Chapter 8
8
A few nights ago, I entered the office to get change for the register and Smoke was talking on his phone about a crawl space under the building along with a blueprint spread over his desk. When he realized I was in the room he quickly ended the call and shoved the papers in the desk drawer, then he exchanged the hundreds for smaller bills and I returned to the bar.
The next night I sat at the same desk doing my usual entries into the computer. Normally, Blood was in the office grilling me with his cold, brown eyes, making it impossible to do any spying, but tonight The Tropics was hosting two bachelor parties, and large groups of college kids were already flooding the club looking to get wild during spring break.
The extra crowd meant even Blood was on the floor leaving me alone and ready to snoop. I opened the top drawer where I saw Smoke shove the papers the other night, but nothing, so I checked the first of the three deeper drawers at the side of the desk. Again, nothing, so I opened all of them again, then bent over to check the undersides of the drawers .
“Looking for something?” The deep rasp made me jump hitting my head on the corner of the top drawer.
I yelped and rubbed at what would probably be a bump. I righted myself and stared into Smoke’s accusing glare. I quickly slammed the drawers shut and drew in a breath.
“So?” His one word question hung in the air as my heart thumped harder.
“Um, I was looking for a pen.” Weak reply, but I was so sure I would be alone I slipped up on the backup story.
Smoke reached down, retrieved a pen from the top of the desk and held it up.
“Huh, thanks for finding it.” I stared back at him refusing to look away.
He dropped the pen, rounded the desk, spun the swivel chair around and braced his hands on the arms pinning me in.
His glare turned into a smirk. “Do you know why I gave you this job?”
“Cause you hate using the computer.”
“That, and I told Blood we could trust you.” He huffed out a rough laugh. “He wasn’t cool with it, so I hope you’re not gonna let me down, cause it fuckin’ pisses me off when I have to tell my VP he was right and I was wrong.”
“You can trust me.” I widened my eyes, then lowered them, hoping for the intended innocence.
“I hope so.” He pushed away from the chair. “Get your ass behind the bar. We’re slammed tonight.”
He barely moved to let me pass and I could feel the heat radiating off his body as I shifted around him. I quickly left the office and made a beeline for the bar. Next time I needed to be way more careful and way more prepared.
I watched Marisol leave the office then I sunk into the chair and opened the drawers trying to figure out what the fuck she was looking for—because she was definitely looking for something other than a pen.
I didn’t keep much in the desk. Anything of value went into the safe. Who the fuck knew, maybe she was looking for cash. Either way she didn’t get anything, but I sure wasn’t sharing this with Blood. The last thing I needed was my VP up my ass with petty shit and paranoia.
I stayed in the office for the rest of the night and let Blood and Ricky handle the chaos. I was going through some emails and basic bullshit until the thud of the music cut off and the constant din of rowdy customers suddenly stilled. The eerie silence surrounded me. I pulled the gun away from the tape under my desk, checked the clip and shoved it into my waistband.
My every nerve triggered as I eased the office door open and slipped out into the hallway. I stayed plastered to the wall slowly making my way to the main room of the club.
A woman screamed, then the dead silence returned. From my position I saw four men in masks with guns drawn. Three of them had the crowd including the strippers, Blood, and Ricky corralled against the side wall while the other one stormed behind the bar. I made eye contact with Blood, and he shook his head slightly confirming my thoughts exactly.
We’d been in fucked up situations like this before and there was a thin line of what you could do and what you should do. If I charged into the room guns blazing it would turn into a bloodbath. People would be killed with a good chance the gunmen would get away. They were most likely druggies after quick cash which made them unpredictable and reckless. Not a good combination.
One of the gunmen stormed behind the bar and waved his gun at the other two girls who scurried away to the other side of the room. When he snatched Marisol’s arm my heart thudded hard against my ribs. I gripped the butt of my .38 and slipped it out of my waistband. With the crowd out of the way, I had a clear shot of the gunman behind the bar, but there were too many variables.
He pushed Marisol toward the register, then yelled at her in Spanish. She quickly entered the code and when the drawer sprang open, the gunman grabbed at the cash stuffing it into a canvas bag.
