Page 14 of Biker's Property
He keeps telling me not to worry, but getting more deeply involved with gangster bikers isn’t making me feel better. I just wanted to escape to Denver and now, I barely know where I am and I don’t know where this man is taking me. It doesn’t make sense to ask. I don’t have any more money or more supplies.
Isit crazy that it’s still so much better than being under my husband’s thumb?
Ex-husband.
I needto think of him as my ex-husband.
Steel reachesinto his jacket and pulls out one of those little bottles of vodka. He tosses it onto my lap.
“Open that up for me, sassafras. Throw it out the window and I’ll drive us straight off the road.”
He says that crazy shit calm as ever, but I know he means it this time. Unfortunately, I’ll only get away with throwing his liquor out the window once, so I’ll need to find another way to stop him from drinking before I get behind the wheel with him. Just my luck to end up with a drunk. I crack open the mini bottle of vodka.
Steel pours it down his throat and steps on the accelerator, pushing the truck to 90 mph.
How the helldid my escape plan go so wrong?
Chapter Eight
STEEL
Joslin passes out from exhaustion or terror before we get to theRebel Roadhouse.Don Blackwood bought the place for Jairus, who ran the place officially, leaving most of the work to his wife – who doesn’t know he’s dead. I’m not breaking the news tonight, which will come back to bite me in the ass later, I’m sure. But all I want is a room and a place to keep Joslin out of trouble until I figure out what the hell to do with her.
She believes she killed a man, but I don’t know if she did, honestly. I can’t imagine a woman that small doing something like that and considering the way she gets all tense when I use prison-talk, she acts like a church girl. Hm. A church girl who killed her ex-husband out in the desert. With lips that make me want to suck on them.
Don’t blame me for the thought. Blame the vodka. Or the Coors. I look over at her sleeping as I put the truck in park and just… stare for a few minutes. If I didn’t have liquor in my system, I might have had a smidgeon of self-awareness about how creepy I looked, but the alcohol made me uniquely fixated on Joslin’s face.
I don’t really know what a Filipina is if I’m honest, but that must be some type of Asian because of her eyes. Her skin is dark though, so she must be black with skin that dark. My dick gets hard when I look at her for too long. Don’t know if that will last considering how much liquor I have in my system.
But it feels good to look at a woman. Prison was rough. I did embarrassing shit to survive. Nothing gay… but definitely embarrassing. I scuffle around and make some noise, hoping to wake Joslin, but she lets out a little snore instead. The sound makes her seem more innocent. Gets my dick even harder.
There is something wrong with me. For sure. I touch her thigh to wake her up. Joslin jerks awake and her eyes get as wide as they can — which isn’t very wide. They’re still pretty and brown. I like their shape. It’s different.
She scrambles against the truck door with momentary panic on her face. I give her a few seconds to adjust to her surroundings. The humidity fogs up the truck already. I hate the Southwest. Can’t wait to get finished with club business, leave this shit for my brother and Southpaw to sort out before I get back to handling my business.
I lost a lot of money and most importantly time behind bars. I intend on making up for it. Joslin’s hair puffs around her head from the humidity. The truck is warm and I can smell her. Not in a bad way. I’m wondering how a woman can spend all day dying in the desert and still smell so sweet.
“We’re at the motel.”
“We need separate rooms,” she says immediately.
I laugh.“Okay, Donald Trump. You got money for two rooms?”
“I’ll sleepin the bathtub then,” she says, reaching for the truck door, already so eager to escape when I would much rather drag her into the backseat and suck on her lips than get out of this truck and face the shit coming our way.
I hop out of the truck to catch up with her. Jairus’ sister-in-law is the one working the counter tonight and I don’t want her asking Joslin any questions. The fewer people that know about Joslin’s existence, the better. I catch up with Joslin just before she reaches the motel door.
“You keep running off, an eagle might swoop down and fly off with your ass.”
“I’m cold and tired,” she says. Her tone doesn’t sound like she’s complaining, despite her words. She’s speaking matter of fact and considering she was dressed for the desert heat, I understand why she’s cold. I take my leather jacket off and throw it over her shoulders.
“Here, woman. Don’t get it dirty.”
She shoots me a glare, which just makes me smile harder because she’s giving me any attention at all. I throw open the door to the Rebel Roadhouse and prepare myself to deal with the redneck woman Jairus has running the place.
I can smell cigarettes once we enter, so the woman behind the counter has obviously been smoking inside. Joslin instantly coughs at the scent of smoke, obviously not used to being around the pungent scent. She sidles up close to me and I don’t have to tell her to be quiet, which I like.
The woman leaning over the counter isn’t who I expect. My heart sinks into my ass. Oske? No. The woman looks up at me, and she isn’t Oske. Black hair and blue eyes, so she can’t be that crazy ass Indian that has Shaw protection no matter what crazy bullshit she gets involved with. I must be drunk as fuck to mistake a white woman for an Indian woman.