Chapter 5
Bull
Christ.
With everything I’ve got rolling right now, I don’t have time to let this girl twist me up. And that’s exactly what she’s done.
Hopefully, she’ll never realize that I’m using her as an alibi tonight.
“You’re sure?” Rage asks me when I change up our plans.
“Yeah, I know you’re itching to check in on Sheriff Mills. You handle that and I’ll do the hand-off to Thunder,” I tell him, leaving out the part where I’m bringing Margo along. “Just be sure to—”
“Fuck off,” he laughs, whipping a motorcycle stress-ball at my head. “Like I don’t know to establish an alibi.”
“Watch that ego, man. It’ll trip your ass up.” I easily swat away the object. “Serious though, check in every thirty-six hours.”
“Will do. I’m going to catch some sleep before hitting the road.” He’s halfway out of the office door before turning back with a frown. “What’s your alibi for heading down to RC?”
“Gonna finally have dinner at Bokujo,” I tell him, looking down at some bills that need paying.
“Lucky bastard. Margo’s fucking fine,” he responds, closing the door before I can say, or throw, anything.
Bronco set out earlier today with the two prospects, and while Edge reached out to Carson, the kid gave some weak assed excuse about being stranded in Lead for the day. Doesn’t really matter, he’s done. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Once Frost gets the new burner from the prospects, he’ll get ahold of me but hopefully our half-assed plan comes to fruition and our package will be back here.
It’s been years since making a call like this bothered me, what little compassion I once had for women who came to be in this kind of predicament used to make me hesitate.
Until one of them shot me about a decade ago. If I had let that woman live, she’d have found a way to fuck up our operation—much like Alli would. That bitch knew the score from the moment she walked into the clubhouse, she chose her path.
*
When I pull up to Margo’s, Glenn’s youngest grandson is outside chopping wood. As big of a pain in my ass as he and his brother are, I can’t deny they’re hard workers.
“Hiya, Bull,” he waves the axe over his head in greeting.
I nod in reply, continuing on to the front porch when Margo comes barreling out.
“Come on, let’s go,” she says, slipping off the bottom step and into my arms, her arms grabbing mine as her feet find purchase again.
“Is your grandpa going to be calling the cops later?” I ask her.
“No, I left a note.”
“Hey,” I call out to the sole witness to Margo leaving with me willingly. “Throw some salt on the steps. We can’t have George falling, now, can we?”
“Yes, sir,” he immediately agrees, slamming the axe into the stump and running to do my bidding.
Fuck. Next thing, he’s going to want to be a prospect.
The drive goes pretty much as I expect. Margo immediately starts asking questions about the towns we drive past, trying to control the conversation.
Anything to avoid answering my earlier queries.
I’m hoping the sake will take the edge off. I won’t be drinking much tonight, nor getting laid. But with a little luck, it’ll loosen her up enough to consider being honest with me.
Shortly after we’re seated, I excuse myself but instead of hitting the head, I walk back out to the parking lot, turning at the sound of a low whistle.
Thunder’s about ten feet from me, smoking a cigarette and seemingly oblivious to the cold. Year round, the man wears short sleeves under his cut.
“I parked next to you. That chick you’re with is fine,” he says, drawing out the last word as he holds out the keys to the SUV he came in, one that’s identical to mine.
Except that he doesn’t have lye in the back of his.
“How’d the prospects do?”
“Gaven didn’t hesitate, but Dean was rattled,” he tells me, and I nod my head in thought.
I’d have been happier if it rattled both of them. Killing a woman is no small thing.
“And the other girls?”
“Frost held them at the other cabin, got them to the bus station and they’re none the wiser. He put the fear of God into them, of course,” he tells me but we share a long look. Like me, I can tell he knows this’ll come back to us; maybe tomorrow, maybe down the line.
Authorizing the murder of one woman was enough, not even I could stomach making it four.
“Rage is heading to Kent County. He thinks there’s trouble brewing and wants to get ahead of it.”
