Chapter Twenty-Two
Grinder
“Let’s fuckin’ gooooo, PsyMacko!” People are jealous of how clever I am.
It’s the first race night of the year and this place is on fucking fire. Teams from neighboring counties and even a couple from South Carolina have joined us tonight. The system is pretty simple. Text messages go out about a race and an hour before said race happens, the address is sent.
The secrecy behind our races is an added layer to the excitement. Cops usually have an idea of what’s going on but we’re generally a couple of steps ahead of them. We’ve been shut down before but no matter how hard the sheriffs try, they can’t outride us. Not now, not ever.
“I don’t think that’s how name blending works.” I look down at Paxton, Bear and Athena’s kid, and frown. He thinks being a teenager makes him an authority on all things, but Uncle Grinder’s about to give him a lesson on the facts of motherfuckin’ life.
I cock my head and smirk. “How’s the riding going?” Then, I give his CAM boot a pointed look.
Paxton’s been with Bear and Athena ever since his mother died a couple of years ago. His smart mouth fits right in with the rest of us degenerates, but sometimes, someone needs to remind this kid that we’ve been assholes a lot longer than him. That’s where I come in.
“Fuck off!” Not only has the kid been learning to ride and putting in the work to be good at it, but he’s talking like us, too.
We’re probably not the best role models on that front—exhibit A…
a sprained ankle—and it also doesn’t help that I’ve been teaching him the best insults on the down low.
Athena would lose her shit and Bear would finish me off if they ever heard my master class in the art of distasteful swearing.
“That’s a lazy man’s clap back, kid. There’s a better way of shutting down a genius who just made you feel like you’re a fool.” I point to myself and grin. “I’m the genius in this scenario.”
“And I’m supposed to be the fool?” He raises a brow and, even at fourteen, I see the kid’s potential for the future. His succession as the club freebird is assured. I just need more time as his Yoda before he can become a Skywalker.
“If the boot fits.” Shrugging, I ruffle his hair and almost lose my fingers. Damn, I forgot that you’re never supposed to touch a teen’s hair. “Anyway, sarcasm is the key, young Paxawan. Don’t take yourself seriously.”
“Don’t listen to Grinder. Any advice he gives you, you do the exact opposite.
” Bear walks up to us, Athena at his side and their fingers interlocked like the power couple they are.
Once I’ve got Parker and Spencer at my side, we’ll be twinsies.
Or…triplets? No, that can’t be right. Huh…
I guess I do have a taboo line I won’t cross.
I smirk, then make the most serious face I can muster, addressing Paxton again. “And that’s why you should always wear rubbers. Protection is key.”
Paxton chuckles but also turns a bright shade of embarrassed while Bear growls at me like I’ve just taken a dump on his parenting. Then the kid proves his worth, making me really fucking proud.
He turns to Bear, two big round eyes and a furrowed brow staring up at his brick wall of a dad. “So…I’m not supposed to wear a condom?”
Bear, however, doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re not supposed to be having sex. Period.”
“Oh, shit!” My head’s thrown back and I’m outright belly laughing. “I think that ship sailed last summer when that blonde—” My story is cut short when Paxton punches me in the stomach and fucking growls like he’s mini Bear.
Athena steps up, and if looks could annihilate, I’d be Chernobyl and she'd be the reactor about to explode. Yeah, I can handle my brother, but Athena? Nope. I’m out.
“All right, gotta go. Good luck with that, young Paxawan.” I bolt, avoiding what’s going to be a serious discussion about sex and the appropriate age for having it.
I lost my virginity when I was twelve and I turned out pretty fucking fantastic. Not sure what the big deal is.
Making my way closer to the race, I bro hug a few friends and brothers and even shake hands with a dude from the Toxic Rebels. In private, everyone calls them derogatory names, but that’s not my style.
“What’s up, man? Still riding with the Sicknick Rebels, I see?” I give the guy’s patch a pointed look and grin. “I would invite you over to a real club, but we have morals.” I believe in insulting people to their faces. That’s what it means to have balls. Or maybe it’s integrity. One of the two.
Our neighboring rivals were always a bunch of douchebags, but a few years ago, they turned out to not only be grade-A assholes but also some fucked up, perverse pieces of shit.
I haven’t hidden my disdain for that fucking club.
I don’t care that they changed leadership and are now playing nice.
They went after us and I’ll never forgive let alone forget that shit.
“‘Sup, Grinder? Yeah, we’ve come a long way, man. Let it go.” I grin at the long-haired, wannabe hot shot.
Though, I have to admit, he’s pretty, but even I have my limits.
I mean, I’m not hating on the guy. He’s decent for a shit stain.
But he just needs to remember the lives we lost because they voted in a club president who couldn’t even take care of his own sister.
Worse, he did unthinkable things to her.
“Maybe in the future. But that day is not today.” I slap the guy on the back and quickly make my way to the starting line.
Just as I reach the crowd clapping and cheering our two best riders, I see Spencer.
Taking advantage of my position and the fact that he can’t see me from this angle, I advance until I’m behind him.
Wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his neck, I cup his balls and whisper in his ear. “You look so fucking delicious in your tight jeans and a Henley.”
I’ve placed bets with myself on who’s going to fuck whom first. On the one hand, I want to feel every inch of my cock sliding inside his ass until I bottom out.
