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TWO WEEKS AGO
“Where’s the other half of the dynamic duo?” Tiny spots of saliva eject from Roger Jukes's mouth when he laughs. I hardly recognize the man, it’s been thirteen years since I last saw him, and his sense of humor sure hasn’t improved. Roger was Screw's attorney back in the day when he was sitting on our stepfather's murder charge. And it’s a good job for my brother that the man’s better at building a case than he is at making jokes. Long and short of it is, he got Screwy off the hook, and I should have known that me telling him I owed him for it would come bite me on the ass someday.
“Screw gets touchy ‘bout this kinda shit.” The smile slides right off Roger’s face when I remind him why he’s here.
“Everything you need to know is in there.” He clears his throat and slides a brown envelope across the table, and when I stare at him expectantly, he slides across another, much thicker one. I peek inside it and flick my fingers through the huge wad of cash.
I owe the fucker a favor, not a freebie.
“Any requests on how it’s done?” Since he’s paying, he can expect the full service.
“Just make sure he suffers. His legal team managed to get some public order because of who he is, so his inmates won’t know that the girl was only fourteen,” Jukes says gravely before downing his drink.
“Our guy on the inside will assure his dirty little secret gets out before the piece of shit gets what’s coming to him.” I go to tuck the envelope inside my cut before I remember I’m not wearing the damn thing. Roger Jukes is well-respected around these parts. He didn’t want to be seen having any association with the club. That doesn’t stop him paying us a shit ton of money to make sure a man he trusted gets more than a few years in the homeboy hotel for fiddling with his niece.
Downing the last of my whiskey, I stand up and tuck the envelope into the back pocket of my jeans. “One for the road?” I gesture my head to the bar.
“No, I should be getting back,” Rodge declines. “Keep me updated, though.” Standing up, he goes to shake my hand, then thinks better of it. He’s just done a whole different kind of business than what he’s used to shaking on. Lowering his head, he offers me a cowardly smile before heading for the door, checking nervously for anyone paying attention before he leaves.
I snort a laugh to myself and make my way over to the bar, slamming my empty glass onto the sticky stained wood.
“One more of the same, darlin’.” I wink at the barmaid. The pretty little thing hasn’t taken her lustful eyes off me since I arrived. She’s hot, but nothing that I couldn’t score back at the club.
There’s something familiar about her, though. The club often uses this bar and the motel opposite as a stop-off. Maybe she’s already been on the receiving end of a Squealer smash.
The smile she gives me over her shoulder as she reaches up to the optics is confirmation… I’ve definitely seen that look before, and judging from the way she’s looking at me now, she’s looking to get herself a Squealer sequel.
“A vodka neat when you're ready.” The female voice that comes from my left draws my attention. It sounds gravelly, yet somehow smooth, a complete contradiction of itself.
My drink hits the bar but my eyes remain fixed on the woman who the voice belongs to.
She’s a stunner for sure, brown-colored hair that feathers around an olive-skinned face, and her side profile highlights how dainty her features are. The slope of her nose is perfectly in proportion with her high cheekbones.
Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever checked out a bitch’s nose before. When she turns her head, cat-like green eyes lock with mine as she smiles, and the girl doesn’t know it yet, but she’s just landed herself in hot water.
Her gaze flicks over me suspiciously, and I feel the judging.
I don’t even try to stop myself from laughing as I hit her back with the exact same look. Now, this right here ain’t the kind of honey you find back at the club, and I’m about to dip in my paw and get sticky.
Pulling my head back, I examine the cherry-shaped ass those tight jeans are covering, and the black knee-length boots she’s wearing over the top of them are practically screaming fuck me.
This woman gives off something a little different than what I’m used to, I can’t figure out what it is yet, but whatever it is, I’ve already decided I want fuckin’ in.
“I’ll get that.” I slide a ten-dollar bill across to the barmaid who's leaning forward too far on the bar in front of me. She wants my attention, and she’s fucking failing ‘cause right now, my cock is ruling my line of vision, and he’s liking what he’s fuckin’ seeing.
Eventually, she gives up eying the brunette to check she’s cool with my offer, and the hot-assed chick shrugs like she ain’t fussed either way.
A freshly poured vodka gets placed in front of her, and without taking her eyes off mine, she lifts it up to toast me before throwing her head back and pouring it down her neck. My cock jolts to life as I watch the liquid travel down her throat, and she slams the empty glass on the bar with a subtle but unmistakable hiss. The back of her hand wipes across her rose-tainted lips, and her eyes drop down to my crotch like she can sense the reaction she’s having.
“Thanks.” There's that voice again. The same voice I’m already determined to hear screaming out my fuckin’ name.
“Welcome,” I manage, lifting my own drink up to my lips, tipping it up to her before I knock it back.
“Same again. And whatever he’s having,” her head tips in my direction as she speaks to the woman serving.
“That ain’t necessary,” I shake my head. I ain’t used to being in the company of women who offer to buy drinks. Women who hang around the club ain’t exactly the independent type.
“I know.” She lifts one side of her mouth into a smirk, taking her time to look down her nose and study me there… again.
