Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Grinder
“Dude, what the fuck? I’ve been wai—oh shit. C’mon, man. Again?” Boner’s tone goes from impatience to exasperation faster than a Ducati full throttle on the Autobahn.
I get it. This isn’t my first bloody rodeo with a dead body that needs to be disposed of, but he doesn’t understand.
“She said ‘oops’.” My voice is barely a whisper but it’s full of awe. And more than that, I can’t seem to look away from this angel of death. Blood is the perfect color for her.
“Jesus F. Christ, we need to call Bash before someone sees you…me…and…you are?” Shit, Boner’s right. Where the fuck are my manners?
In my pants, apparently, because my dick is saluting high and proud, that’s for damn sure.
“Yeah, I don’t disclose my name until at least the third date.” And, she’s British. That accent is going to make me do very bad things and make them feel so fucking good.
Maybe I should record her saying random words so I can listen to them the next time I jack off.
“Grinder, snap out of it, man. We need to move this…fuck, there’s blood all over the place.
What the hell did he have time to do to you?
” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just mumbles something about shoving too many skeletons into the closet.
Also, funny how he assumes this is all about me. Not that I’d out her, but still.
“The damsel was in distress so I gave her a hand.” She stands to her full height and fuck me, she’s perfect for fucking against a wall.
“Call me a damsel again and I’ll stab your nutsack.”
I grin, my hand going straight to said nutsack on instinct. Gotta protect my jewels.
“Foreplay. I like it.”
She cocks her head to the side like some kind of villain in one of those superhero movies and lets a small smile spread across her face, blood coating her teeth. Stunning.
“You’re mental, yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” We’re having a moment. Two peas, one pod, zero problems.
“All right, Bash is on his way with the van.” Boner is completely unfazed by the chemistry brewing between the Stabby Brit and me and that’s fine. “He might be a while, they’re dropping off the bikes.” I hear him but I don’t care.
“What’s all that about?” She points to my Sons of Khaos patch, my eyes following her accusatory finger before I raise a brow at her and grin like a maniac.
“Motorcycle club. We ride and have a good time.” I’m giving her the cliff notes. I may be under her witchy spell, but I’m not telling her all of my secrets yet.
“Sounds like kids pretending to be adults.” She shrugs and heads for the parking lot, where her blinding purple suitcase is waiting for her.
I panic a little, thinking she may be leaving, and when Boner slaps his hand on my shoulder to either get my attention or stop me from following her, I whip around and grin at him.
“She’s…” I don’t actually have words for her.
“Yeah, yeah. Your dick has found its forever vagina. Same shit different week. Let’s go, loverboy.
We need to hide another fucking body.” He’s not wrong.
We’ve already wasted precious time and with whatever shit is brewing with Shade—the kidnapping and brutal fucking beat down—we need to keep the cops off our scent.
This is definitely not the way to go about it.
I shrug at his comment and as my gaze catches the fucker lying in a pool of blood, I suddenly remember what should be unforgettable. Damn, this woman is making my brain fry in all the best ways.
“Hold that thought.” Walking around Boner, I pull out my handy-dandy pliers that have their own special place in my leather cut and grin down at the dead guy.
“I almost forgot my souvenir.” Technically, this isn’t my kill, but that’s never stopped me from adding to my tooth collection before.
My only regret is that he won’t be feeling a goddamn thing since he’s as dead as dead will ever get.
Rolling her way back to us with her luggage is none other than my favorite murderess, who stops in her tracks just as I admire the molar in the bright moonlight.
“I’m not even going to ask.” She doesn’t have to, her face is doing all the talking.
“It’s for my collection.” That’s all I give her, which is a fucking lot considering I’ve just admitted to, at the very least, assault, so I change the subject. “We’ve got a van on the way that’ll take you to our compoun—”
“No, thank you.” She interrupts with her posh accent as she attempts to look down her nose at me. Not gonna lie, the contrast of her getting all uppity with the streaks of blood covering her clothes is near damn comical.
“Look, I don’t know what happened here, but y’all chit-chatting ain’t gonna keep us from twenty to life if someone else decides to take a fucking piss here.” I hook a thumb behind me and cock my head with a grin as wide as the Appalachian Mountains.
“What he said.”
“Fine,” she concedes, but barely. “I’d like to be dropped off at my hotel.
” Her eyes are darting from me to Boner and back again like she’s trying to figure out a plan.
