Property of LoneStar (Kings of Anarchy MC: East Texas #4)

Prologue

LoneStar

My eyes are like magnets, they’re drawn to the friend of our new tutor, teacher, whatever the fuck title Jersey’s going by.

It’s not that she’s the most stunning woman on the planet that captivates me and keeps my eyes trained on her, it’s that she has this glow about her and a laughter that makes you smile no matter what mood you’re in.

I find myself looking for her in the crowd, searching her out, and I never do that shit.

“Who’re you looking for, brother?” Slayer asks as he sidles up beside me next to the bonfire. He pulls his pack of smokes out of his pocket and lights one up.

“Nobody,” I lie, lifting my beer to my lips and swallowing a large gulp.

“Don’t let Letti catch you smoking.” I chuckle, because at our last gathering, she marched up to him, grabbed his new, freshly opened pack and tossed it into the fire.

She’s been on a mission lately, determined to keep us all as healthy as possible.

With rapt attention, I watch as Slayer peruses the perimeter with a keen eye, looking for the Tasmanian Devil herself, which he’s recently tagged her as. She comes in like a wrecking ball, destroying paths as she continues with her sole objective—keeping us all in line.

“It’s like she didn’t get the memo that we’re bikers, heart and soul, we live on the edge of life,” he mutters.

He’s right, we are and we do. But we aren’t your typical bikers who party day and night, house club sluts, and walk around with our dicks swinging in the wind.

Too much damn drama to bring that into the clubhouse.

We want some tail, we go out and find it the old fashioned way, it’s one of the things Riptide insisted on when we moved to East Texas, one none of us opposed.

Don’t get me wrong, we live wild and free, we party, and we get laid, but the reward is so much sweeter when we have to put the work in for it.

Plus, every single one of us knew one day, we’d want to settle down and have a few rug rats, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to have sluts roaming around, half dressed because it’d be a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere for our families.

Construction is underway, the remnants of that piled up and out of the way from where we’re hanging out, but it still captures my attention and has me shaking my head at how much things are changing.

A schoolhouse is being constructed with underground tunnels and safe rooms, not something one thinks of when they’re ushering their kids off for an education, but unfortunate events make that necessary.

Jersey’s trailer has been moved in, buckled down, septic installed, and all the other vexing shit that goes along with making it livable is done.

“Man, seriously, who are you looking for?” Slayer asks, pulling a lung full of smoke in as he puffs on his cigarette.

I wave the plume of smoke away from my face and try to dismiss him. With a nonchalant tone, I answer, “No one, nosy ass.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the teach,” he teases, but there’s an underlying growl in his voice that has me snapping my head in his direction and raising my eyebrows at him. “What? Don’t look at me like that, LoneStar. It was just a question.”

“It was more than that,” I accuse. “What is it about her that rubs you the wrong way?”

“Can’t answer that because I don’t know,” he admits. At least he’s being honest and isn’t feeding me a line of bullshit.

“She’s not going anywhere, Slayer. You need to figure out a way to be in the same room as her without wanting to strangle her.”

“I don’t want to strangle her, per se,” he says around a sigh. “But the way she saunters around her as if her shit doesn’t stink, grates on my nerves.”

I chuckle. “She doesn’t do that, brother. You’re seeing something none of the rest of us do. She’s shy, I think you’re confusing that with a woman who has her nose stuck up in the air.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Whatever. I think you’re wrong, but I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and try to cool my jets when she’s around.”

“Good, you can start now,” I say as the door to Jersey’s trailer swings open and the duo of women come strolling out.

My VP quickly stands up, tosses his butt into the fire, and asks, “Need another beer? I’m heading to the cooler to grab one for myself.”

“Nah, I’m keeping things light tonight,” I state, my vision glued to the tight ass of Britton as she and Jersey walk over to the folding tables with a buffet of food on them.

“Suit yourself,” he says as he high steps it toward the other side of the yard, putting as much distance between him and Jersey as he can.

“She’s going to turn his world upside down,” I say to myself, noticing that Jersey’s eyes navigate to him as he makes his way across the field which causes me to laugh. “Foreplay is the best way.”

“What has you over here giggling like a girl?” A sexy, make my dick as hard as a rock, feminine voice asks.

“What’s it to you?” I ask, my lips tilting upward with levity.

One of my favorite pastime events is bantering with her.

The woman gives as good as she gets. Not a trait you find often these days and it’s one I find highly attractive.

“And, I don’t giggle. I’m a man card wielder.

Have it in my wallet if you want to dig it out and check for proof.

” For emphasis, I lift my hips and swivel them in the seat, shifting from left to right.

She tosses her head back and howls with laughter. “You’re a dirty dog, LoneStar.”

