on the wood flooring, I cross the space with my mind made up. Korine calls after me, rushing out from behind the kitchen counter. I stop only when she catches up and cuts me off.
“Blake, please,” she whispers. Her hands reach for my chest, gentle against the hardness of it. She peers up at me, her expression imploring, her beauty enough to put me under her spell.
My skin warms and my pulse climbs. None of it reflects on my face—on the outside, I’m as composed as I usually am—but damn if Korine doesn’t still have a hold on me. The second she’s pinning me with that soft, sultry, pleading look in her eye, she’s pulled me into her orbit. She’s the sun that’s the nexus of my universe.
I’m powerless to do anything but bask in her light.
Because that’s what Korine has always been for me. A light of hope in the bleakest darkness.
“Alright,” I say, forcing down my rage. Forcing down the equally strong desire I’ve got for her. “If you don’t want me confronting him, I won’t.”
…that you’ll know about.
Her face eases into a relieved smile. “Why do I feel like I just talked a wild beast down from an attack?”
“’Cuz that’s basically what you did.”
“Now what?”
I think, trying to circle back to the playful air we’d had looking at the photographs. “So,” I say slowly. “About you being jealous.”
She smacks a hand to my chest. “Blake, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not jealous of you wanting to stick your dick in every vagina you come across!”
The corner of my mouth cants slightly. “You sure about that? Because you’re sounding real irritated right now. Almost like it brings out feelings of envy in you?—”
“You are so bigheaded!”
“Just admit you’re jealous, Kori, and I’ll never bring it up again.”
“I’d rather eat glass! I’ve never been jealous of you and your parade of conquests a day in my life,” she laughs, shoving more at my chest.
I take it in stride ’til I’m gripping her by the wrists to hold her off. We’re locked into a back-and-forth tussling dance as she tries to push at me and I hold onto her. Then I pull her closer, the laughter between us falling freely. The playful air infectious and unstoppable. We push and pull like this for a while.
Korine’s brown eyes bright. Her face beautiful with glee. Mine bowed down toward her. Gaze fixated on every inch ’til it drops down and focuses solely on one thing and one thing only—those damn lips of hers.
It’s a volcanic eruption. Temptation gone too far, exploding all at once. We reach the realization at the same time. We go for it, swooping in to meet in the middle in a kiss that’s wild and uninhibited.
My arm cinches around Korine’s slim waist and her hands reach up to touch the roughness of my beard. Our lips explore each other’s for the first time in years; for the first time since we were teenagers discovering what it was like to feel such immediate intense pleasure.
And it’s no different a decade later. If anything, it’s more intense, more explosive. Hot and breathless. Passionate as I kiss the fuck out of Korine and she gasps and slides fingers into my golden mane.
I squeeze her hips and walk her back several steps ’til we’re banging into the end table pressed up against the wall. Then I’m hoisting her up and plopping her down on top of it, angling her head so I can taste more of that delicious, addictive mouth of hers. The sweetness of it, the sheer heat, the little notes she products… all of it drives me up the wall.
I growl, kissing her harder. Enough to consume her. Overwhelm her. Make it clear she’s fucking mine and always will be.
My girl that’s in my heart. That’s in my head. That belongs by my side and damn sure belongs in my bed.
Ten years, and not once have I ever stopped thinking about her. It’s always been her.
It takes all the restraint I have not to rip her clothes off here and now. As our mouths devour each other’s and we produce throaty moans at the feel of each other’s lips, it takes everything to keep me from carrying her off.
But I already know Korine’s filling up with guilt—the explosive heat begins to cool and her hands come up to my chest to nudge me away. Soon she’s pulling back from our kiss, turning her head from mine, heaving out deep breaths.
“Blake…” she puffs. “We can’t…”
All I can do is utter her name. So I do. Just as breathless and dazed as she is. “Kori…”
“Dinner. I’ll get started on dinner.”
She hops down from the table, ducking out from under me, and hurries for the kitchen. I expel another hitched breath from my lungs and run fingers through my messy hair.
What the hell just happened?
* * *
That evening, we don’t mention earlier. Sunny’s our buffer, clueless and unknowing as to what happened between us just hours ago. She cracks jokes in typical Sunny fashion, teasing the two of us at different points in time. Korine meets my eyes from across the dinner table, the expression on her face almost panicked.
And, fuck, does she look beautiful even now—her naturally dusky pink lips still kiss-swollen, a flushed glow about her, short hair tousled.
I’d love nothing more than to take her to bed. Make her remember how I’d once given her so much pleasure, she saw stars. That was a decade ago. I could have her seeing whole galaxies now…
These thoughts that feel both inappropriate yet so damn arousing have me cleaning off my plate. I go for seconds, devouring the pot roast Korine prepared like I really want to devour her.
We spend the rest of the evening avoiding it. Sunny asks to turn in early, citing a pounding headache. Korine helps her to bed while I sit by the window and strategize over the club’s upcoming drug deal. She eventually comes out wearing a nervous smile.
“Want to watch a movie?” she asks. “Like old times?”
I cock a brow. “You sure you’re alright being around me? After…”
She rakes teeth over her bottom lip. “Stay on your side of the sofa. I’ll stay on mine.”
“What are we, fourteen again?”
“Yes, if it means you’ll behave yourself.”
I get up off the recliner and cross the living room. “I never behaved myself. You know better than that.”
“True,” she concedes, folding her legs up on the sofa. She spears me with a stern look. “But at that age you knew better than to ever try to touch me.”
“Probably ’cuz I knew your father had ESP and would show up out of nowhere to toss me out the door.”
We both laugh at the truthfulness of the statement. Mr. McKibbens had always been (rightfully) protective of his daughter. That’s not even getting into her older brother, Shawn.
Korine scoffs. “As if you were even interested. You treated me like one of the guys. It wasn’t ’til after I started dating that you seemed to notice I was, in fact, a girl.”
“How would you know?”
It’s amusing watching Korine’s subtle surprise flicker in and out. She opens her mouth to reply, then closes it again as if unable to think anything up. The movie starts and we redirect our attention, settling into the awkward kind of tension we’d had during dinner.
I don’t regret it—Korine’s convinced I had never noticed how pretty she was when we were kids. The nice way she smelled and how my stomach rippled whenever she’d grab my hand or touch me in any way. I just hadn’t known how to act on those feelings ’til I was older.
’Til other girls had given me the confidence I needed for my dream girl.
I’d always worried I wasn’t good enough for her.
We watch two movies before Korine drifts off to sleep. I do what I’ve done so many times over the past couple weeks and cover her with a blanket once she does nod off. Most nights I’ve been functioning off three or four hours of sleep passed out in the recliner. Tonight’ll be no different.
In the heavy silence engulfing the trailer, I move to check the locks on the door and peek out the window. It’s in the naked dark surrounding the trailer outside that I spot the police cruiser parked feet away near the ravine. Headlights blink on as if aware I’m watching, then the car pulls away.
My eyes narrow, my glare full of immediate hatred and rage.
That fucking does it. That’s the last fucking straw.
Ken Stricklin refuses to keep his distance. He refuses to stay away from Korine. He thinks he’s gonna intimidate her, harass her, and much worse…
He’s got a real wakeup call coming. I’ll have his blood on my hands soon enough.