Page 6 of The Biker and the Professor
The Metal House is right across the street.
Judge treats us well. We make decent money. But I’ve been here long enough now to decide this isn’t how I want to spend the rest of my life. That’s the reason behind my abrasiveness with Kendra earlier. Why the hell doesn’t she want more for herself?
Scratch believes me a madman for dumping all my earnings into tuition fees with no guarantee it’ll pay off. “You’re making good money,”he’d said. “Why not save it, invest it, instead of paying for a certificate to tell you’re good enough?”
I’m perpetually broke because of college and I’m cool with that. He doesn’t understand that complacency is equivalent to poverty. Yeah, I’m making good money as a mechanic now, but advancing to electrical engineering will be far more lucrative.
But even more than getting a higher-paying job, I need a change. A change of scenery, a change of perspective, a change of path. My heart is no longer with the club. Over the years, I’ve seen too many brothers either end up dead or in the slammer. There’ve been many meetings, many discussions, many promises about going legit with the club, but with no follow-through.
I’m grateful for Judge and the fatherly kindness he’s showed me, but sticking around here will get me nowhere real damn fast.
I turn the key in the door to my studio apartment and walk in, kicking it shut behind me. The studio’s as basic as it gets.
It’s got all the necessary essentials. I supposed that’s all that matters for now – bed, a closet, a kitchenette, a fridge, a two-seater dining table, a dresser, and a plasma TV.
The studios are here for the brothers without their own space. Since all my earnings go straight to my tuition, it’s financially sensible to just stay here. Hell, Scratch makes good money doing illegal club shit, enough to buy his own place cash, but he still uses one of the trailers outside.
Not that I spend much time in here anyway. I’m here only to sleep or take a bath. When I’m not working across the street, I’m heading from class to class on C-Tech campus or studying at Kendra’s apartment because it’s quiet and her internet isn’t shit.
Shrugging out of my cut, I let it drop to the linoleum floor and fall back on the bed. I’m tired, frustrated, and sexually repressed. Haven’t had my dick sucked in almost three months. Not because Ican’tget any action, but because I’ve been refusing action.
That “tension” Scratch was harping on me about earlier? Yeah, it all started around seven months ago when a new professor appeared on campus, sashaying around in tall heels and short skirts. Tiny, tanned, toned, and tight, she was a different kind of beautiful; the kind that stole your breath and left you on life support.
Who was she and where the hell did she come from? I wanted to know. So, I observed her and asked questions, long enough to uncover she isn’t married, doesn’t have kids, and most importantly, doesn’t have a man.
The following semester, she replaced my old calculus professor. Introduced herself as Miss Toni Blume, while flashing ridiculously perfect teeth and batting her long, dark lashes at us. I felt things too big for me to understand.
As she moved down the roster, calling name after name, I waited with impatience to hear what my name would sound like on her lips.
Until she called it… “Nero Gunnar?”
My name rolled so smoothly off her tongue, glided from her lips like a delicate kiss.
I didn’t answer. I let her search for me. She would know who I was when she found me. I’d make sure of it.
Her deep-brown eyes shifted from face to face, until they finally met mine…and stayed there. Her cheeks rosied as she licked her plump lips, glanced briefly down at the roster, then repeated, “Nero Gunnar?”
Didn’t need to respond. I’d already told her everything she needed to know with one look. She was marked.
Mine.
That was the day I decided to save it all for her. And when the time is right, she’ll claim what’s hers.
Chapter 4
Toni
I’m in aditch.
Quite literally.
All because of Cherry Garcia.
I was at home blissfully Netflix-marathoning and nibbling on limoncello squares, up until 12:59 AM when I realized the tub of Ben and Jerry’s in my freezer was not half-full as I thought, but fullyempty. How had it become empty? Did I eat it while sleepwalking? Did I eat it on a no-cheating day and put the empty tub back into the freezer to ease my guilt? I’ve no freaking idea what happened to that half-tub of ice-cream. All I knew was, there were three episodes ofThe Last Kingdomleft, I was determined to finish them before bed, and IneededCherry Garcia to do that.
Without even bothering to change from my leopard print onesie pajamas, I slipped on a pair of Ugg boots, grabbed my purse, car keys, and set out for the nearest 24-hour convenience store.
Now, twenty-two minutes later, my precious SUV is cocked rear-up in a ditch.