Meanwhile, Boner is grunting and huffing as he works really fucking hard to move the body deeper into the shadows behind the dumpster.
Which is laughable since it’s located just off center from the back door of the gas station.
I decide to humor her. Something tells me that going head to head with this beauty, as fun as it would be, could land us in jail, and poor Boner is actually innocent this time around.
“How about this? If your hotel is on our way, then we’ll drop you off.” We definitely won’t do that. “But if it’s a huge detour, we’ll take you to our compound where you’ll get one of many spare bedrooms all to yourself.” Unless she invites me in, then all bets are off.
“It’s just down that road, I am perfectly capable of walking.” This little Stabby is lying through her teeth but I have to admire how well she does it.
“Down this road?” I point to the right and raise my brow, waiting on her next lie.
“Yes, exactly that.” Aaaand she doubles down.
“Hmm, Boner? You know of any hotels southbound on 17 from here?” I keep my eyes squarely on her, watching as her cool exterior begins to deflate just a little.
“Nah, not unless she’s staying in the office of a used car lot.” This entire strip of road is like an ode to dealerships. “If you want to buy a vehicle, though, that’s the direction to go.”
I’m about to crank up the charm, make her feel safe and all that shit.
It’s the truth, too. I mean, sure…we’ve been attacked by sex trafficking thugs, rival motorcycle clubs, and had our garages literally blown up because we were harboring a victim.
Aside from that, our compound is like an armored tank.
“The fuck is going on back here?” Ah, this is inconvenient. Our stabby guest doesn’t turn around—smart—but I can’t do anything to hide the blood on my face and arms. Thankfully, the lighting out here fucking sucks, which puts women in a vulnerable position.
Just that thought pisses me off.
“Go back inside. Ain’t nothing to see here.” My voice is low but clear.
“The fuck do you think you are?” Damn, people just cannot take a hint.
“Don’t move.” I’m talking to…fuck, I need to get her name, and if she doesn’t give me one, I’m making it up.
When I turn my attention back to asshole wannabee who was probably popular in high school but fizzed out once he became the little fish in a big pond, I’m no longer amused.
“You wanna know who I am, asshole? I’m the guy who’s gonna burn this place down because it’s not safe.
This young lady was attacked tonight by some random fucker wanting to steal her suitcase.
” I’m finding it difficult to ignore Stabby’s face as her facial expressions slowly morph from annoyed to amused to… holy shit, this is brilliant.
“I was so scared!” In the matter of a half a second, she’s sobbing, clutching at my cut with real fucking tears soaking her cheeks.
Damn, she’s the reincarnation of Elizabeth Taylor with a touch of Ma Barker for good, deadly, measure.
“He just”—hiccup—“grabbed my arm and”—hiccup—“slammed me against that wall”—hiccup and finger pointing—“right there.” By the time she turns around to face who I’m now guessing is the owner, if the horrified look on his face is anything to go by, she’s in full character.
“I was bleeding from my head. And see? He even punched me.” Whoa.
That’s not acting. That dead motherfucker gave her a bruise. Good thing he’s about to be fertilizer.
In my periphery, I see movement. Looking over with discretion to avoid the Gen-Xer attendant here catching on to this overly dramatic ruse, I see Boner crossing his arms and leaning against the dumpster, effectively blocking his view of the dead body.
“Shit, are you okay?” Gotta give it to the guy, he changed his tone pretty fucking quickly so I guess I’ll let him live. Maybe.
“I…”—fucking hiccup—“I don’t know.” Then she turns back to me, fingers fisting my leather vest. “I just want to go home. Can we please go home? My babies are waiting for me.” Oh, fucking hell.
She may be going a tad too far, but I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge and tonight is no different.
“Come on, I’ll call the babysitter.” I speak softly into her thick red hair, then turn my narrowed gaze to the guy.
“If I come back here and that floodlight isn’t fixed, I’ll fucking light this place up myself.
” Okay, maybe I went too far, implying I’d set fire to this whole fucking gas station, and because I am a betting man, I’m calling it right now.
That asshole’s about to whine to the cops like a little pussy.
“Yeah, man. Yeah, of course.”
I nod, short and sharp, then lead Stabby out of the alley just as the guy goes back inside.
Like a fucking miracle, Bash arrives with the van and proud smile on his face. “Yo! Someone called for reinforcements?”