Chapter 22
KINGSTON “FROST”
Like always, Rebel has to argue with me. My body crowds hers, and my face is an inch away. Her head falls back to stare right back at me. She’s ballsy to stand up to me, yet is stupid to do so in front of everyone. That’s something I don’t fucking allow.
Through gritted teeth, I repeat, “You. Stay. With. Me.”
“No!”
I erupt. “All you ever do is argue. I fucking said you’re staying with me and that’s final.” My face heats up and I punch the air. “I’m fucking tired of your mouth you ungrateful bitch!”
Stevie pushes forward into me. “This ungrateful bitch didn’t ask to be part of this shit.
I didn’t ask for you to stalk me. To be part of this fucking club, which I’m not.
My life has been nothing but shit since you came into it.
” She jabs her finger into my chest. “I can’t get a job.
Or afford a place to live.” On her tippy toes, she screams in my face.
“You’ve ruined my life. I fucking hate you! ”
Her fury catches me off-guard and I step back because it jars me.
It’s not the first time she’s said she hates me, but that was before I invested any time in her.
Before I fucked her. Plus, I recognize the hate in her behavior and words.
My old man and whore of a mother called me names and let me know every day how much they hated me.
A lump catches in my throat. Stevie just cracked open my soul, letting some of the blackness seep out.
She’s opening up old wounds and creating new ones.
Lynette comes over, wraps an arm around Stevie to guide her toward the other room as I scrub my face to ward off the emotions, and storm out of the bar.
I hop in my truck, screeching out of the parking lot down the winding road to clear my head.
I do what I want, except I’m not dumb to the point of not recognizing what I do wrong.
I ain’t denying making Rebel’s life difficult.
I’ve stalked her. Done a lot of shit to her.
When I want something I take it. As a kid, everything was taken from me, so why shouldn’t I return the favor.
Fucking Smokey.
Ever since he showed me her picture, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her. Then I meet her in person, and it was all new. A new shiny thing. Stevie’s presence, her stubbornness and beauty is different from any woman in my life. She came at a time when women bored me.
Stevie’s a different flavor. A different smell.
It pisses me off for wanting her so bad, causing me to feel.
I hate feeling anything other than anger, which is how I’ve approached Stevie.
Because she’s made me constantly crave her.
She’s stealing my manhood. I’m not smart or rich.
I’m not a gentleman. What I am is a god damn tattooed asshole biker.
This is what’s gotten me through life. Who I am is what I’ve been able to count on.
But Stevie makes me soft. And since I’ve fucked her, she’s been the one constant drifting through my mind. Her creamy skin. Small tits that fit perfectly in my hand, and her pink nipples, reddening from my hands and mouth. My cock disappearing and settling into her pussy.
I’ve been so caught up on remembering what happened between Stevie and I that I didn’t realize I’ve driven into the Graves Disciples territory. They’re usually patrolling the edges of their area, drinking and doing drugs more so than patrolling.
I pull into a gas station. Inside the mini-store, the shifty-eyed attendant watches my every move. My cut proves I don’t belong here. I pick up a six-pack of beer, gum, and toss a twenty on the counter, not waiting for my change.
Instead of returning home, I drive into their territory.
Heads turn in my direction, following me down the road.
I gather what I can. There is no one on the main road.
It isn’t until I turn off that I find a guy or two smoking on the side of the road.
Enzo’s club is down the street, so I head there.
It’s late and I only find a couple of bikes parked in front.
I curve right, nearing a cul-de-sac, and come across a huge house.
This is the party place. Bikes line the sidewalks and the entire half circle.
With my phone, I snap a couple of pictures of the address and house, and turn to head back home.
My guess is the house belongs to Snake the Prez of the Grave Disciples. He lives like a king while his club brothers either sleep in the club or rent apartments. The money from his seedy businesses mostly goes to him and his blow habit.
Once I’m in my house, I put the beer in the refrigerator, and haul my ass upstairs for a shower. When I get out, I hear someone walking up the stairs. I crack the door to find Stevie, coming up the stairs, and slamming her door closed.
Smokey sent me some texts a while ago.
Smokey
Where’d you go?
Lynette talked to Stevie. She’ll be at your place later.
At least someone talked some fucking sense into her. I respond.
Me
I’m home and she’s here.
Smokey
Want company?
Me
No.
I settle my ass on the couch with a beer. I’m done with this fucking day.