Page 22 of Scotch: Unraveled

I look to Hannah. “It appears according to this one”—I use my thumb to point at Rory—“a lot of people around here require head-from-ass extraction surgery.” Hannah laughs.

“Before we go,” I continue, “I needed you to know that we’re getting my bed because Rory is going out of town and needs me to look after the girls. His couch is shit, so we’re bringing my bed here. We’re not together or—”

“Yeah, we are,” he says over me, not letting me finish my sentence.

Oh, boy, she mouths as she tries to suppress a smile.

Oh, boyis right. I think I need another drink—stat.

7.

Rory

We finally roll up on the property of the Devil’s Outcasts, a club we’ve been helping to get clean from the drugs and guns that nearly brought an end to the Lords some years back. They took over an abandoned town. Their clubhouse used to be a strip mall. A fucking strip mall. I hate this hellfire Texas heat. Bullshite, it’s not the heat but the humidity. When it hits this hot, it’s the fucking heat.

My hair is plastered to my head because once the babes came into my life, I forced myself to start wearing a helmet, and I’ve got a goddam sweat-soaked T-shirt on. Someone should’ve warned me not to wear black.

Since the Outcasts legitimately own the whole town, there’s not even a fence surrounding the property. Their president, Mad Man, steps out into the sun once we shut down our bikes. He’s a giant motherfucker. Beard hanging down to his gut, equally as long ponytail hanging down the back. I’d hate to meet him in a dark alley. I’m not small, but he could end me without breaking a sweat, which in this heat, says something.

The man puts out a calloused hand to me. “Scotch, good to see you, man.” I’m lead on this, so out of respect, he directs all initial communications to me.

“Good to see ya, too,”I answer.“Ya know Blaze and Hero?” I point to the brothers with me.

Mad Man holds his hand out to shake each of theirs.

“What we got going on?” I get to the point, but Mad Man shakes his head.

“Business tomorrow. We got a welcome party waiting inside for you.”

Blaze and Hero ain’t got women back home and their smiles show how eager they are to join the festivities. Me? I’ll have to respectfully decline. Frankie might not admit she’s mine yet, but she’s mine and I won’t risk losing her again by partaking in the pieces here. Even on the road. Even if she never found out, I’d know. And that’s one line I’d never cross. Ya got a good woman, ya don’t stick yar dick in other pussy.

“Much obliged,” I tell him. “These boys”—I nod in the direction of my brothers—“they’ll partake in whatever ya got on offer, but don’t take offense if I only kick back with a cold one and conversation.”

“Got you a woman back home?” he asks.

I can’t help the smile. “That I do.”

“What’s happened to the Lords?” he asks jokingly. I raise an eyebrow at him anyway. “You all turned domestic. Morally superior and shit. Never met a club more willing to give up easy road pussy for the promise of some bitch back home.” He outright laughs at that.

“This gonna be a problem?” I ask.

“Fuck, no. I just wish we grew women here in Texas as good as you grow ’em back in Kentucky. Got a picture I can use to get me there while I’m being sucked off inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” I stuff my hand inside my front pocket and pull it back out, flipping him off. The fucker’s joking and he’s lucky I know that or I don’t care how big he is, he’d meet my fist before he had the chance to turn around. He barks with laughter, throws his arm around my shoulder, and walks us inside.

It’s pandemonium and my brothers hit the party running. Blaze walks up to a bitch—I don’t even think he asks her name before he has her on her knees. I walk over to the bar. This is gonna be a long night.

Once the fucking starts to get wet and loud—women pinned against walls, bent over tables, or hands braced against barstools—I excuse myself to the room the Outcasts have put me up in. I lie down on the bed and dial Frankie.

“Hey,” she says all breathy, the sound making my dick twitch hard. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, missing my lasses is all.”

“Well, they’re down for the night. If you call a little earlier tomorrow, I’ll put the phone up to their ears,” she says, not catching my meaning.

“Miss all three of my lasses, Frankie.”

“They miss you, too,” she whispers and I know how much that cost her to admit it, but I’m damn glad she did. Those words spread a stupid smile across my face.

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