THIRTEEN
Splice
October went by in a flash, and now it was the second week of November.
Splice blew warm air into his frozen hands, his steps matching those of his two brothers. He shouldered Tomb, who was walking beside Diamond.
“Do you ever get the feeling we spend all our time chasing down D-bags who owe us money?”
Tomb huffed a sort of laugh, pulling the sheepskin jacket up by his ears. It was cold enough to snow, but as yet, Utah had dropped none of the white stuff on them. Splice was grateful; he hated having to cabin up his motorcycle and to use the truck.
“You love punching people.” His buddy replied.
“I got bored with listening to his excuses. We all have places to be. I don’t have time to listen to his gums flapping with lies.”
It wasn’t somewhere Splice needed to go, but he had a ten p.m. habit he never broke, and he was already late. He was so sick of everyone else screwing up that he just straight-up punched the port guy.
“He soon got his safe open and miraculously found the payment after you punched him.” Added Diamond.
Splice grunted, fishing in his pocket. He found a cinnamon-flavored candy and popped it into his mouth as soon as he unwrapped it.
“Don’t you have any brownies?” he asked Diamond, their resident baker extraordinaire.
The other two laughed as they covered the space to their parked bikes. The port was lit up for deliveries arriving in Utah from all over the world.
Tonight had been about getting things moving again so the Diablos’ import business could run smoothly with the Ireland-born Murphys.
Now that he’d gotten out his aggression, Splice was jonesing for a sugar fix. One hard candy was not gonna cut it.
“Not on me,” Diamond scoffed.
“You need to carry them. For emergencies.”
“I usually shadow Axel. And the Prez has never needed emergency brownies.”
“You’re goddamn out of order.” He grunted, absolutely meaning it.
Their bikes were parked in a line. Tomb climbed on his first, pulling on leather gloves. “The fuck has you in a bad mood tonight?”
“I’m late.” He followed suit and rumbled his bike to life, feeling the thrum underneath him.
“For your period? It shows.” Smirked Tomb.
“I’m gonna meet up with Brogan Murphy.” He was their Irish contact for the prescription drug imports.
The Murphys’ expanded Canadian imports, combined with their connection to Rider, Prez of the Renegade Souls MC, meant Splice’s club could now distribute drugs throughout the States, offering cheaper medication to people priced out of the healthcare system.
Something illegal for the right reasons? Maybe there was an altruistic medal in that somewhere, he mused with a smirk.
“Catch you later.”
“Nina wants you to come to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Why? Does she have a bone to pick with me?”
Tomb smirked. He’d be on Team Nina if she did. Disloyal bastard. “Not that I know of.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ve gotta be somewhere at ten, though.”
Tomb rode off, leaving Diamond and Splice.
“I notice you don’t hang around the club much these days, brother. Something going on with you?” probed Diamond.
“I notice I’m not getting cookies or cake anymore.” He countered.
“Whatever woman you’re chasing, ask her to bake for you.” Diamond fired back. A smirk on his face. “What did Mouse say she was called? Lily? Nah, Lisa, right?”
“Mouse talks too much. I’ll punch his teeth out.”
“So, you are chasing this woman?”
There was very little chasing, since he hadn’t seen Lisa face-to-face since the last time. They spoke on the phone every night at around 10 p.m. for the past few weeks, and he was determined to make tonight’s call.
Diamond must have noticed Splice’s lack of response because his face turned serious and he leaned forward on the handlebars.
“Brother, listen, I’m not ripping the fuck out of you.
If you like this woman, I’m pleased as fuck for you.
You haven’t shown interest in anyone for a long time.
I think the sweet bottoms have mourned your loss. ”
Splice scoffed, amused.
He didn’t have anything to say about Lisa, yet. So he didn’t give Diamond a response, but he slapped his brother on the shoulder and told the bodyguard he’d see him at the clubhouse tomorrow.
Once home, he kicked off his boots in the mudroom and left his denim jacket and leather cut on the kitchen island.
Then he connected a call and plonked his ass on the edge of the couch arm.
He’d ridden by Lisa’s place, and he saw lights, assuming she was still up, but he was over forty minutes late for their call.
It wasn’t a standing arrangement, but Splice hadn’t missed a night since the first call.
“I thought you must have fallen off your skateboard.” That was her response when she picked up the phone. The softest, sweetest voice rolled the tension right out of Splice’s shoulder blades, and he exhaled slowly, thankful she was joking with him.
“Would you nurse my wounds, sweetheart?”
