“Get what fucking sleep you need, then hit the fucking road!”
Jewell motioned her crew of women to leave, which they did, all with scornful gazes toward him, except for Jet, who finally threw his boot at him, and that throw showed the woman had the arm of a major league baseball player when his hand burned from catching the flying rubber.
Once the door was closed, Hennessy fell back to the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Damn.”
He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, trying to remember the woman he’d turned down. Drinking a fifth of Jim Beam, and half of the Hennessy on top of being sleep-deprived had done him no favors.
Closing bloodshot eyes that hurt like a mother, Hennessy groaned, feeling like his skull was being split in two with an axe. He wanted to get dressed, find Core, and leave, but he had to get some sleep first. It wouldn’t be safe for him or other drivers if he got on the road.
Grabbing a pillow, he smashed it down over his eyes with an arm. When he woke in the morning, he would take Jewell’s advice and hit the road. He didn’t need this fucking drama.
Women were headaches, and he didn’t need tonight as proof of that. Dealing with them was a pain in the ass, which was why he refused to allow them to stay in the club unless they were partying with the brothers. You let one stay a couple of nights, they wanted to fucking move in. No, he and Core were fine without them and would continue to be until hell fucking froze over.
They hadn’t even bothered to turn the light off so he could go back to sleep. Next time he needed a place to crash in Kentucky, he would stay at a hotel. Those bitches were going to see the last of him when he and Core rode out.
Chapter 5
“What do you mean you’re not ready to leave?” Hennessy stared his enforcer down as Core refilled his coffee cup.
“My boots haven’t thawed out, and neither have my balls. I’m not leaving until they do.” Core blew on his coffee as he walked to the empty table to take a chair.
“Then light a fire under them—we’re leaving.” After pouring his coffee, Hennessy followed him to the table.
“What’s the hurry?”
“No hurry. Just ready to go.”
Core studied him over the rim of his cup. “Does it have anything to do with the whole club talking about your lack of … stamina?”
“No,” he denied, then wanted to shove his foot in his mouth when he couldn’t help asking, “How’d you find out? You went to bed before I did.”
“Woke up hungry. I enjoyed my dinner while listening to one woman after another complaining to Viper about your”—Core stared pointedly down at the table that hid Hennessy’s lower body—“inability to score a home run.”
“Bitches.” Hennessy took a drink of his coffee, scalding his tongue.
“They were just taking up for one of their own.”
“She isn’t a Last Rider.”
“Haven’t I taught you a damn thing about women? They’re all sisters when it comes to a man stupid enough to hurt one of them.”
“I was taught that lesson last night.”
“Which one gave you the black eye?”
“I think it was Jet.”
Core laughed. “You might have a problem fucking one of The Last Riders’ women. I don’t. When my balls thaw out, I’m going to show that fine piece that this Road Kingz has the stamina of a bull. Of course I’ll also have to prove it to Jewell, Stori, Ember—”
“They really think I’m a one-hit wonder?”
“Your dick is being talked about more than the snowstorm that’s supposed to hit tonight.”
“Which is another reason we need to leave,” Hennessy stated before taking a more cautious sip of his coffee.
“Which is another reason to stay. I don’t want to try to beat a storm that has ice warnings out in three states on motorcycles.”
“Fuck.”
“That would have been the better option last night, instead of complaining to me now.”
“I was fucking tired.”
“You had to be dead not to get a rise for the woman I met last night.”
“Moon and I drank a whole bottle of Jim Beam and a half of Hennessy. By the time I went upstairs, I was fucking drunk off my ass.”
“You must have drunk most of it because Moon didn’t look any worse for wear when I saw him trying to snuggle up to Arin last night.”
Hennessy clenched his teeth in aggravation. Moon had seemed sober when the women were beating the fuck out of him while he just stood in the doorway last night.
The wheels in his brain that were no longer affected by tiredness and alcohol began questioning Moon’s amiable behavior, despite him throwing Moon off the porch.
Jewell was right; he was stupid. It had been a careless mistake that, if a recruit or one of his men had made, he would have torn his patch off.