“That kid’s got a soft heart. Always has,” Thunder chuckles, shaking his head. He should know, Rage is his little brother. “You’d better get back, she’ll think you’re taking a dump.”
“See you soon, brother,” I say, turning to head back inside.
*
Once Margo got over her nervous chatter, she was a lot of fun during dinner, but it was only when we were leaving that she sealed the deal with me.
Pausing just outside the door, she squints, looking momentarily confused at seeing a red pickup truck in the space I had used. When her eyes find the SUV I’ll be driving us home in, she looks up at me in question but doesn’t say a word.
I reach the SUV in time to open the door for her and don’t miss her taking a whiff before getting in. She doesn’t miss much.
“Want to come back to the clubhouse?” I ask her, not wanting the night to end yet.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she replies after studying my face.
“I’ve had worse,” I say, reaching my hand out to take hers, surprised to feel some calluses on her palm. Certain that she’s as tired of me asking her questions as I am of asking them, we ride for a time in silence.
And I’m surprised at how comfortable that makes me feel.
“Look, I was seeing someone,” she starts out of nowhere, letting out a sigh before turning her head to look out of the window.
“Back home. He was really kind of my first boyfriend, and I thought it was sweet, how interested in me he was. David went all in on learning everything I liked and didn’t like.
Before I knew it, he went from attentive to controlling.
I’ve never had many friends but would hang out with co-workers sometimes. At least, before we started dating.”
Her voice cuts off and while I’m searching for the best way to get the asshole’s last name, she whispers something. “Come again?”
“Then he broke my arm.” Her voice is barely audible, and I release her hand to hit the hazards before pulling off to park on the side of the road.
She lets out a gasp but doesn’t have time to say anything as I release her seatbelt and pull her onto my lap.
“You’re safe now. You’ll always be safe with me,” I murmur into the top of her head, as I wrap my arms around her body.
When she starts to shake, I hold on tighter, until I hear a giggle.
By the time that giggle has turned into a full-fledged laugh, I’m frowning down at her. There are unshed tears clinging to her bottom lids, but she’s belly-laughing at the pledge I made her.
My temper rises at the thought of the first promise I ever made any woman being thrown back into my face and I flex my arm when I feel her hand squeeze my bicep—seconds away from shrugging off her touch.
“Says the man who was disposing of a body the first time I met him,” she says, her laughter tapering off. “I slept under my bed for weeks, in case you or your dad decided to come kill me.”
Her words soothe my pride, and I can’t help but smile, silently acknowledging her point. “Under your bed? Isn’t that where the boogeyman lives?”
“He wasn’t as real as you,” she replies, but I refuse to feel bad over what happened all those years ago. My dad wouldn’t have killed a child, though it’s not to say someone close to her wouldn’t have been hurt. “Besides, I can protect myself.”
“Yeah, by hanging out with senior citizens at the VFW?”
She looks downward, hiding her eyes from me again and bites her bottom lip.
“I’m doing alright,” she answers with a shrug.
Leaning down, I pause a breath away from her lips. “That isn’t good enough. Not for you.”
Figuring she would have pushed me away if she objected to my presence, I’m just about kiss her when Margo closes the slight distance between us.
Her supple lips press firmly against mine, and I hold still, letting her take control.
At least until the second she nibbles on my bottom lip, that’s when I know I’m done.
The only thought going through my head when I thrust my tongue into her mouth, swirling it around hers, is how soon I can get a property cut on her. There’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind, telling me to slow my ass down, that there’s too much I don’t know about her.
It’s just that my cock and my heart are beating in unison, outweighing the logical voice.
Sliding my hand up from her hip, I cup her breast and lightly massage it; this is something I started doing in high school, trying to figure out how much padding the chick’s bra has versus her own and I grin, pleased with the knowledge that her breasts are very full and all natural.
That’s when there’s a knock at my window. Opening my eyes, I notice the flashing lights behind me before looking to my left and rolling down my window.