My insides raged with the need to take this fucker out until he turned and jostled Marisol in front of him. He easily contorted her body using her as a human shield while he made his way to the door. The other three fled the bar with the guy holding Marisol backing out last.
The room erupted with women crying and other customers talking and shouting at once. I ignored the chaos and stormed through the club. Outside, three of the gunmen jumped into a Honda parked at the curb while the one holding Marisol pushed her to the sidewalk. When he saw me draw my gun he leveled his, but I beat him to it firing twice hitting him in the gut and maybe the leg.
He yelled something in Spanish, then hopped through the open car door and into the back seat seconds before it sped away. I fired once more at the back of the car, then I rushed to Marisol’s side.
I easily scooped her up and she burrowed into my chest. Her heart was pounding so hard I could feel it through her thin tank top. I rushed into the club and set her on her feet.
“Are you all right?” I did a quick scan of her body for any gunshot wounds. Having been shot I knew you could be hit and not realize it until the adrenaline wore off.
She looked down at herself, then up at me, her big, onyx eyes wide with fear. “I think so.”
Thank fuck for that. Not too many things went my way lately, but at least this innocent girl didn’t get caught in the violence of my world.
When her shoulders shook I hauled her to me again and stroked her back. If I had my way, I’d hold her for the rest of the night, then tuck the two of us into my bed. The first time would be fast and hard to get rid of the vision of sweet Marisol with a gun pointed at her head, but the second time would be so fuckin’ slow that I’d drag every moan out of her until she was pleading for my cock.
Yeah right, like that might happen. Shut it down fucker before getting robbed at gunpoint isn’t your only problem.
The panicked voices of the customers rose in Spanish and English with questions and wanting to know what the fuck happened just a few short minutes ago.
Ricky and Blood herded everyone out of the club telling them we were closed for the rest of the night. Some of the girls clucked around Marisol making sure she was all right, but I wasn’t letting her out of my sight.
Blood flanked me on the other side. “We need to talk.”
“Let me just take care of her first.”
Blood gave Marisol a long look. “She looks fine to me.” Then he threw me a look that said, stop fuckin’ around.
“Just give me a minute.” I nailed Blood with a ‘don’t fuck with me cause I’m still your prez’ look.
Blood headed toward the office and I caught up to Marisol who’d walked to the other side of the room like she was trying to get away from me. She still didn’t have a car and there was no fuckin’ way I was letting her walk home alone after what just happened.
Bad idea which would definitely end in disaster, yet I couldn’t stop myself. Even though she wouldn’t admit it, she was shook, and fuck me but I wanted to be her savior.
When Marisol entered the back hallway, I followed her. I stopped briefly at the office door knowing I should have a meeting with Blood to discuss what happened. I told myself not to push through the back door, not to follow her or engage her in any way, but I did—and when I saw her eyeing my Harley I had to say something.
“Ever been on a motorcycle?”
She startled then spun around. “I was just . . . it’s very nice.”
The matte black and gold trim went way past nice. I put a lot of work into the maintenance and detailing and it came second only to my club brothers.
I stood next to Marisol and damn if she didn’t smell good. How that could be possible after being held at gunpoint in a smoky strip club, but yeah, she smelt good enough to eat. Ahhh, shit what the fuck was wrong with my brain?
“Have you ever ridden?”
She shook her head wide-eyed like I asked her if she ever put her head in a lion’s mouth.
“Hop on and I’ll give you a ride home.” Right, like I needed to feel her hot little body pressed up against me while the V-Twin engine of my Harley vibrates my dick into oblivion.
I flung my leg over the seat then nodded at Marisol and she climbed on behind me. Just like I suspected her body pressed up against mine was unbelievable sweet torture.
“Hold on tight and move with me.” I wound her arms around my waist, then throttled the engine and kicked the bike to life pulling out of the lot with her plastered up against me.
She moved with me like she’d been riding forever and all the reactions I’d spent two months avoiding came flooding through my cock like a tsunami.
