Dice (A Righteous Outlaws Novel #3) (5 page)

C
utting
ties with the doctor was an excuse to celebrate. We had been working with the sick fuck for too long. Desperation made us do it. After Aubree’s old man got thrown in the slammer, we needed a doc to fill prescriptions for us when we were waiting on shipments. Which meant we had to find a doctor who had a secret. This bastard had a secret alright: a disturbing obsession with kiddie porn.

Hudson, being the fucking computer god he was, discovered the perv. The doctor had no choice but to work with us. But now, Cash, as promised, secured another deal so we wouldn’t have to work with the sicko any longer. Kade and I got to break the news with a reminder that if he ever mentioned the Righteous Outlaws, we would dismember him whether he was in jail or not. We had connections, and the last thing he should do was test us.

Hudson would send an anonymous tip to the authorities, and the good old doctor would be where he belonged: behind bars far away from any kids.

At the clubhouse, the booze flowed, the girls danced, and I sat back watching it all. With Nick gone, and Cash and Kade tied down with old ladies, it wasn’t like it used to be. When we weren’t dealing drugs or battling it out with Gordita’s army or Montamos, we partied and we partied hard.

So many mornings, I woke up with naked chicks wrapped around me, surrounded by empty bottles and bad decisions. It was my life, and I thought it was the best fucking thing ever. But, somewhere along the way, it lost its appeal.

I was sick of sticking my dick into a nameless slut. Sick of drinking myself into oblivion and trying to forget all the shit I’d endured. Nick once called me a survivor, and maybe I was, but most of the time I wasn’t trying to survive. I was just stumbling around, and letting shit run its course. It was more luck than anything else.

A new girl sat on Miles’s lap, and he ripped her shirt off, sticking his head right in between her tits. She laughed, and he unsnapped her bra with one hand. Her tits spilled free, and I wasn’t going to lie; they were pretty fucking nice.

Miles threw her bra at my head, a pink lacy number that normally would make my dick hard. It never took much to get me going. I could be hard in an instant, a trick that drove the girls fucking wild. But, today, I wasn’t feeling it.

The girl squealed as Miles tossed her over his shoulder and slapped her ass. “You want to join us?” Miles asked.

It wouldn’t be the first time Miles and I tag teamed a girl. We only had one rule. No matter what, our dicks didn’t touch. There was nothing better than shoving your cock in a girl’s mouth while she was getting the shit plowed out of her.

But, it was just something else I’d become bored with. Besides, I had a kitchen sink to look at and, for some fucking reason, that sounded more appealing than spit roasting some whore.

“She’s all yours. Have fun.”

“You sure? I mean, look at this ass.” He lifted up her skirt, revealing a tanned ass and a matching thong to the bra that was now on the floor.

“I’m sure. I’ll catch you later.”

I headed out and lit a cigarette, sucking it down before hopping on my bike. Halfway to Allison’s, the sky opened up and the rain fell. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I was dripping wet.

Mr. Rollins peered through his curtains, as I made my way up the sidewalk. Tempted to flip him off, I controlled myself, forcing my hand to stay at my side.

The faint sound of shitty country music floated out from Allison’s apartment, and I imagined her dancing around naked. I knocked and, when she didn’t answer right away, I knocked harder.

“It’s me,” I said, since she seemed like the type to check out the window first.

The lock unclicked, and the door flung open. “Hey,” she said with a smile. “I was wondering if you’d ever show up.” She was in tiny shorts, and a tank top that hugged her curves like a fucking glove. Who knew all those loose fitting dresses were hiding that body?

My pants tightened as I scanned her up and down, starting from her huge fucking tits down to her small waist. She was thin, but not starve yourself thin. She had the body of an athlete, hard in all the right places, yet still soft like a woman.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to get my focus off her body and all the things I wanted to do to it. “Sorry. I got caught up.”

“Out saving lives?” she joked, though it could be true. The doctor would be thrown in jail, and every kid he would have ever thought about touching was safe from years of torment and thousands of dollars in therapy bills.

“You could say that.”

“Come in and get out of the rain. Let me get you a towel.” She stepped aside to welcome me into the place that was my home for so many years. The first place I was able to call my own. Moving in here was the moment I started taking charge of my own life, and stopped dwelling on all the shit that kept me down for so long.

This place helped me become something other than an unwanted waste of space.

Now, looking around, this did not look like that place any longer. There were actual curtains on the windows. Yellow curtains with white lacy shit. Oh, god, they were in the shape of flowers. The tobacco smell that Sienna used to bitch about when she was pregnant as being too pungent was completely gone, and all I could smell was the sweet vanilla scent of Allison.

A big ass potted plant filled the corner. The couch had a blanket draped over it, like some shit you would see at a Grandma’s house. Like the blanket Stumpy’s aunt Martha and Aubree’s childhood chef, made when DC was born. This one, however, wasn’t blue and boring. It had every color of the fucking rainbow weaved together to make crazy patterns.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I took it out, swiping at the screen when I saw Miles’s name pop up. A picture of him fucking two chicks with him giving a thumbs up appeared, and the caption read:
This could have been you.

Allison walked into the room, and I shoved my phone back in my pocket, not regretting a single thing. I’d rather be here.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yup. So that’s interesting,” I said, pointing to the kaleidoscope blanket when she handed me a towel. It was purple. I didn’t even know they made purple towels.

“Thanks. I can make you one if you want?”

“You made that?”

