Page 65 of Domino
The fact that she hasn’t thrown me out and still seems to be bantering with me like nothing’s changed blows a bit of oxygen into the embers of hope that are smoldering within me. I’m careful to nurture the flame, though, and not let it burn out of control. A small bit of hope is a good thing. Too much is just plain foolish.
“Anyway, when Missy told me you belonged to this MC, she said I should be careful about you. That I might want to reconsider seeing you because of the reputation. A lot of people think you’re violent, that you run drugs, that you do this and that. And that you’re all bad guys. Criminals.”
“And what do you think?”
“I’m not naïve, Max. I know you and your club are neither altar boys, Boy Scouts, or the perfect law-abiding citizens. I’m sure there’s some truth in what the people believe,” she says. “but I want you to be honest with me. Do you guys traffic in drugs? People?”
I swallow hard and push back on the voice in my head, telling me I need to shut up and stop talking now. The voice that’s telling me I shouldn’t tell her the specifics of the club operations as much for her sake as for mine. But I’ve opened the door, and I am determined to walk through it. I owe Ashley this. I owe her my honesty as well as my trust.
I clear my throat and lick my lips, which are suddenly dry. “We sell weed. Yes. We sell large amounts of weed. So, that much is true. But as far as hard drugs, no. We don’t traffic in those, and we never will.”
“What else?” she asks.
“We sell guns to some groups here and there, but it’s the weed that’s our primary source of income.”
“People? Do you traffic in people?”
I cock my head at her. “Seriously?”
Her giggle sounds more like one of relief than it is because she found it funny. And when she looks at me, I can see that relief upon her face as well.
“I’ve heard that you and the club keep the streets of Blue Rock clean?” she asks.
I nod. “We refuse to let anybody sell that shit in town. It’s maybe a little barbaric, but when we find out somebody’s dealing shit, we make sure they don’t anymore. In fact, that’s what I was on my way to do the first night I saw you. We got a tip that some shitbag was dealing in a local bar, so we handled him.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Handled him? As in—”
I laugh softly. “No. Not like that. We just made sure he understood Blue Rock is a no-dealing zone. Period.”
“And what about tomorrow?”
“That’s different. We didn’t pick that fight. We didn’t start it, but we will finish it. We will not let the cartel have this town. We are going to fight to the last man to protect this town.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. I wish you wouldn’t imply that you could… die,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“It’s simply acknowledging reality, Ash. You know, as I’ve thought about this more, I realize I’m not just in this fight for my brothers in the MC. It’s part of it, sure. But the other part is that I’m fighting for you. And for Cole. You came here looking for a fresh start in a good town. Blue Rock is that. It’s the best place to raise a kid as far as I’m concerned. And I will die before I let somebody like Zavala get his hooks into this place and turn it into some drug-infested shithole.”
A gentle smile crosses her face and her eyes shimmer with tears. As one tracks down her cheek, I reach up and wipe it away with my thumb as I cup her face in my hand. I lean forward and press my lips to hers gently. Pulling back, I give her a soft smile I hope looks as reassuring as I intend it to.
“Everything is going to be all right. I promise you,” I say.
“It won’t be if you go and get yourself killed.”
“I won’t.”
“You can’t promise that,” she says.
“Sure I can. I’ve got a hell of a lot to live for. I have you and Cole to come back to. I love you, Ashley.”
More tears fall down her cheeks, but there’s a warm smile on her face. She pulls me down into a kiss and as her lips part, our tongues slide around one another softly. The heat between us grows quickly. I kiss Ashley’s neck and she lets out a soft breath, a quiet whimper escaping her. She reaches down and grips me through my jeans, running her hand up and down my quickly thickening shaft.
I pull back and give her a meaningful look then shift my eyes to the hallway, the question clear.
“He’s out cold. A bomb could go off, and I doubt he’d wake up. But we should probably still be as quiet as we can,” she says, her voice thick with desire.
She reaches down and quickly unbuckles my belt, then quickly unzips my pants. I look up at her, a grin on my face.
“You’re pretty good at that,” I say.
