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I’ll kill Bianchi, I know it. It’s only a matter of time before he’s a dead man. I may need to go over Detective Quire’s head and handle business the way the 1% MCs do. It’s a last resort, but it’s an option.
My eyes trace over Josephine’s elfin face, serene in her sleep, and my heart starts to skip. She’s perfect in every way. How in the world did I get so lucky to have a woman like her?
I’m about ready to roll Josephine on her back, wake her with kisses, and sink into her again, but my cell buzzes somewhere in the room.
Carefully, I untangle myself from my sleeping beauty and go in search of my phone. I find it on the floor by a heap of my clothes and Josephine’s torn negligee. I see it’s Punk calling.
“Morning, Punk,” I hum quietly, unable to reign in my giddiness.
“Atlas! Oh, thank fuck, you answered. I need you to come and pick me up, quickly.”
I’m instantly panicking. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Has something happened?”
“It’s complicated. Pick me up…and bring clothes.”
“Bring clothes?”
“No time for questions, Prez. This is serious.” Punk rambles off his location. “Use the app to track me in case I have to flee quickly.” He hangs up and I’m left stunned.
I race into the bathroom to take a leak before I throw on my discarded clothes. I walk next door to Punk’s room. Luckily, his suite is unlocked. I go to his dresser and pull out jeans and a shirt—these look nice and new, when did he go shopping for himself?—unsure what all is needed.
Hell, I’m hoping he means his clothes and not clothes for someone else, like a woman.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling up in my SUV to the location he gave me. Cutting the engine, I take in my surroundings. I’m at the far end of a subdivision with a row of backyard fences facing me. I don’t see him or anyone around. I pull out my phone, tracking his location. His phone confirms he’s in the back of the property, but there’s no sign of him. I decide to call him.
I hear the jingle of Punk’s ringtone before I see him—launching over one of the backyard fences.
He’s sprinting full throttle in my direction in his biker boots, leather cut, and nothing else. He’s bare-ass naked, with his dangly bits bouncing all over, racing away from the house where a scantily-clad woman has come out on her deck. She sees Punk and starts to chase after him, growling like a wild animal.
“Start the truck! Start thefuckingtruck,” Punk yells.
Holy shit!I turn the SUV over and throw it into drive. As soon as Punk has the door open, hurling himself inside, I’m hitting the gas.
In the review mirror, the woman in pursuit screams at the top of her lungs and drops to her knees.
I’ve seen a lot of things in my thirty years, but this is something else. “What the hell is going on?”
Punk is in the passenger seat, sweating and panting. “I swear she was trying to kill me.”
“Excuse me?” I’m ready to turn around and make a citizen arrest.
Punk shakes his head, trying to catch his breath.
I’m a bit freaked out. The woman didn’t look entirely stable. “Who the fuck was that?”
Punk gulps. “That was Mora.”
“Mora who?”
“You know, Mora. Mora sex, Punk. Mora oral, Punk. Give it to me, Mora. And I didn’t mean kill in the literal sense, but fuck me to the point she breaks me. I tried to leave forever ago, and she went fullFatal Attraction.
“Took my clothes and hid them—thankfully, I had taken my boots and cut off at the front door last night. My keys and phone were with them. She locked us in her bedroom, talking all wild about us and hearts and flowers. I was afraid I was going to have to restrain her in order to escape. I talked her down and retreated to the bathroom to call you. Fuck, I can’t believe I shagged her last night. The sex was great, amazing even, but she would not let up.”
I bust a gut and throw his clothes at him. “Fuck, bro. You said you wanted to do a trial run, and now you got your answer—the liquid crack works on men too.”
Punk looks over at me, wide-eyed, tugging on his pants. “Are you serious?”
I laugh some more. “Let just say the night I had was similar to yours. My little kitten swiped one of those bottles without you realizing it. I never went to bed. Your call interrupted me dipping into double digits.”