When we got to the address she gave me I missed the warmth of her body the minute she dismounted.
“Thanks for the ride.” Our eyes locked and I couldn’t help thinking she was feeling it too .
I threw my leg over the saddle, then sat sideways on the seat. I caught her hand between mine and pulled her close. “You handled yourself good tonight.”
“Thanks. It all happened so fast, I just reacted.”
“You did good.”
Our bodies were close, almost touching, and she didn’t resist or pull back. Her eyes said yes and when her lips parted I covered them with mine, and it was fuckin’ amazing. Our tongues twisted and fought for control as my hands slipped around her waist and traveled down to her ass. I palmed her perfection and pulled her closer until our bodies were flush against each other.
“You know, this is the worst fuckin’ idea ever.”
Her innocent eyes connected with mine—troubled, tainted, haunted eyes. “Mmmm, but it feels so good.”
I couldn’t disagree with her. Right now, the worst fuckin’ idea turned into the best fuckin’ idea real quick. I could easily hoist her up on the saddle of my bike and drive into her so deep she’d be feeling me between her legs for a week.
I didn’t need any more encouragement. This woman was all in and so was I. Sure, I swore I wouldn’t do this until I got my shit straight, but I was also human and when a hot as fuck woman was throwing it at me big time a dog like me reacted.
I spun her around, wrapped my hands around her tiny waist and lifted her onto the saddle of my Harley. Then I stepped between her legs with my palms still on her ass. Just as I suspected—a perfect fit.
I captured her lips again and when she opened her mouth my tongue found hers in an erotic dance until we were both panting and moaning. I knew where this was going and I wanted to get there right the fuck now.
I jerked my head toward the house. “Why don’t we take this inside? ”
She shook her head. “Can’t.” Then she pushed me back and hopped off the seat. “I have to go in.”
“We can be quiet. Your roommates will never know we’re here.” If I let her go now my dick would never forgive me.
“It’s not that, it’s . . . I live with my parents.”
“No, shit.” I sure didn’t expect her to say that.
“I really have to go.” She maneuvered around me. “My father is very protective.”
“I don’t blame him, so let me walk you to the door. After the shit-show tonight I wanna make sure you get in safe.”
“Not necessary . . . and my father wouldn’t approve.”
“Wouldn’t approve of me?” It wasn’t a total shock. In all my thirty-five years I’d never met a woman’s parents. I didn’t have actual relationships, I had hookups, and I sure wasn’t the guy you brought home to daddy. I got it, but it still stung a little, and that bothered me too.
“My father is very old-fashioned.”
Fine. The next time we’d go to my rooms over the club. Didn’t fuckin’ matter to me.
“He wants me with a Mexican man.” She lowered her eyes to the concrete sidewalk. “And you’re not Mexican.”
“That, I’m not.”
I had no clue of my lineage. I spent my growing up years in foster care, and my teenage years in and out of juvie. I’d seen my sperm donor father exactly twice in my whole life. Once at a court hearing when child services took me away from my junkie mother and declared him unfit cause he didn’t have a job or a place to live.
The second time he heard I patched in with the Bastards. The bum figured I’d be an easy touch for a handout and some free dope. Neither of which he got. The conversation was short but not sweet and we certainly never discussed my ancestry. More like I told him to get his deadbeat ass the fuck out of my clubhouse and never come back.
Marisol leaned up and kissed my cheek shaking me out of my minute of retrospection. Then just as quickly she turned up the narrow driveway and disappeared around the small house going in the back door.
I loved the effortless, graceful way she moved, sexy without even knowing it. The tank top she wore with The Tropics logo along with the bootie shorts were just like every other female waitstaff, but somehow she managed to make it look classy. She wore makeup but it was never too heavy or dramatic. Even her hair flowed down her back in soft waves. She didn’t have the instinctive toughness of the other local girls either. Another angle that didn’t quite fit.
I stood there another few minutes staring at the little stucco house like an asshole thinking she might reappear. Of course, she didn’t so I threw my leg over the saddle and throttled my beloved Harley. The one thing that never let me down.