Chapter 3Evan
Chapter Three
EVAN
I bring my car to a stop just outside a huge metal gate that has to be at least 20 feet tall. What in the fuck is this place? And how did I not know this existed next door to me?
My stomach is past the point of rolling. It’s full-on punching me for being a naive dumbass. Who doesn’t ask questions about what they’re getting into? “If Zeke fucks me, I swear I will cut his dick off,” I mumble under my breath as the gate slowly opens.
“What the fuck…” I mutter as I whip around. How do they even know I’m here?
I slowly drive through the gate and down the concrete drive until a giant warehouse-looking building comes into view. I cut the engine on my Dark Horse Ford Mustang and climb out. Spotting the entrance, I pause just as I’m about to grab the door handle. Do I knock? Or is this like a business, and I just enter? I should have paid more attention when I watched Sons of Anarchy, but Tig was just too hot to not have my undivided attention.
I turn the knob, deciding on just going in.
It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but as they do, I take in the giant living area. Living area? Is that what you would call a room with a stripper pole in the center, a bar up against the wall, and worn leather couches with a few tables and chairs randomly spread throughout? My nose turns up as I hear the stickiness of the floor as I walk further in. Honestly, this place looks more like a frat house.
“Hello?” I call out as I make my way over to the bar and lean against the rail as if I’m waiting for someone to pop up. Based on the floors, it shouldn’t shock me that the mirrors on the back wall are dirty. Old stickers from various places cover it. I’d like to say I can see my reflection, but it’s more of a half-assed smudgy version of myself.
I jump as a door slams shut behind me, making me whip around to see who has finally decided to acknowledge my presence, only to come face-to-face with a man who can only be described as sex-on-a-stick. He’s tall. Has to be at least 6’5, considering I’m 5’7, and he looks like he would swallow me up. I take my time as I scan him head to toe. The salt and pepper hair lets me know that he’s older. Maybe mid-40s? His fitted tee contours to his body in all the right places. He’s muscular but more in the dad bod sense. The fitted boot-cut jeans are hugging some seriously ripped thighs, though. Damn, the man is fine. If I was asked to build my dream guy physically, this man in front of me would be it.
I sharply inhale at the realization as my eyes shoot up to his face, seeing his eyebrows raised. Fuck. He just watched me check him out. The ground can swallow me up anytime now. I’m nervous as hell and fiddling with the ends of my hair like I’m fucking twelve-years-old. And now he’s just staring at me like I’m the biggest idiot. Fuck me. Men don’t usually intimidate me, but his stare is almost enough for me to tell Zeke to forget it. Almost.
“Uh…. hi. I’m here for Zeke? He called me and said to meet him.” Someone needed to start off the conversation since it was clear he wasn’t going to.
“Zeke?” The seriously intimidating man grunts out as he studies me. His eyes narrow as they slowly run up and down my body before he turns around and walks right back through the door he came from, slamming it shut behind him without another word.
My jaw drops as the door slams because what in the hell was that? Was I just dismissed? It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone this fucking rude.
And where in the hell is Zeke?