Three
3
Tex
Taking a long pull from the Corona, I watched Nina squealing and screaming like she was at an actual Aerosmith concert while the band covered “Cryin’.” The lead singer was doing a poor imitation of Steven Tyler. Jars chuckled as he held her on his lap, as if someone was going to take his old lady from him. His possessive shit with her almost made me believe in love. Almost.
Nina’s long hot-pink nails wiggled in the air, and the tattooed ring around her finger made me grin and shake my head. That had been a Jars thing too. He’d wanted to make sure she couldn’t take off her wedding ring, so he’d made it permanent. I was there the night she had it done. Jars had been holding her in his lap then too.
Damn, I missed being here full-time.
My gaze moved over to our vice president of The Judgment MC, Micah, who was whispering to his pretty little wife, Dolly, while he wrapped his arms around her from behind. That shit was never going to get old. Seeing the biggest man slut I’d ever fucking known get addicted to one cunt. I couldn’t think of a bigger sweetheart than Dolly either. She was too good for him, and he knew it. But thanks to her, he no longer used my room to fuck bitches. I’d been ready to kill the motherfucker the next time I caught him in there.
I kept waiting for Prez to hand over the president title to Micah. Liam Walsh, the president of the MC, had moved to Ocala a couple of years ago to run Devil’s, the strip club we owned there. All our other clubs were in or around Miami. That one had been purchased when he found his daughter living there with the fucking boss of the Southern Mafia. He’d been looking for her for nineteen years, and he wanted to live near her. Now, he had two grandsons, a wife, and a baby boy. His family had grown, and his life revolved around them.
My life, it was here. This club. It was my family. The only one I had. Going to Ocala and staying for weeks at a time to help Prez manage things was getting old. Prez had his old lady, who was almost twenty years younger than him, and his baby to go home to at night. I was left at the club with the guys and the strippers. Not that I was complaining. Lots of hot, willing pussy to choose from each night, but, damn, I had that here.
Lifting my hand slightly, I motioned for Amethyst. She’d been one of our most popular strippers here in Miami until a year ago, when she finally retired from dancing. She helped us hire the girls now. She vetted them and was doing a fucking fantastic job too. If she didn’t get so damn jealous every time she walked in on me fucking one of the girls, then I might put her in my bed full-time. Just last week, she had come into the office at Toxic Throttle—our biggest and most popular strip club in Miami—to find Katnis bent over the desk while I took her from behind. Amethyst almost clawed out Katnis’s eyes, and I had to threaten to fire her ass to get her to back off Katnis. Hell, she’d hired the hot little redhead.
Long, pointy fingernails ran over my shoulder as Amethyst pressed as close to me as possible.
I glanced up at her. “Get me another,” I told her, handing her the empty bottle in my hand.
She took it, and I winked at her to sweeten the demand before she turned to do my bidding. I knew she wanted to be my old lady. She’d wanted it for years, but I wasn’t the type who had been built for that. I wouldn’t have a marriage like what Micah, Liam, Jars, and Brick all had with their old ladies. If I even attempted it, I’d have the shit show that Anson had after making Starlit—aka Mandy, one of the strippers at River Styx another of our clubs—his old lady. He was still fucking the club whores, and she kept catching him. It had been the same with Grinder when his old lady was alive. Violence and drama.
“Reckon Pepper is ever gonna give me a chance?” Country, one of the younger members of the MC, asked as he sat down beside me with a tall glass of whatever beer was on tap.
I smirked. “Nope.”
“Damn.”
“Yep.” I stretched and leaned back in my chair, glancing around for a waitress.
The hot little brunette with her ass cheeks hanging out of her cutoff shorts would be nice. I needed a cheeseburger and a better look at her up close. She was new—or new to me. I hadn’t been here in almost a month. Most of my time had been in Ocala, working at Devil’s.
Pepper was over at a booth behind us, talking to someone. I waited for her to finish so I could get her attention and order my cheeseburger through her. She’d get it out here faster.
“Here ya go, baby,” Amethyst purred close to my ear as she pressed her tits against the side of my head while bending down to hand me my beer.
I started to tell her to go order me the burger when Pepper stepped away from the table, and my eyes drifted over to the woman in the booth.
