Chapter 11
Willa
“What the hell is he doing over there?” I mutter to myself from behind my lacy curtain.
Dammit, have I turned into a curtain twitcher? I drop my curtain and step away from the window when I catch Joy leaving her little chocolate box house, coming up the little path toward mine. Maybe I can ask her what the hell Switch is up to.
“Knock knock!” Joy calls as she knocks and opens the door at the same time. I love this little change in her.
“Miss Joy,” I reply, pouring her a cup of fruity tea I know she likes into a to-go cup.
“Aw, how did you know that’s what I needed this morning?” She says, plopping her ass down, resting her elbows on the counter and cradling her face in her hands.
“Been a morning?”
“Been a few days,” she says rolling her eyes before she makes a little squeak and her cheeks flush.
I give her an assessing look before turning and pouring myself a cup. “Oh? Would it have anything to do with the big, ginger man in your house constantly watching my house?”
“What?” Joy’s eyes get round in her face. “That’s crazy! Nope. No way, he’s just researching…guttering.”
“Guttering, you say?”
“Yup. He ah, really likes your gutters.” She stares at me, her hand sneaking toward her to-go cup. She snatches it up and hot foots it out the door. “I don’t know anything!” The door slams behind her and I snort.
She’s come a long way, but the girl can’t lie for shit.
I blow at the hot steam of my tea before taking a refreshing sip and moving to the little breakfast nook where I can sit, and stare back at Switch.
I have a good idea why the hell he’s in Joy’s house watching me.
The same reason I noticed Tav doing it last night, Nitro doing it yesterday morning and Judge doing it the day before.
Pulling up my appointments calendar I flick through today’s appointments, my heart stuttering a little when my gaze hits one name in particular. Oh, today is going to be a great day. I’ve got my tea, a light day of appointments, and I’m about to get to the bottom of this.
****
I hum as I clean away the towels from my last appointment and ready the room a little. Nothing too fancy, just start the vaporiser with a little scented oil, change the music to something less relaxing, get the massage oil warming, that sort of thing.
I’m in a suspiciously great mood according to my last client, and I couldn’t tell her that’s because I have a special guest coming in.
Am I nervous to have my hands on swathes of his tanned, tattooed skin?
Yes. But am I practically buzzing at the thought of attacking that one particular knot in his shoulder that’ll make him squeal like a stuck pig while I question why the hell he has his brothers all up in my business? Hell yes!
I clasp my hands together, rolling my wrists to loosen them up a little then stretching each and every finger. I’ve been doing this a long time, have strong hands, but I like to stretch and warm up between clients and this next client needs me on point.
The little bell over my door rings and I move to greet my client. “Hello, Miles.”
Mad Dog’s brows pinch a little in confusion, but that doesn't stop me noticing how his gaze darkened just a little at my use of his government name.
“Willa. How are ya, babe?”
“Oh, I’m having a great day. Follow me, we’ll get you set up.” I decide to pull back a little, using his government name not only did something to him, but the look he gave me knocked me off center just a little.
“That’s great,” Mad Dog says, looking around the store. Not in an interested in buying something way, no, more in a casing the joint type of way.
“You good?”
His gaze snaps to mine as he clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little tight in the hammies. I think it’s pulling on my lower back a little.”
I nod, waving the way down the short hall, leading him to my therapy room.
“OK, so hammies and lower back?” He grunts, removing his cut and hanging it on the hook on the wall. “What about your shoulder?”
He lifts his arm then rolls his shoulder, “Shit, yeah, that’s a little stiff too. Although I’m old, everything is a little stiff.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth his shocked gaze meets my shocked gaze and I know both of us have the same damn dirty thought. Shit a brick, Willa, quick, get back on neutral ground!
“That’s what she said.” I blurt out before spinning to check my oil warmer.
Mad Dog’s warm laughter fills the room, and it’s nice. It also centers me a little. No more thinking of Mad Dog’s stiff bits. Nope. I have a mission to complete.
“OK, so I’ll leave you to take off your things, just pop them in the cubbies over there. We’ll start face down. I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Sure thing, babe.” His gruff voice follows me out the door and I lean on the wall, not thinking about Mad Dog stripping down in my place of work.
Turning toward the door I rest my hands on the smooth, cream wood I painted myself when I first opened Wild Remedy.
Everything here, as at home, I have done myself.