But when I think about him hovering over me, grabbing my hips as he fucks his frustrations and doubts away, it just makes me hard as a fucking rock.
“How are you so hard already?” Silly Spencer thinking the mere thought of him doesn’t make me ready to pound nails on the spot.
“It’s the Docock Effect. You’re the Doc and your ass affects my cock.” I thrust my hips to drive home my point.
“You say the weirdest things, you know that?” He’s chuckling as he turns to face me.
“I tried calling you but figured you must’ve been with Parker.
” I don’t answer his question right away, my body is too focused on his lips and because I have no self control when it comes to Parker or Spencer, I bury my hand in his hair and slam my mouth against his.
There are certain things that should never be half-assed and kissing is one of them. It’s the engine to a bike. The power hidden beneath the pretty exterior. If the kiss sucks, then the rest will too.
If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s riding and fucking. Okay, two things. Needless to say, my mouth is owning him, my tongue demanding entrance and my teeth claiming his lips. I kiss him like he’s the only person in the world because right now, that’s exactly what he is.
My ears fill with the noise of revving engines, the crackling of the megaphone, and the cheers and whistles all around us. It’s kind of perfect.
When we separate, the runners are already fighting it out on the desolate road, their back lights the only way for us to know just how close the race truly is.
“Come on, your girl Mac is gonna kick my boy’s ass.” Spencer grins like a proud brother, knowing damn well I’m right. Psycho’s a fucking incredible pilot but Mac’s skills are finer, more honed in.
“She was excited to get back to racing.” Spence puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes trained on the road ahead as we wait for the bikes to come back across the finish line.
“She even bought a brand new outfit to celebrate the occasion. All purple.” He side-eyes me and chuckles. He knows what’s coming.
“My favorite color. Interesting.” I blow out a deep breath and shake my head. “Oh man, I didn’t realize she has a crush on me. Psycho’s gonna kill me and won’t even pretend that he didn’t. That motherfucker will gladly go back to prison with a smile on his face.”
My ass buzzes, making me really fucking happy. It’s late, Parker should be done with work by now.
“Is that Parker?” Spence asks, his eyes trained on my phone, and the smile in his voice puts my entire world on the right axis.
“Probably.” But when I look at the screen, I see it’s Maribel. “Well, shit. Last time Maribel called we had to clean up dead bodies.” Fuck, what the hell did Parker do now?
“What’s up, Maribel? Did my girl cause trouble again?” Spencer looks horrified by my greeting. After all, he’s the healer and I’m…well, not.
“Hi, Diego. Nah, that girl’s a hoot. I got your number from one of the employees at the club. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
Employee is a stretch. But I’m not gonna tell her they’re our Khunts because I like my balls right where they are.
“As you can tell from the noise, I’m at a race. What’s goin’ on?” The crowd is suddenly louder, which tells me Psycho and Mac are coming back. I place a hand to my ear and trot away from the thick of it.
“Well, it’s probably nothing, but the salon called looking for Parker.
Apparently, she went to get some supplies around noon and never came back.
” I stop dead in my tracks, my entire body drowning in adrenaline as it knows it’s going to need the rush in order to get through the rest of the night.
I mean, I know Parker can get distracted, but not to this point, right?
Still, I don’t want to alarm Mirabel, she has enough going on.
“Ah, I’ll get in touch with her, Mirabel. Thanks for letting me know.” I’m about to hang up when her next words only make my blood drop a dozen degrees.
“I’ve been calling her for the last couple of hours. Figured I’d let you know.” Fuck. I’ve been calling her for the last thirty minutes and have been getting the same results. Nothing. I thought maybe she was doing overtime or taking a shower.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll take care of it.” Maribel doesn’t have time to say goodbye before I’m pressing the red end call button, only to pull up Parker’s name to call her.
It rings as I walk over to Spencer. My vision is like a dark tunnel and he’s the only sight I can see clearly.
It rings again as I grab onto his bicep. Spencer turns, the big grin on his face dying as he takes in my face. I’m guessing I look as panicked as I’m feeling.
It rings a third time, then goes to voicemail.
“It’s me. I can’t pick up, obviously, or else I would’ve. Leave a message.”
Fuck.
“Parker, you better fucking answer my next call or else I will bend you over my knee and spank your ass so hard, you’ll remember how worried you made me for the next week.” My forefinger punches the red icon when Spencer places his hand on my face.
“What’s going on?” He’s turned his back to Psycho and Mac, who are both grinning ear to ear. The club brothers, the prospects, and the women are all hugging and shoulder slapping our runners, but I can’t bring myself to give a shit.
“No one’s seen Parker since noon.” Spencer steps back at my words as if I’ve physically slapped him.
“Where’s the last place she was seen?” It’s like he’s in EMT mode, which I appreciate because I’m in I-don’t-fucking-know-what-to-do mode.
“The salon,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Okay, let’s go retrace her steps.” Whatever the fuck those may be.
“Hold on, let me try calling her again.” I press call and wait.
One ring.
Two rings.
On the third, the phone picks up and I swear to fuck my knees almost give out from the relief.
“Hello?” That relief dies a fiery death.
“Who the fuck are you and where the fuck is Parker?”