Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Journey
“Pistol Pete, come in,” Bane growls into the CB radio.
“Think that old fucker will ever retire?” I laugh, downshifting before grabbing the wheel with both hands to turn the big rig towards Anarchy Enterprise.
One more block and then we can get the hell out of this motherfucker.
Thirty-six hours in this sardine can with Bane is thirty-five and a half hours too long.
Bane snorts. “Not likely.”
“Yo,” crackles through the radio, deep and gravely.
My lips twitch at the same time Bane snorts. Pistol Pete is a relic. Old timer’s been around since the beginning. Man never misses a day of work or a club meeting. He lives for the club.
Bane lifts the mic. “We’re coming in hot, old buddy. Open up.”
Pistol Pete mans the gate at Anarchy Enterprise.
“Liar.” I glance over and pop a brow.
We’re not coming in hot. In fact, we didn’t haul shit back from Saint Louis. The second we dropped the load of Red Bliss at the Bastard Saints clubhouse, we turned around and deadheaded back.
Not a profitable move at all.
Usually, we’d pick up a load of steel and drop it off at TK Steel in Kings Haven.
However, Bane’s turned into a pussy whipped bitch since he kidnapped his ol’ lady again.
Yes, again. As in twice.
She left, and he fucked around and found out. It was a whole thing, but they worked it all out. But that’s their story to tell.
“Come on home, boys. The waters are clear.”
Bane and I both let out a sigh of relief. That’s code for there aren’t any undercover agents sniffing around.
Pistol Pete waves us through the gate, and I pull the rig into the lot, aiming for the back where we always park.
“Home sweet fucking home.” I sigh.
“No doubt.”
Bane grabs the ratty old Jansport from behind his seat and starts shoving all the shit he bought for Frankie at the truckstop inside.
I told ya’. The motherfucker’s pussy whipped.
Shaking my head, I grab my logbook off the dash and shove open the door.
The Florida heat hits me like a wall the second I step out onto the running board and drop down to the pavement.
After freezing my balls off in Saint Louis and then spending the last twelve hours breathing recycled air, the salty humid breeze feels pretty fucking good.
“How’d the run go?”
My eyes move to the open bay doors on the far end of the garage. I can hear the impact wrench whirring from inside and Lobo materializes a second later, wiping his hands on a shop rag.“Long,” I answer, pulling off my hat and dragging a hand through my hair before settling it back on my head.
He stuffs the rag in his back pocket, eyes moving between me and Bane as he hops down from the passenger side of the truck.
“Too long,” Bane says.
Lobo’s laughing eyes cut to me. “He used to love hitting the road.”
“Now he’s stuck up Frankie’s ass.” I say, tossing him the keys to the Peterbilt.
Lobo catches them one-handed and grins.
“And it’s a fine ass.” Bane smirks before flicking two fingers at me in a lazy salute. “I’m out, bro.”
I hold up the logs. “I’m gonna run these inside, and then I’m right behind you.”
Without another word, he jogs off toward his bike on the other side of the lot.
“What do you want me to do about her?” Lobo asks, nodding at the rig still running.
“Have one of the boys bring her into the garage. She’s due for an oil change.”
“You got it.”
Patting Lobo on the back, I head for the office.
“There you are,” Amy says with a smile the second I push through the back door.
She’s got that look on her face. The one that tells me she’s been watching the clock since I left.
Fuck. That’s never a good sign.
I flash her a smile anyway because I’m not a complete asshole. “Here I am, darlin’.”
She bites her lip, and my dick twitches. He knows she’s a sure thing. Amy’s been in my rotation for a few months now.
I thought she knew the score. We fuck. That’s it. I’m not her man. But right now, with the way she’s looking at me, it’s clear as day that she’s caught feelings.
I can see the hearts practically floating out of her eyes like one of them fucking cartoons Stella used to watch.
Fuck me. I drag a hand over the scruff on my jaw. I’m gonna have to end this. It’s not fair to keep this shit going when I know exactly how it ends. She’ll start wanting shit that I’m never going to give her.
“I missed you, baby” she purrs.
I grunt.
I didn’t miss her.
I don’t miss people. That’s not how I’m built. I come, I go. I come back. There’s no missing in between.
She leans forward and my eyes fall to her cleavage.
I mean… One more time won’t hurt.
“C’mon,” I grunt, pushing off the reception desk and heading toward the back hallway.
Her heels click against the tile behind me, and I shove open the men’s bathroom door with my palm. She slips in behind me and I flip the lock.
I don’t waste any time. She knows what this is.
Spinning her around by the shoulders so she’s facing the door, I press into her back.
“Hands on the door,” I tell her, my voice rough from thirty-six hours of no sleep.
She does what she’s told and flattens her palms against the metal door.
“Good girl.”
