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KING
Leaving the bakery, I shake my head, mainly because seeing her again did not make me want her any less. I’d hoped my cock would be a little less eager to get inside of her, that maybe I hadn’t remembered her correctly, but I had.
She’s hot as fuck.
She’s got to be at least ten years younger than me, maybe more, and I shouldn’t have the hard-on that I do for her, but the dick wants what the dick wants.
And my dick wants her.
I climb onto my bike, start the engine, and head the fuck out of downtown Pineville. Fuck me, but what a clusterfuck of a mess this downtown area is. It’s all boutiques, a bakery, and restaurants.
There are no more strip clubs and bars. I suppose it’s a good thing unless you’re a man like me. Then it’s just more bullshit.
As I ride toward the clubhouse, I shake thoughts of the cute baker out of my mind and start to think about the other night with Brew. He had me go with him to move his mother out of her house and to the assisted living home.
I snort. The guy acts like he’s a badass, and then he does that. However, we did go and collect some money from someone who owed the club a hell of a lot. Later, after the move, and his mother insisted, we ate pizza and drank beer at her new place. It was a good night, one of the best I’ve had in a while. His mother is hilarious, something I never had,
While I head back to the clubhouse, my phone rings in my pocket, so I pull over to answer. As if I willed the call, it’s Brew.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“We got problems,” he mutters.
When he doesn’t say anything else immediately, I decide to ask, “And those are?”
He lets out a heavy sigh, then clears his throat. “Those are the fact that the fuck we collected money from is dead.”
“What the fuck?” I hiss.
“Atomic wants a meeting right fucking now.”
Ending the call, I don’t ask him why. I already know it’s because this asshole we collected owed funds from is now fucking dead. Goddammit, our fingerprints and shit are all over that house of his. I’m surprised the police haven’t already hooked my ass up and taken me in.
I ride as fast as possible. I cannot believe this shit has happened. Of course, it fucking has, too. Because this week would not be complete without some kind of goddamn emergency.
It doesn’t take me long to arrive and even less time to walk into the conference room where we hold church. Sinking down in my chair, I try not to make eye contact with anyone, although I can feel all eyes on me.
Atomic clears his throat, slamming his gavel down once before he calls the meeting to order. We all snap our lips together and wait for what is coming.
“So it seems that last week’s collections did not go as planned,” he announces. Sucking in a breath, I hold it for a moment and wait to hear what he has to say. Atomic jerks his chin. “Police don’t think it has anything to do with us.”
“What happens now?” I ask.
He dips his chin, his gaze sliding across the room and landing on mine, holding it as he continues to speak.
“We have to remember that dead clients do not pay,” he says.
“They don’t,” I agree. “Which is why we didn’t kill him.”
“He was alive without a scratch on him when we left him,” Brew adds.
I’m not sure why Atomic thinks we did anything to this man. No way in fuck would we mess with or murder the hands that feed us. And as much as I wanted to beat the fuck out of him because he was a dumbass, I know my limitations and I have control over myself.
“How much did he owe us?” Atomic asks.
I could give an estimation, which is twenty grand, but I don’t know if that’s the exact number or not. I’m not usually someone who talks out of my ass and just throws shit out there. All I know is what Brew said when he asked me to help. And that was ballpark, twenty grand.
“Well, tell us exactly what the fuck he owed and what happened,” Piston grinds out.
