AllFreeNovel
Share Us
MUSTANG
“What the hell did you do now?” Cy says when he sees me helping a still-dazed Jenson through the office door.
“None of your business,” I growl.
I’ve made a few bad decisions in my life, some of them after patching into the club, but that was back when I was practically a kid. I haven’t done anything this stupid in a long time. Something about Jenson has me out of control. Ever since yesterday, I’ve been off-kilter, and I fucking hate it. And I hate him for making me this way.
“It is my business when you’re hitting customers.” Cy nods at Tigger. “Go grab an ice pack.”
Jenson leans forward, an angry bruise already forming on his cheek. He prods at it and winces. “I’m fine. Don’t bother.”
“You need ice,” I say, pointing at Tigger, who pivots as we volley back and forth. Deciding he’d rather go against Jenson than Cy and me, he disappears into the back, where there’s a small employee lounge, complete with a fridge and automatic ice maker.
“I think it’s better if I just go.” Jenson stands on wobbly legs.
“Not until you can stand up straight.” I give him a small shove in the chest, sending him back onto the couch.
“For fuck’s sake, Mustang.” Cy’s face contorts into an angry snarl. “Stop hitting the guy.”
“That was a shove, and trust me, he deserves it,” I say.
“I kind of do,” Jenson admits.
With a huff, Cy storms back to the door to the shop. But not before stopping to drill into me. “Make this right. If I see a lawsuit cross my desk, you’ll be looking for employment elsewhere and be on bathroom duty for a year. And you know my wife makes me eat a high-fiber diet.”
My lip curls in disgust. Charlotte, his wife, is half his age and, for whatever reason, is obsessed with the guy and does whatever she can to keep him healthy. It’s sweet and all, but man, the stench that lingers after his morning constitution. . . no, thank you.
Cy slams the door behind him, leaving me alone with my enemy. My fists still burn for more retribution, but Cy is right; Jenson has enough money to sue the pants off the Sons, and that can’t happen.
“Look, I’m sorry for hitting you,” I say.
Jenson rests his head on the back of the sofa, blinking his swollen eye. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have spoken that way about your mom.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
At the same time Tigger walks in with the ice, a woman walks in to drop her car off. She looks scandalized as she watches Tigger hand off the ice to the wounded Jenson. We work hard to gain customers since most people don’t want to associate with the club, so having a man on the sofa who obviously just got punched isn’t good for business.
“Let’s go in the back and finish this discussion,” I say.
“Fine.” Jenson makes a pained sound as he stands and follows me through the shop and down the gravel path that leads to the Sons’ property. “Where are we going?”
“My place.”
“You live here?”
“Yeah.” I don’t expand. He’ll see soon enough.
Behind the clubhouse sits a compound of tiny cabins for the ranking members. They’re not much, but they’re home to most of us. Prez doesn’t live in his since taking on an ol’ lady. A few of the guys cycle between staying with their cunt of the month and here, but the rest of us live here full-time.
I get a little antsy as we near my place. I won’t even let my fuck buddies come here, so why am I allowing my childhood bully inside? It’s a sacred space where I can decompress and lock out the world. Being part of the MC is just as bad as it is good, and that bad weighs on me heavily. My soul was lost to the devil a long time ago, and sometimes the only thing that keeps me sane is being in my own space.
I type the code into the lock, and it disengages with a snick before I open the door and motion for him to go in. With the ice covering one eye, his balance is off, and he trips over the threshold. I grab his elbow as he reaches out, latching onto my hand with his free one. It’s the first time we’ve touched without malice, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I like it. His long fingers are soft and warm, making me remember how they felt around my cock.
“Shit, man. Cy would have my ass if you broke a leg, too,” I say, steadying him.
“Sorry.” He doesn’t release my hand right away, not even after I’ve dropped his elbow. Maybe he likes the way it feels as much as I do. But eventually, it gets awkward, and he lets go with a chuckle.
Following him inside, I try to remember if I put my dirty clothes in the hamper yesterday or left them on the ground. I’m not a messy person, but I’m sure as shit not a clean one either.
