I tried to get that woman off my mind the entire fucking day. Throwing myself into work, I headed into the garage at the club to work on a few bikes. Every club needed an income—a legit income. We refurbished old bikes and made a small profit on the resales.

 

It didn’t matter how much I focused on the rebuild, my mind wandered over to Beth’s image every time. The delicious curve of her ass and the round heaviness of her breasts had my cock standing at attention almost all day. I needed to have her again, and again. But I didn’t do second rounds, not once they went home. It didn’t matter. I needed her and I’d have her. She still hadn’t text me, but I decided to give her a little more time before I went and found her. In our small town, it wouldn’t take me any time at all to find her, and when I did, she’d be getting that spanking I promised. Just the idea of bending that woman over my knee bare assed and ready for her punishment made my cock press against my jeans harder, the zipper making it uncomfortable. Fuck, I needed that woman now.

 

“Hey, Rafe!” JC jogged across the garage toward the corner I was just finishing up in. “Hey! Jason’s on the phone.” He handed me the cordless. My cell hadn’t gone off, why would he call me at the garage and not on my personal phone?

 

“What’s up?” From the look on JC’s face, I must have barked my greeting. Sexual frustration had my mood all fucked up, and knowing Jason gave even one second of thought to backing that asshat Gray.

 

“Rafe, I need you get over here. I’m at the warehouse on 25th.” The rush in his voice got the hairs standing up on my neck.

 

“What’s wrong, why you over there?” The warehouse on 25th had been locked down for months. Too many fucking raids from the cops to keep it a viable option for us, it had been empty ever since.

 

“Just get your ass over here,” he yelled into the phone.

 

“Sure. On my way.” Before I could click off the call, he hung up. “I’m taking off. Catch me on my cell if you need me.” I tossed the phone to JC and headed toward my bike. “And have one of those fucking prospects clean my station!” I called back over my shoulder.

 

***

 

By the time I drove out to the warehouse the sun had disappeared. The street lamps didn’t burn all that bright around the place, but I could make out Jason’s bike parked near one of the loading docks. His bike was there, but Jason wasn’t. The whole place still looked locked down, no lights, no open doors. I cut my engine and slid off the bike, leaving my helmet on the seat.

 

I stepped up to the garage door and banged my fist on it. “Jason!”

 

“Fuck! Not so loud!” His raspy voice hissed at me from the corner of the building. He stepped out from behind the large bushes, zipping his fly. “I had to piss. Christ, you’re loud.” He straightened his kutte, looking around. “Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”

 

“No, you didn’t sound like you wanted me to.” I watched him, his eyes darted behind me, then out over the empty parking lot to where the trees outlined the property. “What the fuck’s going on? What are you doing way out here?”

 

 “You remember that job we did a few years back? Hauling those fucking barrels of oil for Javier?”

 

It took me a second to remember, but then it came back to me. “Yeah, it wasn’t fucking oil in those barrels, but whatever, what about it?” The last job we did for that messed up cartel wannabe gang had seemed simple. Those barrels were full of fucking drugs and ammo, and we’d met a little resistance at the state line. Two of our men had been killed on that fucked up run. “Gray set that thing up,” I recalled.

 

“Yeah, he did.” Jason nodded.

 

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything now? That was years ago, we don’t deal with Javier no more.” I looked over my shoulder when Jason made another pass with his eyes at the tree line.

 

“No, but I think Hell’s Spawn is doing runs for them.”

 

I stepped in front of him, keeping my body blocking him from looking away. The man was downright jumpy and needed straight answers.

 

A loud roar of an engine distracted me as a lone rider barreled into the lot, right behind us. Jason started to yell out, but just as I started to turn the crack of the gun being discharged nearly deafened me, it was so close. A sharp pang tore through my shoulder, throwing me to the side. The flash from the barrel blinded my eyes against the dark night. Jason’s bellow of rage morphed into a groan of pain as he fell to his knees, clutching his stomach.

 

I dropped to his side, forgetting about the shooter as I cradled Jason in my lap. The blood poured out fast from his stomach, his hands already covered in the sticky substance. I placed my hands over his, pressing down, trying my best to stop the bleeding.

 

“Fuck!” I yelled into the air. “Who the fuck was that?” I grappled for my phone to call for help, but Jason started to cough and spit blood out onto my lap.

 

“It…that…fuck…” Jason reached up and grabbed my arm. The burning in my shoulder would have to wait. “Fuck…” Jason groaned again.

 

“Who was it, did you see him?” I asked, still trying to get my phone out of my pocket, the pain in my shoulder wouldn’t let me close my hand around it.

 

“I never would have…” He started coughing again, more blood splattered across his chest. Finally, my hand gripped my phone and I managed to get it out; dialing 911 wasn’t as easy with the blood all over my fingers, but I managed it well enough.

 

I quickly gave the dispatch our location and hung up, not answering most of her fucking questions. Jason was bleeding out in front of me; I didn’t need to hear about not feeding him anything, I needed a fucking ambulance!

 

“It’s okay. The ambulance is coming. Just hold on.” I put more pressure on his stomach, and he groaned louder.

 

“Stephanie…” he mumbled

 

“Don’t worry about her. I’ll take care of her…you just focus now.”

 

“I’m…gonna…kill…that…fucker…” More coughing and blood. I looked off into the distance, toward the highway. Where the fuck is that ambulance!

 

“Jason. Who?”

 

His brown eyes met mine. His face had paled, his lips nearly white. His fingers loosened their grip on my arm until they finally fell away. What little breaths he took were shallow and slow, until finally they stopped all together. I felt his body go limp in my arms. His head rolled to the side, staring off at the spot the shooter had fired his gun.

 

Sirens came into earshot, lights flashed around me, but they were too late. Jason was already dead.