Page 16 of Road Rash

6

Old Man

I’m low-key freaking out at the sight of Jonesie riding up on the back of some other man’s bike. And I’m fucking pissed at the reason she’s here instead of at home in bed. Sheriff should arrive soon. He showed to take the report on the dumpster fire earlier, and then I called him back as soon as I got the call from Steph, Mad Man’s old lady, even though she didn’t have all the details. I hope to god this ends soon. He’s nice enough as sheriff’s go, but I’m tired of seeing his face. Tired of dealing with all this shit.

Specter rolls to a stop next to me. A woman with a head injury shouldn’t be on the back of a bike. That was her only option and I’m grateful for them stopping to help, but it’s just one more thing for me to worry about.

“Baby,” I whisper as I help lift her off the back. She’s barefoot and in her sleepshirt. “You okay?”

“I heard him trashing the trailer and I’m sure he trashed the house… but I’m not hurt, well, aside from my feet.” She holds up one foot showing a dirty sole with cuts, scrapes, and blisters all over the bottom. “I don’t know about Burk. What if he hurt Burk?”

I can’t think about that right now. My buddy. That motherfucker hurt my dog and I’ll pull his spine out through his mouth. Burk’s fine. He has to be. I can’t consider anything else.

“Gotta get those cleaned up.” I’m talking about her feet and lift her into my arms like a groom carrying a bride. She reads the situation clearly letting talk of Burk go.

“You two together now?” Specter asks.

I nod. “Jonesie’s movin’ down here. Permanently.”

He laughs. “’Bout damn time,” he says. “We been taking bets for years on how long you two were gonna wait to get together.”

“Who won?” I ask.

“We need to check the books,” Steph says while laughing at us, too. It seems so ridiculous, us waiting so long. Me—this is all on me. I’m the one who drew those lines. What a stupid fuck. Everyone knows it.

“What was the emergency?” Jonesie asks me.

“The dumpster out back caught on fire.” I sigh, shaking my head, really not liking the connections I’m coming up with.

“How often does that happen?” she asks, and I can see the hurt and hope behind her eyes. She knows the answer, but is hoping she’s wrong. Everyone here knows she’s not wrong.

“Never. Dumpsters don’t just catch on fire, sweetheart. Someone set it on fire,” Mad Man says.

I nod again. “Then it looks like they waited until I showed up here and made a move on my house. On my woman. Dammit.” Jonesie buries her face against my neck. “Come on in,” I say to Mad Man, Steph, and Specter. “Drinks on me for helpin’ Jonesie.”

“Not turning down a free drink,” Specter says, “but only an asshole wouldn’t stop to help a woman in need.”

They follow me inside. “Remy, darlin’, get these people their drinks. On the house.”

“You got it, boss,” she calls back. Don’t know what I’d do without Remy. She stepped right up to help out since Jonesie and Brandi have been out. Specter blatantly checks her out with longing. I can’t blame him. Remy’s got a nice rack and a fine ass. A damn pretty face, especially when she smiles. It lights up the whole room. She’s wearing a short skirt and one of our Spread the Rash T-shirts that she’s augmented by cutting the neckline into a low scoop making sure to show off plenty of tits. She’s got these streaks of blonde running down the front of her auburn hair, which she has piled in a messy bun on top of her head. I’ve noticed the brothers like to play with those streaks which brings her bigger tips. But beyond being fine, Remy’s a good woman. I wouldn’t mind seeing her with a man like Specter. He’d take good care of her. So long as he brings her back here for the rally. Getting ahead of myself here, though.

“Takin’ Jonesie in the back to clean off her feet.” I don’t wait for a reaction to walk her back there. Once we’ve got the privacy, I set her down on the desk, moving my hands to hold her face. I press a kiss to her parted lips. Then I press my forehead to hers just breathing her in. Feeling her safe beneath me.

“I’m okay,” she whispers.

Fuck, I know she is. It doesn’t help. “Shouldn’t’ve happened in the first place. We might be new, but baby, you know I’ve loved you for ten years. I can’t lose you—I won’t lose you.”

“Maybe if we let it be known—the state of my injury?” she asks as she brings her hand up to rest against my cheek absentmindedly running her thumb over the skin not covered with beard. “That I don’t remember anything.”

“My guess, it won’t help. Whoever’s responsible, they’re hedging the bets to keep it that way.”

“What are we going to do, Dane? I’m scared.”

“Baby—” I start but don’t get the chance to finish because Clyde, one of my bartenders, pops his head inside the office.

“Old Man, the sheriff’s back. He’s waiting.”

I nod, grunting my reply. His appearance makes me realize that I haven’t had time to take care of Jonesie’s feet. As Clyde disappears from the room, I turn to my woman, pushing away from her. “Gotta get those feet taken care of.”

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