***Bark***
“Get the fuck out of here, Paris,” I bark at my friend and shove his shoulder. The man just got a phone call that his father was murdered. He needs to get his ass on a plane and head back home.
He’s been staying here, with the US charter, for the last few years learning how things go down in our charter. It’s time for him to step up and claim his birthright now that his father is dead; President of the Lost Valkyries MC, French Charter.
He nods warily and grabs my cut for a shoulder bump and a slap on my back. “You better come and stay with me sometime soon, fucker.”
“Right. I’ll be sure to step inside one of those big iron birds and fly to get myself some tight French pussy. Keep them warm for me, will ya?” I chuckle as the man climbs on his bike.
I watch as he drives off, struggling with my own inner demons that flare up at the thought of a family member being murdered. Fuck. My fingers slide over the wedding ring that belonged to my grandmother. I keep it hidden underneath my clothes. Although no one would recognize it as a wedding ring anymore because I’ve altered it slightly so it’s now a pendant.
I had to make it into a pendant because wearing a wedding ring around your neck raises questions I don’t feel I have to answer. When I first started wearing it, I never took off my shirt while fucking to keep it hidden, but when it gets rough the damn thing slips out. Altering it keeps the questions at bay for nosy ass chicks who ever pop a question as to why I have a golden wedding ring on a chain.
The answer is simple; none of your damn business. Because that’s my own personal shit I carry with me and I don’t need any chick throwing questions at me. The only need they have to fill is bending over to give my dick a warm place to stay for a little while and even that’s lost my interest these last few months.
I turn around and glance up at the store I’m standing in front of, a hair salon that opened about three weeks ago. Yeah, that’s exactly what I do need a woman for these days rather than a good fuck. Except I don’t have a clue if there’s a good one that can handle the style I demand. I shake my head because that’s not the first priority why I’m here.
I need to check it out because I’m the VP of Lost Valkyries MC, and because I’m a fucker with a conscience when it comes to these things. Blame it on past experience. I always like to dig deep and get the facts straight before becoming their executioner.
We got a request yesterday morning from Ross Royale. I kid you not, stupid fucking name, and I will also add that he made that shit up because his given name is Huck Mann. That’s correct, I bet that was hell growing up with misspelling that shit.
Anyway…he placed a request, an order for a hit, whatever you want to call it. I needed to check things out first. Normally it’s a crystal clear case; place the request with all the intel, hand over the cash, and we get our ass moving if the intel checks out. But with this one? Yeah, I had to double check because the fucker issuing the hit is a major scumbag in town.
We have three piles on our Prez’s desk; one where it states ‘no’, another ‘yes’, and the last one is the ‘incoming’ where all assignments come in. Only Ronin and I are in charge of clearing those and determining if we take it or not. Well, like I mentioned, most times it’s me. All jobs are paid for in advance because we don’t even glance at a request if the money isn’t there to back it up. And before you ask…no, there’s no refund if we don’t take the fucking job.
Normally the Prez would hand out the ‘jobs’, but there are six of us who can just grab a job from the ‘yes’ pile and take the cash when we’ve completed it. The cash from the ‘no’ pile goes straight into the funds of the club. The six of us have our own specialties and always get the job done. My other brothers, some of them nomads, get a job handed to them and they can take it or take a pass. But once we take a job, we see it through.
As for the hair salon, the demand was to blow it up. Since it just opened three weeks ago, the fucker requesting the hit being a major scumbag, and me needing a fucking haircut…I took it upon myself to check it out. I left the job in the incoming pile but Ronin knows I’m here to check it out first. Well, he thinks it’s me with Paris as my backup, but I just sent Paris back to the clubhouse to pack his bags.
I swing the door open and hear some kind of cowbell that’s attached to the top of it on the inside. When I close it, I take my time to glance around. It seems like the salon is divided into three sections. The first section where I’m standing, is the waiting room, complete with two dark gray couches and a tiny table with magazines sprawled over the surface. The floor is covered by a black carpet with a colorful sugar skulls print scattered all over.
The second section has two stylist chairs with large floor to ceiling mirrors in front of each one. In between the chairs and mirrors sit iron frame tables to hold different hair products and stylist tools. The walls are a rough concrete but with the sleek chairs, tables, and mirrors it appears very modern.
The last section, from what I can tell from way over here, is some kind of double pedicure bench. An old woman, probably in her seventies, is sitting at the bench…wait...I glance around and I realize there are five old people in here. There’s only one relatively younger girl and she’s sitting on a bar stool right next to the desk. I’m sure she works here because she’s all dressed in black with the name of the salon written in white on her tits. ‘Big Chick Beauty’. Except this chick doesn’t look big at all.
The one standing behind the desk though? She’s got her curvy ass facing me, along with two braids that flow into tails at her neckline and flow all the way down, coming to a stop just a few inches above that magnificent ass. Her hair is a mass of dark with hints of dirty blonde. Fuck. All I’m seeing is her back and all I’m thinking is ‘I need to rip off her pants, slide in deep, hold on to those braided pigtails, and bounce her on my dick until we both come’.
Fuck. People fall in love all kinds of ways. Love at first sight, or slowly until it settles, or just feel comfortable with the right person to share their life with. I’m wondering if a person can fall in love with an ass? Head over heels assdoration. Because I sure as fu….
“Hi there, can I help you?” I’m looking at high cheekbones, full lips, almond shaped eyes, and a damn heart shaped face.
Scratch the wondering about falling for her ass, that was just a kick-start to the whole shebang.
“Yeah, you sure as fuck can,” I croak and manage to swallow the part where I mentally add ‘bend over so I can bury myself to the hilt and start pounding until we both find release’.
Her eyes widen for a moment before she either says something like ‘shit’ or…hell, maybe she fucking sneezed, what do I know? For the sake of being polite, I say, “Bless you.”
Her eyes hit the floor and her cheeks pink up. If my dick wasn’t already hard from seeing her ass, then it’s knocking on my zipper to let him the fuck out now. Damn, she’s adorable.
She clears her throat. “Nora, could you check if Tessa is done with Ms. Patel?” She locks her eyes with me before she adds, “Please take a seat, Tessa will be,”
“No worries, I’ll take him.” The chick I assume is Nora now jumps from the bar stool she was sitting on and steps toward me.
“Actually, I was looking for,” I start but fuck…I’m cut off by the bell above the door as it swings open.
The sheriff saunters in and releases a deep sigh before I hear the woman behind the desk sayin’ something like ‘shit’ or maybe she’s fucking sneezing again, before she starts to shake her head. “No. Just no, sheriff. Not again.”
“Sorry, Ms. Fox. You know the drill,” the sheriff states as he starts to usher people out of the salon.
Ms. Fox? She’s Jodi Fox? As in the owner of the damn hair salon that’s got a target on it? Fuuuuuuuck.