When I show up at my place to grab some clothes and shit before church, Alix’s car is gone and she’s nowhere to be found.

At first, I think she’s changed her mind about staying here and she’s skipped town. I call out her name as I stride through he living room, swearing loudly in the silent house. I’m pissed at myself for not getting her cell number before I left the house today. Stupid mistake, you dumb fucker. You should have known there was a chance she might run after last night. My mind is racing wildly, wondering how the fuck I’m going to figure out where she’s gone, when I stop suddenly at the doorway to the second bedroom.

There, sitting on the dresser, are some small travel bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a paperback, and a hairbrush.

The sight of such ordinary objects — just the normalcy of how they look sitting there — calms me down almost immediately.

I take a deep, relieved breath and open the top drawer of the dresser. A few shirts, a couple pairs of panties, some socks.

In the bathroom, the simple white dress is still drying on the towel rack.

“Jesus,” I mutter, running a rough hand through my short hair. I’m a little weirded out by how worried I was that she’d left. I go into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Glancing over to the counter of the kitchen island, I notice the scrap of paper I wrote my number on.

Rummaging in a nearby drawer for a pen, I scrawl a quick note under the number:

This way, I kill three birds with one stone. She’ll know she’s safe staying here tonight; I’ll know when she comes back here; and I’ll get her phone number, which I should have fucking done in the first place.

Going back down the hall to my room, I grab a small duffel bag and fill it with a couple of changes of clothes to take with me. Then I head over to the clubhouse.

Later, in church, Rock goes over the final details of the run we’ll be doing with the Death Devils, including which of us will be going. The run is no more dangerous than usual, as far as gun exchanges are concerned, but Oz has asked for six Lords to back up his club. Rock chooses which ones of us will go. He’s not coming with us, as having two MC presidents there might be perceived as a challenge to Oz’s authority and a sign of weakness in front of their connections, especially because they used to do business with us. Angel is going with us in his place.

Rock tells us what time we’ll be heading out the next day. Then he bangs the gavel, and church is over.

“The men seem pretty keyed up about this run,” Angel observes as we file out of the chapel.

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “I think some of them miss the thrill of gun running.”

“You?” Angel asks, cutting his eyes to me with a grin.

“I can’t deny, booze and pussy taste especially good when there’s a little danger on the other side.”

Angel laughs out loud. “You got that right. Matter of fact,” he continues, eyeing a couple of the club whores, “I think I’m gonna test out that theory right now.”

He ambles over to Melanie and Tammy, who are more than pleased to get the attention of the club’s esteemed vice-president. They immediately jump to their feet and teeter toward him on their heels, hands sliding under his leather cut and over the crotch of his jeans. Angel grabs each of them by the ass and then nods toward the stairs leading to the apartments on the second floor. On the way, he nabs a bottle of whiskey from the bar to take up with him.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Heather’s voice croons in my ear. “Wanna do likewise?”

“Heather,” I mutter, “this ain’t anything other than…”

“I know, I know,” she smirks prettily. “I’ll take what I can get.” Turning up the corners of her cherry-red lips in a seductive little smile, she breathes, “I need your cock, Gunner. Give me what I need, baby.”

It’s not really what I want — because truth be told, what I want is more of Alix. But I tell myself that the best way to get that girl out of my mind is to remind myself that Alix was just sex, nothing more. No matter how fucking good it was.

A little roughly, I grab Heather’s arm and lead her upstairs, trying to ignore her little coos of excitement. When we get up there, I pull her into my apartment and shut the door. Immediately, she’s down on her knees, unzipping my fly.

I close my eyes and frown, trying to push Alix out of my thoughts.

But all that happens is her face appears right in front of me. Her eyes flutter closed, her arms wrapping around my neck as she whispers, “Yes…”

My cock is immediately hard as a steel bat. Which Heather attributes to her feminine wiles.

“Oh, baby,” she moans. “Yeah, I’ve missed your cock…”

Fuck. I’m not up for this. The last thing I want right now is Heather sucking me off, much as I hate to admit it.

I pull her up forcefully, ignoring her cry of protest, and haul her to her feet. “Sorry, babe, ain’t happening tonight.”

“But why!” she mewls in protest. “You know you want me.” She reaches out and palms my hard shaft. “I can make you feel so good, Gunner. You know how good I can make you feel…”

“Enough!” I grab her wrist so abruptly she yelps a little. “I said we’re done here.” I nod my head toward the door. “Get out,” I say angrily.

“But…”

“Out!”

With a last reproachful glance, Heather wobbles out the door on her stilettos and closes it behind her. I almost feel bad. I’m not exactly angry at her, though she’s not very good at taking no for an answer.

I’m mad at myself.

For fucking Alix in the first place.

And for thinking Heather — or any other girl — would be just as good. Like Alix was just another place to stick my dick.

Alix is way fucking more than that.

And if I’m not careful, she’s gonna be an addiction.

Locking the door, I check my phone, but she hasn’t texted me yet. I frown and try to turn my thoughts to something else, but it’s no use. I’m still painfully hard, and that ain’t gonna change by itself.

I liberate my pulsing cock from my jeans and lean against the wall, closing my eyes. I know I shouldn’t do this and think of her, but fuck it. I’m too far gone. I stroke myself, as slowly as I can stand it, and imagine instead that I’m pushing myself deep inside Alix as she moans and writhes for me. I can hear her voice, hear that hitch in her throat before she cries out and starts bucking against me. Jesus. That’s all it takes. With a loud groan I shoot my load, the force of it almost painful.

This is bad, I think when it’s all over.

Staying away from Alix is gonna be a lot harder than I thought.

Back downstairs, I ignore Heather’s attempts to make me jealous by falling all over any Lord who’ll give her a second glance. I decide I’m gonna concentrate on drinking away my troubles. I grab a bottle of Jack and a shot glass from Jewel and go over to smoke Lug Nut at pool a couple of times.

Midway through the first game, I finally get a text from Alix. But it’s not what I expect.

Instead of texting back, I punch the call back number and wait for her to pick up. She answers on the second ring.

“What’s up?” I growl.

“I’m stuck out here on the highway,” her apologetic voice comes over the line. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with my car, but it’s overheated and I don’t have any water or anything to put in it. And it’s starting to get dark. Could you come pick me up?”

“Out where?” I repeat. “Where are you?”

Alix hesitates. “I’m on Highway Twelve,” she finally tells me. “About fifteen miles west of the Smiling Skull.”