“Evening, Bull,” one of the local deputies says, acknowledging that he knows who I am as he studiously keeps his eyes on me and not the woman in my arms. “We had a report of a disabled vehicle. Is everything alright?”
“What’s your name?”
“Vargas,” he replies, finally pulling his eyes from me when Margo moves back into her seat.
“That’s right. Sorry for the trouble, we just needed to get something sorted out,” I tell him, and his lips tighten as he studies Margo.
“Is everything sorted out, Miss?” he asks, emphasizing the last word as he notices that she’s a bit younger than both of us.
“Yes, sir. Thank you for checking on me.” Her sincerity rings through, and I wonder how the cops down in Oklahoma dealt with her ex.
“May I see your ID?” he asks her, grating on my patience.
“Oh, y’know, I just have a paper one. I’m new to the area,” she says, reaching into her pocket for her phone and opening the back flap attached to the case.
“Crap. I don’t have it in here. Could you look it up in your system?
My name is Margo Tucker and I work for the town of Clear Creek.
They did a full check on me during the hiring process, so it should be easy for you to find me. ”
“Yeah? What do you do for them?”
“I drive the snowplow, it’s been a busy few weeks, I’ll tell ya,” she replies, leaning into her drawl.
“The snowplow?” Honestly, from the look on his face and how his jaw dropped open, I’m surprised he even got those words out.
“Count yourself lucky you live down here,” I mock whisper to him. “She’s taken out most of the mailboxes around town.”
“Hey!” she exclaims, smacking my arm. “Your driveway is on a curve, it’s really tricky.”
Vargas’ demeaner has done a one-eighty and instead of his expression of concern for her, I can see I have him firmly in my court now as he tries not to laugh at us. “I’ll just wait for you to get moving then.”
We’re mostly quiet as I drive the next thirty minutes it takes to get to the clubhouse, but instead of heading in the front door, I lead her up the private stairs that go to the back entrance of my room here.
“It’s cozy,” she says, taking in the space after I’ve turned on the light.
I’m in no mood for small talk, but when I see her crossing directly to one of my mother’s paintings, I give her a moment to study it.
“Is that you?”
She’s pointing at a little boy with curly brown hair that nearly reaches his shoulders on a beach I’ve never been to. He’s about to skip a stone as his mother—my mother—watches him and the sunset from a few feet away.
I nod, not trusting my voice past the knot that has formed in my throat.
“It’s the way you stand, it’s just the same,” she says, awe filling her expression as she leans closer to the oil painting. “Where were you?”
I reach for her hand, pulling her into my arms and pressing my lips against hers before scooping her up by her ass and carrying her to bed.
“I’ve never been there,” I say before peeling off my cut then my flannel shirt.
Sadness flashes in Margo’s eyes as she takes another glance at the painting before pulling her own shirt off and looks up at me. With a blink of her large blue eyes, she’s on the same page as me and not worrying about the painting.
Tracing a finger along the top edge of her bra cup, I mirror the touch with my tongue on the opposite side, pulling both sides down to expose her nipples.
“Tomorrow, we’re going shopping for lingerie,” I murmur, drawing a shocked gasp from her as she suddenly clasps her hands over her boobs.
“What’s wrong with my bra?”
“It might as well be a sports bra,” I chuckle, knocking her hands out of the way with my chin. “You’ve got fantastic tits, so I’m going to dress them up a little.”
The noise she makes doesn’t exactly sound like an agreement, but her hands slide back up my arms before reaching further along to explore my sides and back.
A shiver rolls through my body when one brushes close to my underarm and from the look in her eyes, she’s filing that information away for the future.
“Unsnap my jeans,” I demand, my voice becoming ragged with need.
As soon as I see Margo bite her bottom lip again, I’m done going slow.
How can such a simple motion be so fucking hot?
Then, watching her hand slowly reach down to follow my command, it occurs to me that she’s probably the least experienced woman I’ve ever fucked and maybe the situation calls for some gentleness.
The problem being, I’m not a gentle man.