Page 74 of Biker's Property
“There’s a Flying J on the way to my mama’s,” he says. “Only a couple miles. Owned by the family of one of the club members.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
STEEL
The young uninitiated Shaw behind the counter of the Flying J stares slack-jawed at Joslin when we walk in. I know she’s a fucking beauty, but I don’t appreciate his eyes lingering on her too long. One glare and he looks away from both of us until I approach the counter with Joslin standing by my side.
I gesture back to the gas station merchandise lining the wall.
“Get some clothes, baby,” I tell Joslin, smacking her ass possessively, incapable of helping myself in the presence of this nineteen or twenty year old twerp who makes a foolish effort to steal another glance at Joslin. I snap my fingers in front of him.
“Hey, asshole. Pay attention.”
“My name is Thorne Shaw,” he says proudly. He looks like a member of the Shaw family with all their typical traits. Dark hair. An Ace of Spades tattooed on his forearm. I don’t remember seeing him at the last club meeting and his cut doesn’t have a patch on it with a club name. At best, he’s a recruit.
“Do I look like I give a fuck?”
“I’ve known you since I was seven.”
“You must be mistaking me for my brother,” I say, but I don’t really want to talk about my brother, so I don’t indulge what will surely be a long drawn out conversation as this man-child slowly pieces together the fact that we’re twins. “My wife is about to get some clothes. Key to the bathroom. Now.”
“We don’t let people use the bathroom together,” he says, glaring at me. “My sister worked at the Flying J on the old Route 66 highway near Joplin. She said bikers were always coming in and?—
“Hey. Enough with the long story. Give me the keys if you want to keep your job here. I’m on Southpaw’s business.”
“I don’t answer to Wyatt.”
“Who the fuck do you answer to then?” I say, fighting the urge to punch this little twerp in the goddamn face.
“Ethan.”
Ethan is Wyatt Shaw’s older brother – not the club president for several reasons, but he’s also the wrong answer to my fucking question.
“And what exactly is the fucking difference between Wyatt and Ethan?”
The kid staresback at me with the dumbest fucking expression on his face. Before I can escalate the situation, Joslin appears at my side with a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt.
“Got what you need?”
“Yes,” she says, casting a nervous glance at the expression on Thorne’s face. His ass had better not get me in trouble with the old lady. Half a glare in Thorne’s direction causes him to set his face straight.
“I can give you an employee discount,” he offers Joslin, who smiles with appreciation at the broken tension.
“Get me the bathroom key,” I demand after Joslin thanks Thorne for checking her out. He hands me the bathroom key with his other hand, not bothering to look at me.
“Go have yourself a smoke,” I grunt after I slam a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “Joslin needs her space to change.”
Joslin glares at me when the kid wanders off, muttering to himself as he pulls a pack of American Spirits out of his back pocket and exits out the gas station’s back entrance.
“What did you say to him?” She says. “He looks very irritated.”
“I asked him for some privacy. You don’t want assholes like him anywhere near you while you’re vulnerable.”
“It’s not like I’m going to strip down in the middle of the gas station.”
I scan the walls of the gas station for the restroom sign and gesture in the direction with my chin, hoping to distract Joslin from her moral line of investigation. She walks toward the bathroom, but she’s far from distracted.
“He seemed like a nice kid,” she says. “So don’t be an asshole to him when he comes back and don’t scare him.”