To make a space in the world that belongs only to me.
And yet on the other side of this door is a man that made me feel things that I never thought I would ever feel again after Diesel.
That’s what makes Mad Dog so dangerous. In some ways he and Diesel are cut from the same cloth.
Bossy. Over-protective. Bikers. In other ways, they’re like night and day.
Mad Dog would never tell me what to wear or what to do.
But his brothers are watching you. The thought slams into my brain and it’s just what I need to get my head in the game.
I have questions and that man is about to give me answers.
Knocking gently I wait for Mad Dog’s gruff “come in” before pushing through the door.
My steps stutter a little when I get a glimpse of his large body on the table, his arms hanging loose off the sides, his wide, muscular back the perfect canvas for the large DRMC patch that covers from the base of his neck to just above the two dimples in his lower back.
Jesus hell. I check for drool and then remember that I’ve seen him shirtless before.
Pull yourself together, Willa! You’ve seen hot men before.
I pep talk myself and I have no idea if it’s working or not.
Taking a deep breath I blow it out, rolling my shoulders and step up to the table.
I may have no control over my hormones or vagina at the moment but dammit I’m a fucking professional so I’ll act like one.
I place my hands on his back, his warm skin smooth beneath my touch as I assess him. “Jesus, Mad Dog, you’re all messed up back here.” He grunts softly and I keep probing. “Hammies and lower back you said?”
“Yeah, ah, I think I slept wrong.”
“Oh?” I raise a brow even though he can’t see me. “You don’t think it could have been the 11 minutes of hobby horsing the other day?”
His big body jiggles on the bed as he chuckles and I get to work. Massage therapy isn’t just therapeutic for my client, but also for me. I get to bask in the stillness, connecting with another human.
“That feels real good, Willa,” Mad Dog mumbles and I lean in a little more.
Long strokes starting from the base of his back, moving up his body.
It’s intimate, more intimate than what we’ve shared before.
In those moments we were two lonely people looking for a release.
It was a tangle of teeth and tongues, body parts slapping, sweat, moans, then goodbyes.
No whispered words, no sweet nothings. This?
My hands on him, caring for him, helping him, on top of what we’ve been building in recent times? Yeah, this is pretty damn intimate.
Which means I need to ruin the moment.
“So, why are your brothers spying on me?”
Mad Dog
Shit. She may not have me by the short and curlies, but I’m still naked, face down on her massage table with her hands on my back. And damn if they don’t feel fucking amazing.
“Ah, what brothers?”
“You know them. Switch. Tav. Judge. Need I go on? In fact, Rider was acting all squirrely the other day.”
“Was he? How weird.” I hiss when she hits a particularly sore spot in my shoulder.
“Oh, is that a little tender?” She feigns concern but I know she’s back there with that determined set to her jaw that she sometimes gets.
“No,” I reply in a voice two octaves higher than usual.
“So, why are your brothers spying on me?”
“They’re not-ah, fuck!”
She presses harder, the knot in my shoulder crunching under her evil fingers. “Are you sure?”
“They’re not spying.”
“Oh?”
“No, they’re, ah, ow! Shit, Willa, argh, they’re just keeping an eye on things.”
Her hands still, but she doesn't remove them. The warmth of them feels good on my skin, and I’m fucking glad I’m on my front, my hard cock pressed against the padded leather of the table beneath me.
“Keeping an eye on what things, Mad Dog?”
The way she spits my name makes my balls draw up. “Just…general things.”
“General things, huh?” She asks, resuming her work.
She skirts away from that gnarly knot in my shoulder, her hands drifting toward the backs of my thighs. She flips the towel covering my ass up just a little, and warm oil hits the back of my thighs. I disguise my groan with a cough and pray to all that is holy that she’s accepted my explanation.
“So, general things like my gutters?”
My eyes close and I try to keep my breathing steady. Fucking Switch. “Who told you that? Switch?”
“Joy. Apparently he’s very interested in them.”
“They’re nice gutters.” Her thumb digs into a soft part in the back of my leg that I never knew existed and my body jolts like she’s just hit it with a live wire. “Motherfucker!”
“Yeah, it is a motherfucker, isn't it? You, you, you big fat liar liar pants on fire!” She says before slapping the back of my thigh, her long fingers breathtakingly close to hitting my balls.