Reaching around, I grab the hem of her skirt and hike it up around her hips. “You ready for me?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
Gungho to bust a nut, I flick open the button on my jeans and whip out my dick.
Condom, dumbass.
Jesus. I scrub a hand over my face. I need some fucking sleep. I’m not usually this fucking careless.
Digging my wallet out of my back pocket, I pull out a foil packet and roll it on.
The last thing I need is some bitch coming up pregnant. Hell no. Fuck that noise. No glove, no love.
Amy wiggles her ass.
Oh. Right.
Reaching between her legs, I slide her panties to the side and slam inside her.
She gasps.
“You wanted it, baby. Now you got it.”
I don’t wait for her to catch her breath. That’s not what this is, there’s no sweet words or tender caress. This is a quick fuck before I go to the clubhouse and sleep for twelve hours. It’s me emptying my balls and her getting to say she got dicked by a King.
“Harder,” she pants, her forehead dropping to the door. “Journey—”
I grip her hips and give her what she’s begging for.
Her knees start to buckle and I wrap my arm around her waist, holding her up.
“Yes!” she screams.
Goddamn it.
I reach up and cover her mouth with one hand because the last thing I need is the whole garage knowing my business.
I thrust harder and faster until finally her pussy flutters around me and she comes with a muffled cry against my palm.
Thank fuck.
I feel that familiar tingle climbing up from the base of my spine and I thrust harder, faster, chasing it until it crashes through me and I come with a grunt, my legs shaking and my breathing ragged.
Goddamn.
Breathing hard, I drop my head to her shoulder.
“Maybe next time we could actually do this in a bed.”
Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.
Pulling out, I yank off the condom and toss it in the trash.
I turn to the sink and turn on the faucet.
In the mirror, I watch her smooth her black skirt back down and run her fingers through her hair. She’s smiling at me like she thinks this somehow means more than it does.
Yep. Time to cut her loose.
I soap up my hands and wash them, watching her bite her lip.
“Thanks,” I say, reaching for a paper towel.
The smile dies.
“Thanks?” she repeats.
“Yeah.” I shrug, readjusting my hat on my head. “Thanks.”
The expression on her face shifts from wounded to pissed off in about half a second.
I pop a brow. Here we go.
She plants her hands on her hips and her eyes narrow to slits. “You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?”
I turn around and match her pissed off stare. “I’m the asshole?” I toss the paper towel in the trash. “I didn’t make you any promises, babe. I’m not your man. Never said I was.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I haven’t lied to you once.”
Her eyes go glassy.
Well shit. I hate when bitches cry. It’s my fucking kryptonite, but I also can’t let this go on any longer.
Shaking her head, she unlocks the door and storms out.
“Fuck.” I drag a hand over my face and let out a slow breath. This is why I don’t do relationships. They’re fucking messy.
At least it’s done.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, seeing Stella’s name on the screen.
The little shit has been dodging my calls since I left on Wednesday. “It’s about damn time you called me back.”
“Journey.” My jaw locks at the wobble in her voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need you to come to June’s apartment. Someone broke in.” She sniffles.
My brows go up. Not sure how she thinks that’s my problem.
“They trashed the whole place.”
“Stella,” I groan and close my eyes. “Have your friend call OPD. That’s their job—”
“Please, Johnny,” her voice cracks. “If it wasn’t for June, I would be a missing person on a milk carton right now. Do you understand me? She saved me.”
“Oh for fucks sake,” I growl. She’s not wrong, and I know it.
“Please, Johnny. For me.” I hear her breath hitch, and I know she’s trying not to cry. My sister is tough. She doesn’t cry easy.
“Stella—” I scrub a hand over my face. God damn it. “Fine. I’m on my way.”
Ending the call, I pocket my phone and head for the door.
“Asshole,” Amy growls, shooting me a venomous glare as I pass the reception desk.
I fight back a grin, because I kind of deserve that.
I could have maybe said something besides thanks, but I like to approach these kinds of situations like pulling off a bandaid.
You do it fast and it only hurts for a minute.
Still, she should have known better than to set her heart on me.
I told her from the jump, this wasn’t going anywhere.
Without sparing her a glance, I walk right out the door to my bike that’s been baking in the sun all day, and throw my leg over the seat.
“Shit,” I hiss, the heat from the hot leather scorching my ass.
“Are you leaving?” Lobo shouts from the open bay door.
“Yeah,” I shout back, pulling the black Oakleys off the bill of my hat. “Do me a favor, will ya? Send Gator and Bash a text to meet me at King Crow Ink.”
Lobo gives me a thumbs up and disappears back into the garage.
I readjust my hat, crank the motor, and pull out of the lot.
Pistol Pete’s already got the gate open by the time I reach it, and I flick out two fingers as I roll by.
So much for a hot meal and a cold beer.