Jax’s cold smile didn’t falter but he was tensed and ready to move at the slightest indication that Bronx was going to try and put a bullet in his head, no matter the consequence to his woman. Yeah, Bronx was that cruel. “So are we going to quit measuring each other’s dicks and get down to business or what?”
Bronx warily motioned for them to come closer. When they were close enough, he said, “So what’s this about?” he asked.
“I’m going to ask you something point blank and if you lie to me, I’ll find out eventually and when I do, I’ll cut your lying tongue from your mouth, got it?” Jax said.
“Talk dirty to me some more, Jax,” Bronx said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I like it rough.”
Hunter, irritated with their exchange, cut in, saying, “Here’s the deal…did you have anything to do with the hit on William Simms?”
“Who the fuck is William Simms?” Bronx asked, equally irritated.
“He was a King. Now he’s dead. Bullet in the head, execution-style. Like someone was sending a message.”
“Wasn’t my message,” Bronx said. “I can’t say that I know everything my guys do but when it comes to spilling blood, I always know the score.”
“Rumor has it that Simms was shacking up with Juanita Sanchez…that a name you recognize?” Hunter asked.
Bronx’s gaze hardened. “Now, that’s a name I know. What the hell are you talking about? Juanita wasn’t shacking up with no filthy, bitch-ass King.”
“Watch your mouth or this conversation will stop being civilized,” Jax warned.
“And if it were true, would that be enough to put a hit out on Simms?” Hunter pressed. Bronx’s stony expression didn’t change but he bit out a terse, “No” and Jax knew he was telling the truth, which was a shame because he’d really been looking forward to busting those pearly whites out of Bronx’s mouth. He and Hunter exchanged looks, confirming what they feared the most — someone was playing them and it wasn’t Bronx.
“What makes you think Juanita was seeing your boy?” Bronx asked.
“It’s a rumor from a reliable source,” Jax answered with a shrug. “What makes you think she wasn’t?”
“Juanita was loyal.”
“Yeah, well, sounds like her pussy was equal opportunity,” Jax quipped and Bronx’s face flushed.
“Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and wipe you off this planet,” Bronx snarled.
Hunter tugged at Jax’s arm and they walked backward away from Bronx and his posse until they were far enough away to risk turning their back on the sneaky bastards.
They each mounted their Harleys and roared away from the warehouse but Jax’s mind wasn’t focused on the ride. What the hell was going on? The life they lived wasn’t easy or soft but he’d always understood the rules of the street. Now, it seemed everything was out of whack, twisted-up and turned on its head because he couldn’t make sense of the current events. Zoe jumped to mind and something warm and gooey spread across his heart. He was mid-smile and risking bugs in his teeth when he realized what he was doing. What the fuck? No attachments — that was the golden rule that kept them on top. No distractions. Pussy was a dime a dozen. On any given night he and Hunter could have any number of hot, saucy bitches performing all manner of raunchy and debauched acts on them so why did one curvy, sassy-as-hell, gonna-get-herself-killed woman stick in his mind? There was something about her that tugged at him in a way he’d forgotten how to feel — and that was bad. Why she’d have to walk into their lives? One thing was for certain…he was going to go against his better judgment and see her again.
And if his tightening groin were any indication, sooner rather than later.
#
Following the meet-up with Bronx, Hunter remained in a funk that he couldn’t shake. He growled and snapped at everyone in his vicinity until everyone pretty much started avoiding him. Dimas, ever the smart-ass, was the one person who wouldn’t take the hint.
“You on your period?” he quipped, lighting his cigarette with a shit-eating grin. “Because you’re pretty bitchy tonight.”