Which, as much as I’d love her to touch my balls I really don’t want them slapped, no matter how attractive I find Willa.
“Fine! Dammit, they’re watching you.”
“Aha! I knew it! I’m not an idiot, you know.” She grits out, “Why the hell are they watching me?”
“They’re more like, watching out for you.”
“Oh, well, that makes it different,” she says dramatically and I don’t think her tone sounds all that over the moon about the situation.
“It is different.”
“Without telling me? Like what the hell, dude?”
I stare down at the floor through the weird table face hole.
“Mad Dog?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Of an alibi?”
“No. A way to explain it without losing a testicle.”
Willa snorts, her hands absently moving up and down my thighs. I’m not even sure she knows that’s what she's doing. Blowing out a breath I know I have to be honest.
“Diesel is Quarter Mile MC.”
“I’m pretty sure I told you that.”
I snort, “Yeah you did, babe.”
“So? What’s the problem?”
“Problem is this new club of his has moved into Roxburgh. The old Death Riders compound.”
“What the hell?”
“Yeah. But shit ain't right.”
Her hands leave my body and I mourn the loss of connection. I know we agreed on being friends but the woman has magic hands.
“How do you mean?” Her voice sounds tight. I know that she's seen and survived some shit in her life.
“They’ve moved in but they ain’t living there. No parties, front door and windows still boarded up. But the warehouse at the back is full of shit.”
“What kind of shit?”
“Stolen shit. Drugs. Drugs that don’t belong to them.”
The silence is deafening. “They’re moving things?”
“Looks like it.”
Her hands resume on my lower back, long strokes moving up to my shoulders, before starting at my lower back again. We sit in silence, Willa slowly loosening muscles that haven't been worked in a while. Her skirt swishes when she steps away, then she’s back, and warm oil drips onto my thighs.
“Diesel is a logistics type of guy. Moving shit is his specialty. It’s what got him put away,” She finally says.
“He’s a problem, Willa.”
“No shit, Mad Dog,” she barks out before sighing. “Look, he’s an asshole and I’ve moved on. Like way the hell on. I don’t want anything to do with him, but you gotta know he can be dangerous. Whatever he’s doing, whatever this new MC he’s part of is doing, it won't be good.”
I let her words percolate. Anyone can see Diesel is dangerous. He’s the type to stab you as soon as look at you. But the fact that he has the intelligence to work logistics makes him even more dangerous. That’s a man that has patience.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Depends what it is.”
“What did Diesel go to prison for, exactly?”
She takes a deep breath, then blows it out slowly.
“Diesel was never a dealer. Didn’t do any of the sales part of the business, so to speak.
He was purely the guy who moved shit. Picked it up in one place, dropped it off somewhere else.
Then his luck ran out and he was charged with possession with intent to distribute. ”
I frown. “If he was never a dealer, how the hell did they catch him on that charge?”
“There may have been a tip off.”
I freeze. “You tipped the law off?”
Willa doesn’t slow her ministrations. In fact, she starts massaging more vigorously. “I may have mentioned where he’d be. And what was in the truck.”
Fuck. If things weren’t bad enough with the Quarter Mile MC the next town over, we now have Willa’s ex, who she fucking put away, sniffing around.
“Babe, does Diesel know it was you who sent him down?”
Her hands still for a split second. “There’s no way. Half the crew had already gone down for various things. They had a mole. That wasn’t me, by the way.”
“OK. That’s good. That’s great. But, I gotta say, as friends and all, it would make me feel a lot fucking better if you would just let me have someone watching out for you. Please?”
My request is met with silence, and I’ve had enough of having this damned conversation with my eyes on the plush carpet.
Sitting up, I grip the towel covering me, and pull it around a little so I’m not having this conversation with my balls hanging out.
Willa’s green gaze follows me, her plump lip pulled between her teeth.
“Did you just ask my permission for something?”
“Yup. Don’t get too used to it.” I wink.
“OK.”
“OK?”
“Yeah, OK. I may be stubborn as a goddamn mule, but Diesel on a good day is an asshole. If he’s into bad shit? He’ll be an absolute nightmare.”
A smile tugs on my lips and the weight I felt was crushing me seems to lift a little.
“Now that’s sorted, get back on the bed. You have ten more minutes of massage then I’ll set you free to tell Switch his job just got a whole lot easier.”
“Thank you, Babe.”
“You’re welcome, Miles.