Chapter Two
“You wound me, Bill,” Zach said as he leaned against the man’s silver BMW. He folded his arms across his chest, making sure to keep the Louisville Slugger—who he’d named Louie—on full display.
From his spot on the ground, in the driveway of his isolated three-million-dollar mansion, Bill groaned. He was curled up in the fetal position after Louie had made contact with his rich-guy soft gut.
“Fuck you,” Bill coughed and groaned again.
With a chuckle, Zach bent forward until he was just a foot away from Bill’s grimacing face. He tapped the bat against Bill’s leg and couldn’t hold back a laugh when the man jumped like a skittish little girl. He was typically more about the intimidation than actually beating on people, but Bill had been a thorn in the club’s ass for months now.
“Okay,” he said around a smirk. “Maybe you’re a little bit right. I do get some pleasure out of this, but what you seem to forget, Billy-boy, is that I don’t have to be here. I don’t seek you out to get my jollies by beating your ass. You’re the one who keeps crawling back to my club, begging for money so you can feed the slots. Or is roulette your game of choice? Craps?”
The MC had a very lucrative loan sharking business, fueled by idiots like Bill who couldn’t seem to get a handle on their vices. At a fifty-point vig, the money their clients owed added up fast, especially if they missed the fourteen-day payback timeline. In that case, the fifty percent interest was added to the original loan and recalculated. After another two weeks, Zach came by for a little visit. Just a gentle reminder of the contracted agreement.
“I asked you a question, Billy.” Zach stood and swung the bat like he was chasing a home run ball. The wood whizzed through the air at least three feet above Bill’s head, but he still curled tighter with his head cradled in his arms.
Pussy.
Like Zach would actually bash the man’s head in. Men with splattered brains couldn’t pay back their loans. But men with broken kneecaps sure could. And usually did, very fast.
Those results were why a hefty bat was Zach’s motivator of choice. He could show up at a client’s house with a gun, but then he’d have to shoot sometimes, and that was undesirable for a number of reasons. First off, it was messy as hell. Who had time to clean blood anyway?
Then there was the bullet, which if removed and collected for evidence, could be traced back to Zach and the MC. Exactly the opposite of what Copper wanted from him in his job as enforcer for the club. And lastly, there was always the chance he’d miss the mark and kill some poor schmuck that owed them money.
And again. Dead men couldn’t pay.
For the same reasons, he stayed away from knives. His own fists would work just fine, but then he’d be walking around with permanently bruised knuckles.
So, a bat it was. Clean, effective, untraceable.
Good stuff.
“You pussing out on me here, Bill? Come on. Tell me what you blew my club’s ten grand on.”
“P-poker.” A nasty cough followed a wheeze as Bill struggled to a sitting position. Sweat dotted his receding hairline and his skin took on a grayish pallor.
“Deep breaths, buddy. Got your diaphragm good there, didn’t I.” Zach laughed. “Damn, man, I guess I really do enjoy this shit. Hey, Bill, anyone ever tell you that you suck at poker? Now, I shouldn’t be giving you this advice since I’ll be eating a nice steak dinner on you soon, but you might wanna find a new hobby.”
“Th-this is the last time,” he coughed and groaned, clutching his portly stomach. “I s-swear it.”
“Well…” Zach spun the bat like a baton twirler. He’d spent so much time with it over the last few years, he’d mastered some fancy tricks. “Don’t quit on my account. As we’ve just learned, I seem to enjoy coming ’round and busting kneecaps. Which reminds me. This is your last warning. You’re up to twenty-two thousand, five hundred now. I’ll be back in two weeks. You don’t have it, I take this as collateral.” He rapped the bat against the tire of the man’s fancy ride. “I suggest you march right in that big old house you can’t afford and start crying to your wife. Maybe she’ll take pity on your pathetic ass and crack into her trust fund.”
Zach started down the driveway then spun and pointed the bat at Bill who was still on his ass in the driveway. “Oh yeah. Almost forgot. I’ll break a bone too. My choice.”
That announcement drew a sharp gasp from Bill. He’d always cut it close in the past, but this was the first time he’d been late to repay a loan. Zach shook his head. Loan sharking was one of the club’s most lucrative businesses. And Zach’s baby. Well, at least the bone crushing side of it. Jigsaw, the club’s treasurer, ran the financial side of things.
Copper was the brains behind the entire operation. About fourteen years ago, when he was voted in as prez, the club was a fuckin mess. Drugs and weapons trafficking were the main sources of income, and for a time, it looked like the club wasn’t going to survive. Cops were sniffing around. Wars with other MCs and a local gang over turf almost destroyed the entire operation.
Copper hauled the club away from that shit. He opened a few legitimate businesses, a garage, a bar, a strip club, and eventually Zach’s gym. One of the guys even owned a private security gig. Of course, as an outlaw MC, they didn’t do everything on the shiny side of the law. Loan sharking, money laundering, and a fair amount of muscle for hire kept the club lubed with plenty of cash.
Done with his work for the evening, Zach stuffed the bat in his saddle bag and mounted his bike. The warm night was still young. Most of his brothers would be at the club’s bar, the Double H. After drinking for a few hours and collecting women, the party would move to the clubhouse where it would become much more R and even X-rated in some cases.
Zach wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity to drink with his brothers and find a willing woman to kill a few hours with, but tonight he pointed his Harley toward his house. An uncomfortable restlessness crawled through him. Maybe it was letting Bill off with little more than a whack and a warning. Zach hadn’t had time to work out that day, either, too busy helping Prez with a problem.
Someone had roughed up a few of their strippers after hours behind the strip club, which was what had tied up most of Zach’s day. He’d worked to coordinate increased security while Copper and Maverick worked to discover who it was. Man, Zach wouldn’t want to be those assholes when the Hell’s Handlers caught up to them. And they would. Maverick could follow a trail better than a bloodhound.
