Page 12 of Towles

“I’m not going to let you kill Cinder, Trixie.”

“Are you going to let me suck your dick?”

Watcher leaned forward, and I opened my mouth, giving him the best blow-job of his life, watching him drop to the floor when I finished. Before I could swallow, he drew me in for a kiss. We shared that kiss for a long time. I’d learned two things being in that room with Watcher. He was serious about not letting me kill Cinder. He also didn’t think I was capable of keeping up with his chaotic, erotic, and neurotic lifestyle.

I could do all these things, and I was sure as fuck going to prove it.

5

Towles

Idon’t think anyone believes in love at first sight. Although, that’s what I thought before she started trying to figure me out. Then it turned to flat-out lust. Older woman and me? Why not? Older women had a ton more experience than younger women. I didn’t doubt that April knew her way around the bedroom and had probably been fucked a hundred different ways to Sunday. Nothing wrong with making that two hundred ways to Sunday.

She had that look. Like she already had a man who knew what he was doing. The guy probably worked in Fayetteville as some top-dog lawyer. Gave her diamonds and a nice car. Dressed her in expensive clothes and hot lingerie. Women like her, especially the older ones who had everything, weren’t interested in a man like me. I was an acquired taste.

I imagined the closest she’d been to a dead man was at a funeral, not in a back alley after I beat the shit out of him for disrespecting the club in some way. I felt bad for walking out on her—she was just doing her job. But women like her—people like her—didn’t understand the chaotic world I lived in. That’s why we were called the Brothers of Chaos. We stayed in a constant state of disarray. That wasn’t for her.

I pulled into the bank’s parking lot and climbed off my bike. I was sure she hated chrome monsters, opting for the spoiling comfort of leather in a Mercedes. She wouldn’t understand the thrill of freedom. She needed a nice neat box to live in where she ate salads and drank vegetable smoothies while sitting on a back patio looking out over a pool.

I walked into the bank. The men moved aside, and the women gawked and whispered to one another. A security camera behind the counter turned. I flipped the bird to the security guard sitting at the computer in the back. Brothers of Chaos didn’t rob banks or poor folks. We fucked up people who did.

“How can I help you?” the young woman behind the counter asked. I knew her from somewhere. I knew a lot of the single women in Pine Bluff from somewhere.

“Two hundred dollars from my checking account,” I told the cute blonde behind the glass. Her blue eyes twinkled beneath the lights overhead. Then I remembered her. I thought about the rose she had on her left hip, the one I kissed no less than two weeks ago. She liked the kinky shit. She liked to have her ass smacked, and nipples squeezed until they were juicy.

“I need your number,” she said, not referring to my account number.

“We talked about that, baby. I don’t give out my number.” Never. Give up your number, and the damn phone never stops ringing. If I wanted a booty call, I’d make the call from a burner.

“I had to try,” she said shyly, eyes almost making me change my mind. Who wasn’t a sucker for a soft voice and beautiful, fuck me eyes?

She smiled and typed my name into the computer. The club’s address was listed as my primary. That’s another thing I never gave out—my home address. Fucking pussy would be waiting on the porch when I got home.

“I need to make a deposit,” I heard a familiar voice say. I glanced to my left and leaned against the counter. She looked fucking gorgeous. She wore a short skirt and a sleeveless blouse. No ink. “Twenties will be fine.”

She seemed smaller than she had in her office. Maybe the degrees on the wall and the awards on the shelves made her seem more important—bigger than life. She pushed her hair back over her ear. Fucking gorgeous.

I checked out her ass, and when I looked back at her face, she had her eyes trained on me. She glanced down at her own ass and smiled. Busted.

“Ethan,” the cutie behind the counter said, and I turned. She counted out two hundred in twenties, and I scooped it up.

“Thanks, Cindy,” I said.

“I’m free this weekend. Sure you don’t want to give me your number?” Cindy batted her eyes, knowing they were weapons.

“Write your number down for me,” I said. She did and slid it over. I stuffed the number in my pocket and winked at the girl.

I walked toward April and noticed the color drain from her face—not the reaction I’d hoped for.

“I should apologize for the way I left your office earlier,” I said. “I have a lot of shit going on.”

“Mr. Towles,” she said, keeping our relationship professional. She scooped up a handful of money and stuffed it into her purse as if she were expecting me to rob her.

“You’ve got the wrong idea about me, Mrs. Summers. Not every man who does something out of anger has anger issues or needs to be fixed.” I leveled my eyes on hers. She tried to turn away but couldn’t. “And I would be more likely to save you from a thief than steal your money.”

“Not every woman needs to be rescued.” She smiled weakly, her lie falling flat on the floor.

“And few men are capable of rescuing a woman,” I said confidently. “Those of us who are we do our best.”

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