“Yup. I made that, too.” She pointed to a coffee table made of distressed wood: two drawers and, beneath it, a place for baskets.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. When I found out I was staying here, I went on a hunt for some materials.”

This girl was just full of surprises. She looked so sweet and innocent, yet she built a fucking coffee table from scratch. I was amazing with my hands, and I didn’t even think I could do that. I got down on my knees and admired the craftsmanship.

Underneath the table, were bins filled with yarn, lace and fabric. “Let me guess. You made the curtains, too?”

“I did.”

“Are you sure you need me to look at the sink?” I got back to my feet and stepped toward her until I could feel her heat radiating off of her. “Or, did you just use that as an excuse to get me over here?”

She gasped at my closeness but quickly recovered. “I can make anything from scratch but, when it comes to actually fixing something, I’m clueless. So, as girly as it sounds, I really need you to look at the sink.”

“I like girly, but why do you think that is? Why can you make a fucking coffee table from wood scraps, but you can’t fix something?”

I didn’t really care. I just liked to hear her talk. I liked her insight on things, but, even more, I liked her voice. It made me smile.

“I can look at something and get a vision of what it could be, then I make it. I’ve looked at that sink a million times with the vision that it should stop leaking yet it never does.”

“Too bad your abilities don’t extend to telekinesis.”

“Mmm, too bad. That could be fun.” She tapped her finger against her lips.

“Plotting to take over the world?”

“Something like that. Now come on. The sink has been waiting for you.”

I held my hands up jokingly. “God forbid I make it wait.”

“Very demanding and impatient, it is.”

I followed Allison into the kitchen, and she leaned against the counter. Three garbage cans sat in the far corner.

“Do you have a small army living here I don’t know about?” I nodded to the three bins.

“One is for garbage, the other for paper and the other plastic and cans. Do you not recycle?”

“Do I look like I recycle?”

Her shoulders slumped and she let out a very loud, annoyed breath. “Did you know that it’s estimated that seventy-five percent of American waste is recyclable, but only about thirty percent of it actually gets recycled?”

“Tragic.”

She playfully slapped my chest. “It is. Recycling just one aluminum can. One. One can. Can save enough energy to listen to a full album on your iPod.”

“Well I don’t have an iPod. I prefer to keep it old school and listen to records.”

“That’s kind of recycling. Taking something that’s pretty obsolete and still making use of it.”

“For me it’s not about recycling. It’s all about the experience that you don’t get with a digital download.”

“I can appreciate that,” she said while I fidgeted with the faucet. “That’s kind of why I like making things. For the experience.”

“Oh it’s not because you’d rather use recycled wood?”

“That is part of it. But I also like knowing at the end of the day that I didn’t waste money at a store. That my hard work built it.” She was quiet for a moment. “So, what exactly is a motorcycle club?”

My hand stopped on the faucet, and I looked at her. Her eyes were on me, waiting for a response. There was of course the generic answer. One that, more or less, was the definition of a riding club. The innocent kind of club, where you were in it because you enjoyed the ride. Or I could be honest. Tell her what we truly were.

“It’s a brotherhood. We’re family. I would do anything for any of them as they would for me. No questions asked.”

“Would you kill for them?” Her voice cracked on kill, and became no more than a whisper.

I looked her straight in her eyes. “I would do anything for them.”

“Wow. That’s… nice.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

The problem didn’t seem like it had to do with the faucet, so I got down into the cabinet. Moved the bottles of cleaners she must have found on sale, or why else would she have so many, and started checking the pipes.

“It is, though. Having all those people who care about you. The only person I had was my mom, and now that she’s gone.” Her words trailed off and I looked out, waiting for her to continue. “Well, I can only hope that, if I die here, someone will discover my body before I start to rot.”

I pushed out from beneath the sink, and got to my feet because I needed her to see me when I said what I had to say. “Al, I wouldn’t let you rot.”

“Allison.”

“Stop fighting me on it.”

She pushed her pretty pink lips together, and looked at me through those long fucking lashes.

I tucked a strand of red behind her ear, needing to touch her, but trying to refrain from picking her up onto the counter and having my way with her. Tried to stop envisioning her legs wrapped around my torso while I fucked her stupid. “You’re too pretty to let rot.”

“Now, that’s a line I never heard before.”

“Did it work?” I asked, and her blue eyes darkened like the night sky.

Her lips parted, and my dick hardened. “It depends.”

I moved to her, until her back hit the counter, and she couldn’t go anywhere. “On what?” Her breaths came in short gasps as I moved my knee in between her legs.

She swallowed. “Did you fix the sink yet?”

“Fuck the sink.” I crushed my lips to hers, sucking her tongue into my mouth, and savored her sweet taste. A moan rose in her throat and vibrated against my lips. Her hands grabbed my cut, pulling me even closer to her warmth.

It wasn’t enough. For two weeks, I’d been watching her ass sway in those dresses, and wondering what was beneath all that material. Only getting peeks here and there when she bent over and the top dipped low. I needed to see and feel. Touch and taste.

I grabbed her ass, and placed her on the counter just like I’d been fantasizing about. Her hands went right to my hair, gripping and tugging, holding me in place, so I couldn’t take my mouth away from hers. Too bad for her, I had other plans.

I tore my lips away, and dragged them down her neck, sucking, kissing and licking a path to her collarbone. She tasted like vanilla cake, reminding me she was sweet and innocent, not some whore at the clubhouse. Allison wasn’t some girl I would stick my dick in, just so I could come and get it over with. No, Allison deserved to be worshipped. And I planned on worshipping every fucking inch of her body.