“Only if you weren’t pouring with blood. I don’t do well with blood. We’d both end up fainting.” She chuckled. “I was just going to climb into bed. Have you just finished working?”
“Yeah,” he replied automatically, but his brain’s energy had focused only on that one word.
Bed. Putting Lisa and bed together was always gonna rearrange his fucking imagination.
He was only a man, after all. He was pretty much one-track-minded.
And though they kept their conversations surface-level, it didn’t mean his thoughts didn’t veer off-kilter while he listened to her voice every night.
“Climb into bed,” he told her, and wondered what she was wearing. Would she cut off the call if he asked? “I’ll grab a shower and wash the day’s grime off me. Do you wanna sleep, or are you good to talk?”
“I can talk.”
“Okay. I’ll leave the line open. I won’t take long.”
He took the phone up to the upper level, leaving it on speakerphone on the bed while he stripped off his clothes and dumped them in the laundry basket.
He went to boil his cold bones in the shower.
Well aware of who was waiting for him, he didn’t take long.
He didn’t even jerk off as he might have—as he’d been doing every night once he got off the phone with Lisa, because he wanted to talk to her more than he wanted a climax.
“Are you still with me, sweetheart?” he called out, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. He could see the phone screen; the call was still connected, but she might have fallen asleep.
“I’m here.”
“Did you get comfortable in bed?”
“Yep.”
Fuck. Great.
On his best behavior then.
Because as much as he was trying to be friendly with Lisa, he needed little provocation to turn the charm on her. Biting the inside of his cheek, he finished drying off, dumping the towels in the basket. He put on some boxer briefs and flopped onto the comforter, feeling the heater warm him up.
“What kept you busy tonight?” Lisa asked. He heard her moving around and swallowed his groan, imagining her in bed. Remembering how she’d let him curl around her back after sex. He really missed cuddling. “Or is it one of those ‘don’t ask’ biker situations?”
Splice chuckled, having explained in some of their previous conversations that he couldn’t always share what his job entailed.
“Yeah, sweetheart, one of those.”
“Can I... no, it doesn’t matter.”
“No, tell me.”
“I was going to ask if there was ever a time that you got hurt doing one of those ‘don’t ask’ moments; would you be able to tell me that, at least? But I realized it’s not my place to ask for that.”
Without knowing she was doing it, Lisa shredded his resolve, and if she asked him to ride to her house right now, he’d be out the door before the last word left her lips.
“Are you worried about me?”
“About you getting hurt, of course, yes,” came her immediate response, and it jerked Splice’s heart under his rib cage.
“I’m good, sweetheart. But if it ever came to it, I’d let you know.” To lighten the sudden thick air in his lungs, he added, “Then you can look after my wounds, yeah? Pat my head and tell me it will be okay.”
On the line, she laughed so throatily, his cock took an interest until Splice had to heel over the bastard to calm down.
“Just call me Nurse Wolfe, at your service.”
Fuck him.
There was no space before Splice’s mind descended into the gutter with that invitation. He wouldn’t mind roleplaying something sexy with her.
“Unless you want me to turn into a filthy pervert, let’s swerve from that path, sweetheart. Tell me what shit you were working on today. Did you eat?”
“Oh.” She exhaled, and the sound swirled around Splice’s torso, hitting all the hot spots in his abdomen.
When alone, or even when he was in the company of his brotherhood, Splice, since the day he’d seen Lisa again for the first time, hadn’t stopped the train of thought about her.
The more his thoughts turned to her, the more he wanted to keep on thinking about her to obsessive levels.
The first time he laid eyes on Lisa, he thought she was the most stunning thing on the planet.
Time and space hadn’t changed his mind on that.
If anything, she’d gotten more gorgeous, to the point his mind melted into pure filth hearing her voice or seeing her name light up his screen with a message.
He had it bad, and he couldn’t even deny it.
Now he needed to decide which road he wanted to take with her.
Because, as yet, she hadn’t given him a sign, other than their nightly calls, if she wanted more than a friendship.
Having her back in his life felt pretty damn good; he knew that much, and he would not ruin it by being on his worst behavior straight out of the gate.
“Um, yeah, I had dinner with my assistant; it was her birthday.”
“What did you eat?”
“Do you really want to know that, Ryan? It’s boring information.”
“Nothing you tell me is boring, yeah? I enjoy knowing all that you got up to, where the day took you. And yeah, what you ate, so I know you’re not starving.”
“I had the most delicious cake.” She shared.