When he was about five minutes out from his house, his Bluetooth chirped in his helmet. He tapped the button on the outside of the helmet, activating the phone. “Hey, brother, where the fuck are you?” Speak of the devil. Maverick’s voice filled his helmet. They’d prospected together for a about ten months until Maverick was voted in. He’d joined the club about a year before Zach.
“I just left Bill’s.”
Maverick laughed. “You leave any of his bones intact?”
With a snort, Zach hit the throttle and flew toward a yellow light. It switched to red about one second before his wheel hit the intersection. Eh, close enough. “Yeah he’s fine. Louie gave him a warning shot and I offered up some friendly advice. Dude can’t take much of a hit though. He was down and sniveling after just a love tap from Louie.”
“Sounds about right. That man’s softer than your mama’s tits. You meeting us at the Double H?” Maverick’s slurred voice sounded distracted. “Hold your fucking horses,” he whispered.
A feminine whine had Zach laughing. “What the hell do you need me there for? Sounds like you got yourself a plaything for the night.”
“Eh, she’s all right. A bit clingy, but, man, what an ass. We’re about to take off. Just wanted to let you know I wouldn’t be here in case you came ’round.”
“Thanks, brother. I’m heading home, anyway. Feel like I need to beat on the bag for a while, get some tension out. And watch out for the clinger. You might wake up tomorrow handcuffed to the bed with a marriage license waiting for your signature.”
Maverick snorted. “Like I’d stay till morning. You know, pounding pussy is better stress relief than pounding on a heavy bag, right?”
Most of the time Zach would agree, but for the past few weeks he’d been edgy. Bored, maybe. Suffering from same shit, different day syndrome. Sure, the pussy and tits might be new, but the air between their ears was the same. And it was getting routine. Maybe skipping a few nights of partying would get him back on track.
Or at least have him horny enough not to give a shit if he was bored.
“Not tonight, bro. You go enjoy your new toy. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” Zach coasted to a stop in his driveway. A man and woman were just climbing out of a car in the driveway next door. Dressed in a pair of tiny cutoffs and a fitted tank top that hugged her generous breasts and the gentle swell of her stomach, the woman shut her door and waited for the man to lock the car. Had to be the daughter of his next-door neighbors. Or former neighbors. They’d died in a wreck a few days ago.
“Your loss, brother.” Maverick disconnect the call.
Zach’s gaze drifted back to the neighbor. What was her name. Trisha? Tori? Something along those lines. They’d grown up next door to each other, but seeing as she was a handful of years younger, they weren’t exactly pals. He’d left for the army before she’d even been in high school, if he recalled correctly.
One thing was for certain, she’d sure grown up to be a looker. Big round eyes, the color of emeralds, had watched him coming and going a few times over the past week.
What he knew of her was based on a few flinty memories. She’d often sat in the bay window at the front of her parents’ house watching him and his friends make jackasses of themselves in high school.
Both her parents were prejudiced assholes who rarely let their daughter out of the house to have any fun. She was either at school, home, or working at the diner. Those green eyes had captivated him, even as a kid, but for a different reason than he was drawn to her now.
Back then, they held sadness and longing. Poor kid was probably starved for affection and friendship. Now, they made him imagine her down on her knees gazing up at him while his cock disappeared between her full lips.
One time, when he was home on deployment, he recalled his mother talking about the wild girl next door who’d gone into full-on rebellion mode in her teens. No surprise there. Most animals didn’t like to be kept in captivity and would tear their chains off for a bit of freedom.
She hadn’t made a move to walk up to the house yet but spoke in the driveway with the guy who’d driven her home.
Boyfriend? Husband? Who knew? What Zach did know, was that the guy looked like a giant snooze fest. He wore a perfectly pressed suit and had posture that spoke of money and a proper upbringing.
Snore.
The pair climbed the three steps up to the porch with the suit’s hand resting on her lower back. What a waste. If she were Zach’s woman, he certainly wouldn’t be taking a slow journey into the house, lightly touching her back. No, he’d have her thrown over his shoulder while he rushed them to the bed. Or better yet, he’d hold on to her ass while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Then they wouldn’t even have to make it to the bed; he could prop her right there against the front door and make her shatter the quiet night with her screams.
Damn, maybe he should have gone to the bar.
Trisha/Tori glanced over her shoulder as the dud unlocked the door. After scanning across her property, her gaze locked with Zach’s. Maybe she’d sensed his attention.
Even from yards away, the connection was like a punch to the gut. A little taste of what he’d given Bill a short time ago. She didn’t turn away, and his cock hardened under her watchful stare. Damn those intoxicating eyes. The rest of her made for an enticing package as well. Her hair was brown, or maybe blonde, he wasn’t sure. Maybe brown with blonde streaks, highlights or whatever chicks called that shit.
She wasn’t tiny, perhaps a smidge under five and a half feet, but at six one, he’d still tower over her. He’d always liked being with women significantly smaller than him. She wasn’t a twig, nor was she overweight. Just kind of soft and feminine. The kind of soft that would absorb a hard fucking very well.
Zach yanked his helmet off and hung it from the handlebar. He wanted her to know he was staring at her. Wanted to see her reaction when she realized where his mind had gone.
It didn’t disappoint. If she’d sensed his original gaze, she also sensed that his interest turned toward the erotic, because those beautiful cat eyes flared and she jerked her attention away.
As he dismounted his bike, Zach smiled. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so restless. But he did feel hot and bothered. Instead of spending time with the bag, it looked like he’d be hitting the shower for a little hand-to-cock action.
Maybe the neighbor girl would stick around for a while. She may have a boyfriend, but at the very least, she’d fuel some damn good fantasies.