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Zeke looks at me as he stirs the pot on the stove. “Yeah, well, he’s a good mechanic, so he gets a pass.”
Opening the drawer where I found the utensils, I dip a spoon in the pot and taste it. Flavors I haven’t had in years burst on my tongue and I groan. There are lots of things I missed since being locked up—decent cooking has definitely been one of them.
Tossing the spoon in the sink, I turn around to look at him. “How do you know he’s good?”
“Because it took him five minutes to diagnose what was up with dad’s bike. When I found a mechanic that specializes in that model of old school choppers, he said most wouldn’t have known what was wrong with it without gutting the thing. Your … ‘companion’,” he says with air quotes, “is good. He knows his shit.”
I take that and put it in my brain vault for later use. I’m not sure why.
“Anyway,” my best friend says, turning to me with a grin. “Those panties? What’s that about?”
Motioning to the couch, he turns the stove’s burner down and has a seat with me. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and think about the gentle way Finn brushed it. His humming of a song I can’t quite place is still stuck in my head. A song from when I was kid when I wasn’t so hard and jaded.
Looking at my friend, I say, “When I did his laundry this morning, I found them mixed in the sheets. A nice pair, some I saw on a few of the hangarounds. You know the kind that has just a bit of their ass cheeks showing, but cover everything else?”
Zeke throws his hands behind his head. “Those are my favorite kind. And your captive can definitely fill them out. I caught a look at Huck’s ass and damn. He’s thick.”
Grinning, I know he’s right. It’s not like I’ve spent a lot of time figuring out if a man has a nice ass, but Finn is shapely. Soft skin and a nice ass.
I shouldn’t think men are good looking at all though, right? I can say men are objectively good looking. Like Zeke is a gorgeous fucking human being with his wide eyes, broad nose, and soft looking lips.
Huh, maybe it’s not just objectively. I never would have thought that hard on Zeke’s individual features like that before I met Finn.
“He's something," I mutter, not giving anything away.
With a wide grin that show off his even teeth with that almost adorable gap, he asks, “You’re thinking about fucking him?”
Zeke and I have no secrets. We’ve been best friends since I was a kid, his father basically adopting me when my own father could give a fuck less about me. He knows more about me than I know about myself. He and his father are the reason I joined the Devil’s Mayhem.
When I don’t answer, he laughs. “Oh man. You so would," he almost shouts, teasing me. "I would jump at the chance at a piece of Huck.”
I smile at him. "Maybe he would too." I don't know what Finn is into, but me and Zeke have shared hangarounds before. Sharing Finn would be fun. It's only a thought, though. No way would he go for it. Not after I shut him down at the clubhouse.
Interrupting my thoughts, Zeke says, "If he agrees, I'm down." His grin is wide and his eyes blaze.
I grin back, shaking my head. “Whatever. Maybe we can work something out if I can even get him to myself. He’s afraid of me.”
“Of course, he is. You kidnapped him, you weirdo.” I give him a look he ignores. “Try being nice to him. Reassure him that you’ll let him go.”
“I have. I told him. I haven’t hurt him too bad yet.”
Zeke stares at me for a long time, shaking his head before he says, “Try getting to know him.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “There is no way anyone will believe you’re an enforcer for a bad-ass MC.”
He chuckles. “They start to believe it when my foot is up their ass or my Glock is in their mouth. Now back to what I was saying. He’s helping you, even if he doesn’t want to. No reason he has to be all sad and cooped up and shit. And … you’ll be leaving in a few weeks. Why not get your dick wet in the meantime?”
I sit up. “Leaving? You guys figured something out?”
He nods. “Yeah, Prez has. He said he’ll have to talk to some of his people in Cuba, but he’s working something out. Shane is helping, making sure paperwork is legal or whatever the fuck he does. He said a guy he helped out of a sticky situation can help him out with a private jet. Prez will hook you up with a house in an area he knows well. It’s not cheap, but the clubhouse has been doing well over the past seven years with all the nightclubs we bought and made turn a profit. Compounded with the drug sales, so we can afford it. You know Prez appreciates you keeping your mouth shut about all the bodies you’ve left over the years. He knew you would, but he’d like to show his appreciation.”
Zeke inclines his head to his backpack and I reach inside, pulling out a folder. I open it, looking at the nice little Mediterranean style house with three bedrooms and two bathrooms, a nice yard and surrounded by a grove of trees. It’s already furnished, so that will be a load off. The best thing about it is Cuba probably won’t extradite me if the US asked. We’ve always tried to have exit strategies when needed and Cuba has always been one of them. Doesn’t hurt that our Prez is a Cuban native that knows important and powerful people there.
A genuine smile crosses my lips. “This works. How long ‘til I’m a ghost?”
“Three weeks, tops. Shane says he has to get some shit arranged, but you’ll be covered here. Tell your date to hold tight for three weeks, then he’ll be back in West Bumfuck where he came from.”
“Reverdale,” I say distractedly as I flip through the other papers in the folder, checking out the maps of the region, the local people, their rich culture, and their food. “You think I’ll be able to fit in? My lily-white ass among all these Cuban people?”