“Fuck off,” he growled, leaning back in his chair as tossed back a whiskey. The bar was hopping tonight, filled with Kings in good standing. Laughter mixed with the raucous music as everyone got their drank on. By the end of the night, the till would be full and wicks would be dipped. It should’ve been a good night but it wasn’t. Jax was gone for the night — he didn’t say where he was going, but Hunter had a good idea, and maybe that was the reason he was out of sorts — but suffice to say, he wasn’t good company. The knowledge that someone within their own club was pulling tricks on the side didn’t sit well with him at all. The fact that they didn’t have a clue, felt worse. He looked to Dimas. “We got problems,” he said finally and Dimas lost his grin.
“Yeah? What kind of problems?”
Hunter paused, then said, “We have a rat.”
“How so?”
Instead of divulging details Hunter said, “I want you to circulate your best girl out there. See if she can get some useful pillow talk out of someone.”
“I can’t set my girl on a mission without some detail of what I’m looking for,” Dimas returned, snagging the whiskey bottle. “Just give me a clue as to what I’m trying to find out for you.” When Hunter just regarded him with a narrowed stare, he chuckled. “Must be pretty bad if you’re looking at me like I’m a suspect, bud. We’ve been through too much for you to question me now. If anyone’s got your back in this place, it’s me and you know it.”
“Do I?” Hunter asked quietly, leaning forward to pin Dimas with a hard stare. “Do I really?”
“Calm the fuck down, cowboy. I’m gonna pretend that I didn’t hear that fucking insult you just threw my way and we’re gonna keep drinking like the buddies we are.” To prove his point, he poured himself and Hunter another shot and downed his quickly. “Listen, I don’t know what’s got you so hot and bothered but it’s bad fucking timing, you know? It took a long-ass time to get Ebony to trust us with a shipment of this size and I ain’t about to let your paranoia screw us all. Whatever the fuck is eating your shorts, stow it, cuz this shit’s about to get real and I ain’t gonna eat a bullet because Ebony caught wind of your whining about rats and shit. Got it? And before you get all twisted up in a knot, you know I’m just saying this to save your ass so shut the fuck up and listen for once, you stubborn ass.”
Hunter pulled the whiskey shot toward him with a deliberate motion, regarding the amber liquid and wondering if Dimas was right. Maybe all this cons
piracy theory shit was messing with his head when he should be concentrating on the details of the shipment coming in two days. He and Dimas went way back and Dimas was right, he needed to focus on what’s important. Whoever whacked Simms could wait. “Shit man,” he said, downing the shot with a dark chuckle. “I need to get fucked up tonight. My head is all sorts of wrong these days.”
Dimas brightened and reached over to clap Hunter on the back with a hearty guffaw. “Now that I can get behind!” He motioned to Rocket, the bartender. “Bring my man another bottle of Jameson, we’re gonna get loose tonight!” And then he leaned in to whisper in Hunter’s ear, saying, “Let me introduce you to the woman of your dreams. She’s my newest…I’d consider it an honor if you break her in first.”
For some reason Zoe flashed in his mind and he hesitated but the fact that he hesitated at all filled him with disquiet. What the hell? Why was he thinking of Zoe when he should be salivating at the idea of fucking some fresh strange? New pussy was usually an instant aphrodisiac for him. He forced a smile. “Yeah? What’s she like?” he asked, stuffing any thought of Zoe far from his head. “Blond, brunette?”
“A red-head, baby,” Dimas answered with a lecherous grin. “And she can suck the chrome from your wheel-well, I can promise you that.”
“You always promise that,” Hunter said, laughing. “Where’d you find her?”
“You don’t care about those fucking details,” Dimas answered with a short smirk. “All you need to know is that her pussy is fresh, clean and ready for business.”
New pussy with strawberry curls, damp and sweet. The very thought made him semi-hard. But lately, dark curls covering a soft mound were what haunted his dreams. Damn it, Zoe. And those curves! His hands itched with the need to grip those hips and drive into that willing, wet heat. Lose the Zoe obsession, he told himself. She wasn’t part of his future and never would be. Maybe if he got drunk enough he’d cease to care what pussy he was driving into — and a redhead would do as well as any other. “Sure,” he agreed with a shrug. “Have her drop by. I’ll take a look.”