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We’ll get to the bottom of this.
Chapter Thirteen
Leather
Don’t get me wrong, he’s a fucking douche bag, but he’s a hot douche bag. I can’t tell you what rubs me the wrong way about him, it’s just this overwhelming sense of something. Maybe it's his vibe, or the way he holds himself. I don’t fucking know, but it’s giving me hives just thinking about him.
I can admit that I’m not used to change. It’s something I know I don’t like, that I have never liked. That’s one of the main reasons why I’m still an executioner. I don’t have to relearn anything or do anything new, not needing to be in charge of more than a few people at a time. I know my systems, I know my shit, and I can hunt men better than the fucking FBI. It’s easy work for me, a cake walk. I get in, do my job, and get out.
Plus, the connections I have in the underworld? Fucking spicy. They know me as Leather, and they also know me as Leather.
Sitting down in the church room, my leather shorts immediately stick to the plastic chair. Groaning, I adjust myself a bit to get comfortable. The shriek of the leather material sticking to the metal seat makes my whole body ache.
“How have you been since the incident?” Tornado asks me, sitting down in Knuckles’ normal spot. I can feel my left eye twitching, and my heart pounds heavily in its barricade of bones. Swallowing the heavy lump in my throat, I glance over at him and take in his sharp features. His energy is off, almost tentative as he kicks back next to me.
He’s absolutely the tallest guy in the club, probably pushing six-five or so. His jaw could cut glass with the little five o’clock shadow he’s sporting. Not only that, but his eyes are a steel electric blue, one that I have never seen before. I can appreciate a good looking man, but deep in my gut, something just isn’t right.
“Uhm,” I choke, clearing my throat a few times to keep from drooling over this man. I’m pretty sure he caught me fucking staring. I don’t know what it is, but I know I could get lost in those damn eyes. I try clearing my throat again.
“Uhm?” He questions, a gentle smirk pulling at his lips. My stomach rolls. My body is screaming at me to jump his bones, but my head is demanding I run the other way.
“I have been good,” I mumble, popping my knuckles. “I don’t even know why it happened.” Laughing in self-deprecation, I think back to a couple weeks ago. I can’t believe I fucking passed out.
“Yeah, you hit your head pretty hard,” he grunts, picking at a few stray strings on his jean cut. “You’re feeling better? No lingering issues?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Nodding, he pats my bare knee before standing. I’m left gaping at the spot where he touched, his skin burning against mine in the most delicious way.
I have never been horny from a simple touch, but I’m ready to grab his hand and shove it down my shorts. Maybe even have him…
My face scrunches in disgust. What the fuck am I thinking? Do I want him to finger fuck me? Big yes. Will I follow through with it? Big maybe. Fucking hell, I need to get a grip. I have been horny since the incident. I haven’t had the lady balls to convince Charles I’m okay for another scene. In another world, I would have taken what I wanted almost immediately. I would have swatted his ass until it was a solid shade of red for questioning me. Then I would have mounted him and given him the ride of his life.
Unfortunately, I’m a chicken shit in this world.
“Listen up,” Prez calls, walking into church. “Tiny has us by the cock right now. We’re waiting on the go ahead. Once we get the signal, we’ll prep to ride.” He plops down on his chair, slamming a couple files onto the table.
“We’ve been working with ops to get through the border,” Tornado adds, pulling a file toward him from the stack.
“Why can’t we take water ways?” I ask, perching myself at the edge of the seat.
“They tend to be heavily monitored as well. The ports have better machines to scan through shit, so we avoid them at all costs,” Tornado quips back, not looking up from the papers. If anything, I feel utterly dismissed.
“Since when?” I scoff, shaking my head with frustration. “The borders are as packed as it can get.”
“I don’t fucking know, Leather. How about you let me do my job and you do yours,” he snaps, finally leveling me. Quirking a brow, I can feel the challenge rise up.
“What’s the plan? I bet I can guess it.” Smirking, I kick my boots on the table.
“Be careful,” Knuckles suggests quietly, his elbow meeting my ribs. Shooing his hand away, I contemplate if it’s worth it. There’s plenty of other battles to fight about this, but is it actually worth my time?
It is.
“You plan on having a slew of us ride ahead, get popped by the border patrol, right?” I start, my foot shaking with excitement. Prez's head snaps up, eyes narrowing on me in warning. Meeting his thunderous gaze, I continue. “Then you’re gonna drive some sort of hauler rig a few cars behind us while they work on us.”
“That’s enough,” Prez snaps, his fist slamming on the table. “You know what you’re doing, so cut it out. We can figure the logistics out later.” I hold the scoff back, pulling my feet off the table and sitting up.
They are telling me how to do my job. I trained for this shit. Blood, sweat, and tears were shed for me to be able to rank up. Yet, here we are. Back at square fucking one because Prez thinks Tornado can help us. I want to talk, throw some shade that they are fucking stupid. But, I don’t. I decide now isn’t the time, and I hold it all back. If they want to be idiots, they can.
Neither point of entry will be free of challenges. Dragging my pointer and thumb across my lips, I pretend to zip them and wave a dismissive hand while figuratively throwing away the key. Knuckles lets out an appreciative exhale as I digress, and I shoot daggers straight at him. Nonetheless, he grins right back at me.
