Page 74 of Duke

I FINALLY FEEL like I can breathe when I’m covered in the smell of grease and oil, underneath the belly of an old Ford. It’s jacked up—as jacked up as I am, waiting for word if I’m a sick-fuck lusting for my half-sister or if I’ll be set free to win the woman of my dreams back.

My head’s not right.

This situation is too twisted even for a jaded bastard like me. If I could exorcise my feelings for her from my body, I would.

I’ve been sleeping four hours a night. Waking before the birds and running in the dark. Hitting the gym after that and racking more weight in the gym during lifts than a UFC fighter. After a mother-fucking cold-ass shower, I make my way here, to my shop. To the solitude of working on cars and bikes that don’t speak to you in a way that clutters your head. I grab a wrench and get to work.

Wiping the grease from my brow with the back of my hand, I shake my head. I almost fucked that girl, Fiona last night after putting away a half bottle of Whiskey. But she only got me half-hard.

Christ, I’m a mess.

Maybe I should try fucking a truckload of chicks. But the damn thing is, I know it’s her face I’ll see in my head when I come. Hell, I probably roar her name as I spurt on another woman’s belly.

Shit.

I groan, remembering how full and round her tits were. How she tasted. How snug she was when I penetrated her with my finger.

I’m instantly hard. Filling my jeans with my swollen dick.

Flinging the wrench down, I roll away from the truck and stand. Cursing and hissing through my teeth, head bowed I shut my eyes and pray. Pray that this isn’t some sick joke.

The buzz of my phone in the back pocket of my jeans snaps me out of it.

“What?” I bark.

“We got him.”

“Zach?”

“Not yet. We got his hitman. The one who did the old lady.”

“Save him for me. Where you at?”

“The cabin. The one we got Cortez’s girls from. Figured it’s as good a place as any to take care of business.”

“I’m on my way.”

Placing my phone down. I rinse my hands under a steady stream of cold water. Carefully, putting all my tools back in place, I tap the Ford. “I’ll be back baby.”

Whistling now, I walk to my back office and pull my leather on with pride. My new President patch sewn over my old man’s.

I’m gonna avenge her death for Shanna. Sister or lover… I love her. I’d kill for her. I’d die for her. If it turns out we are blood—I’ve been turning over what to do in my mind. I would need distance for sure. Distance and time to forget how she stirs my dick.

Canada or Mexico. I’m not sure yet, but I need to get the fuck out of here if it’s true.

Squinting as my eyes adjust to the dark. I find him sitting in a puddle of his own piss.

“You the one?” My words low and lethal.

His answer is a wail, too pitiful for any man to make.

I pivot to Will, “You sure this pansy-ass fuck did it? He couldn’t fuck a virgin on prom night.”

He nods, “It’s him. Confessed when his balls were in the vice.”

“He made me do it. Said he’d take my girl.” The bastard wails.

“I get that. I’d do anything for my girl… including killing the bastard that murdered her mother.”