Page 34 of King's Barber
“What happened?” King asked bluntly. “That little weasel owes us fifty grand, Barber, and I want it delivered.”
“He gave us ten,” I said as I walked to Uncle Errol’s rusty Ford truck. I really needed to buy a car for situations like these, when my bike was either being fixed or it was left somewhere, like Quain’s house. Smiling at the thought of that sexy motherfucker, I settled into the cab of the truck and shoved the key in, turning the ignition. She spluttered a bit before she finally roared to life.
“Where’s the other forty plus interest?” King’s tone bordered on dangerous.
“You know what these fucking businessmen are like. Excuse after excuse. I told you we shouldn’t sell to them.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I told the fucker to get the rest to us by the end of the week, or we’ll visit his wife and use her to get the money back.”
King sighed. “You figure he’s good for it?”
I hesitated. I hated when King asked me these kinds of questions, but it’d always been part of the gig. We weren’t a reputable club for no reason. If people fucked with our business, we dealt with them the way they needed to be handled. “I don’t think so. I think that money was for someone else, pres. He’s the kind of douche who owes cash to all kinds of people, I’d bet my bike on it.”
“Fuck.” He growled in frustration. “I hate bringing family into this. You think we can knock him around a bit first?”
“Nah, the bastard had the balls to hit me when I asked him for the money. I can already feel the bruises.” I stared out into the street I was parked on, taking in the worker bees dressed in expensive coats continuing on with their life with no idea what was happening around them. They each had their own issues, some probably with the same drug habits as Holter. I shivered against the morning chill. “I think you’re going to need to send Reaper to the wife and daughter. Maybe scare them. That might get Holter moving.”
“Fuck. That asshole better start paying up. I don’t want to have to put bullets in his family’s heads.”
“Yeah. Talk later.” I ended the call and threw the phone on the seat next to me. The barber shop wasn’t far from here, a few blocks, but the traffic was shitty. By the time I got to work, twenty minutes had gone by and I was in a foul mood. That all changed when I saw who was waiting for me at the front of the shop, though. I grinned when I walked toward Quain.
He looked as delicious as ever in those tight jeans and black turtleneck. The chain with the ring on it that he wore every day hung around his neck, and instead of appearing annoyed with me like he usually was, his brows were furrowed in concern when I reached him. I could still taste his mouth on mine—sweet as strawberry wine—and I wanted more.
“Are you okay?” he asked, touching my cheek where Holter had landed one of his punches.
I winced but continued smiling. “I’m fine, now that you’re here.”
Quain sent me an unimpressed look, his short hair fluttering slight with a gust of wind. “You think you’re so charming, but you’re not.”
“I have to disagree,” I teased with a laugh. “All the boys love me.”
He rolled his eyes and cupped my cheek, caressing his thumb over my skin.
I closed my eyes and sighed pleasantly. “I can’t decide what side of you I like best. The part who bitches about my garbage and music, or this one.”
Quain snorted, and I opened my eyes to stare down at him again. He had no idea what he did to me, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. As a bike club we had all sorts of groupies who wanted an adventure on the wild side—from whores to random guys and girls, they all begged to ride my dick—but Quain didn’t need to ask. My dick was already hard and waiting for him to hop on.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay. Oli said you went to do some business for King, and I was worried.” He stepped back, but I grabbed him before he could retreat, hauling him against me. I slammed my mouth against his. He moaned, his arms wrapping around my neck as I forced his back up against the glass front of the shop, not giving a shit who would be watching us from inside and on the street. I hungered for him.
The noises he made were delicious, and I pressed my hardening dick against his thigh, giving him a good feel of what he did to me. He moaned into my mouth, and I made a move to get even closer, but then he placed his hands on my chest, shoving me away and breaking our contact. I took a few steps back, disappointment it ended so quickly sitting heavily in my gut.
Quain inhaled deeply and drew his bottom lip into his mouth. “You are insufferable.”
I laughed with genuine amusement. “And you are gorgeous.”
He chuckled and shook his head, pushing away from the glass. “I need to go back to work. If you’re lucky, maybe you can come around for dinner again tonight, and you can tell me about your morning.”
“I’d like that.” Except I wouldn’t be telling him anything about the message I’d delivered. No one outside of the club could know about our business, even if they were a hot hairstylist with a tight body I wanted to pound.
“Have a good day, Luke.” He swept toward his shop’s door and disappeared inside, leaving me outside grinning like a maniac.
Shaking my head, I went into my own shop and was met with hoots and whistles. I rolled my eyes at Oli, Watson, and the couple of customers we had waiting. Bowing dramatically, I winked. “Thank you, thank you. I’m here all week for your entertainment.”
Everyone laughed.
Turning toward Oli, I narrowed my eyes and checked the time on my phone. “You’re supposed to be at school. It’s nine.”
He shrugged, running his hands through his curly hair. “Nothing important is happening there today anyway. I thought you’d need the help here. You said you had business for King.”
Watson was standing behind his station, a customer in his chair. He turned toward me and said, “Kid helped out a lot this morning, boss. I needed him. Florie called in. Her grams died last night, and she needs to help her mom sort things out.”