The band began playing a Guns N’ Roses song while the women with us started to cheer, yet it was as if the sound went from loud to being sucked out of the room. Leaving me sitting there in complete silence. I stared. This wasn’t the first time I’d thought I saw her or imagined what she looked like now, but it was the first fucking time the eyes were the perfect shade of cornflower blue, and the Marilyn Monroe beauty mark was there on her creamy, flawless skin.
Memories that I had shut away began to pound me like unforgiving ocean waves even though I tried like hell to hold them back. Then her gaze drifted from the band onstage to connect with mine. She stilled, then stiffened. It was her.
The fucking quickening of my heart didn’t lie. It had only ever done that shit once. For one girl.
Twenty-One Years Ago
My steps slowed as I approached the front porch of my mom’s house. The sun was going down, casting a shadow over it, and I’d not noticed the porch was occupied until I almost reached the steps. Salem Gray was sitting on the swing. The sight of her did shit to me that I wasn’t familiar with, and it only seemed to get worse every time I saw her.
I was nineteen, and she was fifteen years old. My mother had made that very fucking clear the night I met her. She followed me out to my truck and let me know that Salem was living with her due to an abusive situation at home. Salem was her most promising art student in all her twenty years of teaching. Mom had big plans for Salem. She’d said that Salem was broken, but she was going to help fix the girl and I was going to ignore the bashful smiles she flashed at me.
Well, Momma, it’s fucking hard to do. Your little brilliant artist is stunning, and I’m a man.
I preferred to only see Salem with Mom present. That way, Salem wouldn’t bat her long lashes and pull that plump bottom lip between her teeth as she flashed her cornflower-blue eyes at me. Yeah, that shit was on purpose. She knew she was a fucking stunner, and it worked.
I would just nod, say hello, and keep walking. Not stop to encourage conversation.
The last time, she’d asked about the tattoo on my back that continued to cover my right arm. When I told her it was a phoenix rising from its ashes, she asked to see it. I pulled up my shirt and took out my right arm so she could see the full piece. She asked what the ashes represented, what I’d risen from, and I explained that it wasn’t me. It was my mom. Before I could lower my shirt back, her fingertips brushed over my skin, sending electric bolts right down to my fucking cock. I had told myself no more letting her get me alone.
She would turn sixteen in a month, and she’d mentioned needing someone to let her practice driving outside of driver’s ed at school. My mom could do that. She had done it with me. But when I told her exactly that, the crestfallen expression on her face was painful. My chest tightened uncomfortably, and I’d been real damn close to offering to help right that fucking minute.
She was dangerous.
Nod, say hello, then get the fuck inside.
When I stepped onto the porch, it only took one glance in her direction for my cock to twitch.
Jesus, Mom, could you not make her wear more clothing?
I realized it was September in Florida, which meant it was hot as fuck, but still. The shorts were tiny, and there was no bra under that crop top she was wearing. Her smile spread across her face, and those eyes of hers lit up, as if seeing me had made her fucking day.
Inside, Rome. Get the hell inside the house.
“Hey.” One word, but even her voice was sexy. It had a thick Southern drawl to it, which wasn’t common in this part of Florida.
I nodded my head once. “Hey,” I replied, then opened the screen door to get my ass away from her.
As I walked inside the door, the scent of home and Momma’s cooking met me. I relaxed some, but not entirely.
“Smells good!” I called out, making my way toward the kitchen.
I might have moved out, but I came for dinner at least four nights a week. I’d much rather have Momma’s cooking than pay for food that wasn’t nearly as good. Plus, I could check on her this way.
“Because it is!” she called back to me, and I grinned.
I had very few memories of my father living here with us. He’d not tried to have a relationship with me once he moved out to start his new family and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to search him out.
It was something I struggled with as a kid until, one day at a baseball game, another boy on my team was getting yelled at by his father for every mistake. The kid looked pale and beaten down. Meanwhile, my momma was in the stands, cheering for me so damn loudly that, at nine years old, I realized I didn’t need a dad. I had her, and she was better than a dad.
When I lost a game, we would go out to get ice cream. When my best friend moved away, she made brownies and popped a big bowl of popcorn for dinner. Then we stayed up late, watching movies.
There wasn’t a time in my life when I’d felt like she wasn’t there for me or that I was missing out by not having a father. I had my mom. The strongest person I knew.
Mom’s blonde hair, which she kept cut in a bob, was pulled back with a headband, and a pink-and-white checked apron covered her T-shirt and denim shorts as she worked at the stove. “Please Forgive Me” by Bryan Adams played on the Bluetooth speaker I’d bought her for Christmas last year, and she was singing along to it.
I squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “Please tell me that is peach cobbler I smell.”
She tilted her head back to look up at me. “Yep, and I got ribs on the grill out back. Go check on them and take that sheet pan with you. They’re probably close to ready. Might need five more minutes or so. The corn on the cob can all come off now, so grab the tongs too.”
Damn, I was glad I had come home to eat tonight. She had gone all out.
“Did you know I was coming?” I asked, looking at the three plates on the table and the pitcher of her homemade lemonade.
“When do you ever tell me you’re coming?” she asked. “There is plenty though. I always make enough for you.”
Frowning, I looked from the table back to her. “You set the table for three.”
She nodded her head, then opened the oven to pull out what looked like potato skins, smothered in cheese and bacon. I loved those things. She always made them for me on special occasions.
“Salem has a friend coming,” Mom said, then shot me a grin. “I think she’s got a crush on him. God knows the boy can’t keep his eyes off her at school. Good kid,” she said, then placed the pan of potato skins on the hot pad. “Go check the ribs and corn,” she urged.
Snatching up the sheet pan and tongs she had lying out, I left the kitchen.
Mom had done all this for some guy that Salem had coming over? Did she think she needed to impress him for Salem’s sake? Because Salem had that handled with the lack of clothing she was wearing.
I glanced at the mirror that hung on the wall as I passed it, and the scowl on my face matched my mood. Shouldn’t Mom be more worried about making Salem—oh, I don’t know—put on a goddamn bra and some shorts that you couldn’t see the outline of her pussy in?
The back door slammed behind me.
Putting the pan down with more force than necessary, I went over to open the grill. Spare ribs, coated with her special seasoning, and foil-covered cobs of corn filled the rack. I took the tongs and began getting the corn out, pissed that Mom had gone to all this trouble for some fucking boy.
“Do you need any help?”
I tensed and inhaled sharply at the sound of Salem’s voice. Not looking up at her, I continued to keep my sole attention on my task.
“I got it,” I replied, hearing the edge in my voice.
“I can carry the corn inside for you if you need to wait longer on the ribs,” she offered.
Getting out the last of the corn, I closed the lid so the ribs had a few more minutes. “I said, I got it.” That was a little too harsh.
My eyes darted to her, and I wished they hadn’t. Dammit, she looked like she might cry.
Just go away, Salem. Don’t keep poking the bear.
“Okay, I just, uh…okay,” she stammered and turned to walk back toward the house.
Fuck. I clenched my teeth in hopes that I’d keep my mouth shut and let her walk away, but the moment her hand touched the screen door latch, I caved.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” The words came out rushed.
Needing no other encouragement, Salem spun around, and those eyes—which I swore to God were going to be the death of me—were glistening with unshed tears. A knot in my chest twisted, and I took a deep breath.
“Did I do something…” She trailed off and pulled that lip between her teeth again.
Yeah. You make my dick hard, and you’re too fucking young.
“No. Just having a bad day.”
Her expression softened into one of concern. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you wanted to come see your mom and not have to deal with this.” She scrunched her nose. “I didn’t ask her to do all this.”
I shrugged. “That’s just how Mom is.”
We stood there, staring at each other a tad too long as the silence began to stretch. I doubted anyone could ever get tired of looking at that face.
Jesus, talk about a fucking Lolita.
“I’ll go see if I can help Vanna inside,” she said, then gave me the sweetest smile.
For a second, I forgot why I had been pissed. Then my eyes dropped to her perky tits and the hard nipples poking against the fabric of her sorry excuse for a top, and I remembered. My hand tightened on the tongs I was still holding.
“Do you own a bra?” It almost sounded like a snarl.
Those incredible blue eyes widened, and she hesitated, then nodded. She looked nervous. But even that couldn’t stop me. I knew I couldn’t handle some dick checking out her tits.
“Put it on. I can see your nipples from here,” I told her, realizing I sounded possessive. Not wanting her to get the wrong idea, I added, “Out of respect for my mom. Whoever this kid is, he doesn’t need to be looking at your tits at the dinner table, and with you dressed like that, he won’t be able to look anywhere else.”
Her body stiffened, and she nodded. Then, without saying a word, she hurried inside. Either to get away from me, to cry because I was an asshole, or to change. I hoped like fuck it was the latter.