“Don’t laugh, you’ll hurt his feelings,” I say, sticking out my bottom lip. “He’s sensitive, ya know?”

“Aww,” she coos, reaching down and patting my dick like he’s the dog she accused me of being.

Her petting touch sends a shockwave of electricity flowing through me.

With one action, she caused me to heel. I’m so damn flabbergasted and thunderstruck that for once, I can’t seem to formulate or articulate any words.

All thoughts have left my cranium, I’m a clean slate. A void. “Cat got your tongue?”

Clearing my throat, I play on her pun. “Damn, woman. Your words are as sharp as your claws.”

“Is it my words that got you or the fact that I touched your dick that has you saying that?” Her eyes brighten and I know she’s fixing to go in for the kill. “That is your dick, right? You didn’t stuff a sock and put it in your jockstrap, did you?”

Was that a backhanded compliment about the size of my junk? Somehow, I don’t think it is, which is why I take a second to calm down my racing libido so I don’t make a fool of myself.

“Jesus fuck,” I grumble, running my free hand down my face and giving her a scathing, recriminatory look. “I’m not fourteen, Britton. I don’t need a fake dick to impress the ladies.”

“If that thing is real, you’re right, you don’t,” she snickers, glancing back down at my zipper straining dick.

Swear to fuck, my jeans are strangling my manhood.

“That thing is a weapon, LoneStar.” Leaning in closer as if she’s going to share a secret with me, one that she doesn’t want anyone to overhear, she asks, “Have you split a woman in half with that sword of yours?”

“What?” I sputter before breaking out into laughter. “Not that I’ve been made aware of.”

She leans back in her chair, her eyes raking me in as she releases a sigh. “That’s a shame. I’d hope that a man of your size would know how to use it.”

“I know how to use it,” I defend. “Want proof?”

“Maybe one day,” she says, giving my package a longing look as Jersey takes the empty seat beside her. She looks up at me and winks before shifting her attention to her friend, where they act like I’m not even here. If that isn’t a strike against my ego, I don’t know what is.

“Dammit. She got me again,” I complain as I watch the interaction between the women. I don’t know what it is about her that has me so mesmerized, but I’ll be damned if I don’t want to find out. “That woman’s gonna sink my ship.”

Not one who enjoys being the third wheel, intentional or otherwise, I left them to their conversation and headed back into the clubhouse to bed down for the night.

All of the planning, hard labor around the property, and scouting missions have wiped me out.

None of us are catching much shut eye since the Dragons have started slowly being released from their imprisonment.

Jerome and Patrick are still in hiding like the pussies they are, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have eyes and ears in town, watching and listening, trying to get a step ahead of us.

As I crawl between the clean, crisp sheets, I close my eyes and bury my nose into my pillowcase to help me catch a few Z’s.

I have a thing about scents which is why I’m obsessed with laundry and anything hygienic.

I shower twice a day, every morning when I wake up and each night before I fall asleep which is why I’m now carting my tired ass to the bathroom instead of enjoying the bed I made earlier today.

The smoke from the bonfire is embedded in my hair and clothes, causing my nose to wrinkle.

I don’t wait for the shower to warm, wanting to get this done so I can fall into dreamland.

Once the water is no longer frigid, I step under the showerhead and rinse my body before grabbing my body wash and lathering it on my loofah.

Yeah, I’m that kinda guy. My mom always pressed exfoliation upon me since she’s an esthetician, skin care is her life, and this was my compromise—a loofah instead of a washrag.

My mom is where I get a lot of my compulsive tendencies from.

Damn, I miss that woman. She’s nosy as fuck, but it comes from a good place.

I’m a sperm bank baby, no dad in the picture, the man who helped create me is nothing more than a number in a booklet.

I grew up with a single mom whose life revolved around her career and me.

She never wanted a man for herself, claimed they were too much trouble and she didn’t want to rectify her actions or explain where her money was spent—she wanted to stand on her own two feet.

Hell, now that I’m thinking about it, the woman never even dated. If she was lonely, she never let on that she was. I do not want that to be the way I live my life. Alone. I want kids, but I want them the old fashioned way, not produced in a lab the same way I was.

I think that’s where my jealousy of Indiana, Riptide, and Icer stems from. I want a family of my own, but I haven’t found that one woman who calls to me. Of course, the second that thought floats through my mind, a certain woman’s face makes an appearance. I shake my head and abolish that image.

Nope. Not going there. I may enjoy her, she has entertainment value, but she’s not my usual type.

I like her as a person, and I like our teasing, but I don’t think my life is for her.

The woman is a wanderer, she belongs with a nomad.

She admitted once that she has a hard time staying still, she wants to travel, see the sights of the world, and that’s not something I can or ever will be able to offer her.

It’s best if I leave that attraction alone and keep on keeping on.