Nick

Sitting in jail wasn’t something I ever yearned for. Each time it happened, however, it caused me to appreciate the small things in my life that I had been taking for granted. It seemed having them stripped away – along with my freedom – was a bit of a reality check.

“So she didn’t even hesitate?” I asked.

“I’m fuckin’ tellin’ ya.” Pee Bee grinned and shook his head. “She just kinda volunteered.”

I shook my head. “She’s a good woman.”

“Best one I ever met. Smart bitch, too. She was tellin’ me about laws and what they could and couldn’t do to you. I’m tellin’ ya, she’s got her shit wired tight.”

I leaned against the work bench. “I’m thinking about taking her to dinner. Doing something nice with her. Letting her know how much I appreciate it.”

I didn’t need Peeb’s approval, but I wanted it. I took a drink of beer and waited.

“You should probably take her to dinner and then throw her some dick. Maybe instead of fuckin’ her in the shop, you should do it at your house.”

I chuckled. “You think dicking her at the shop’s a bad idea?”

He shook his head. “Givin’ her some cock in the shop ain’t no big deal, Crip. But chicks want dicked on somethin’ soft every now and again.”

“On something soft?”

He finished his beer and got another from the fridge. “A bed, in the yard, on the couch. Hell, even in the back seat of a car. They like it. Take her out to eat and then give her some cock on somethin’ squishy.”

“Something squishy.” I laughed. “I’ll look into that.”

Pee Bee – which stood for Pretty Boy – was a former USC football player. Although he had a college education, one would never really know it from talking to him. It was obvious that the mainstream idea of an education was not what he walked away with during his tenure as a student.

His heart was huge, his devotion to the club was undeniable, and he was – if anyone was – my best friend. He was a very handsome man. So handsome, that immediately following college he was chosen to be on a reality television show.

From time-to-time, he was recognized by someone in a bar – generally a woman. The conversations seemed to always start with do I know you from somewhere, and ended with Pee Bee balls-deep in yet another stranger.

Obtaining his advice on what women wanted seemed out of place. But he was one of the few men I trusted.

His eyes dropped to his boots for a moment. After some thought, he met my gaze. “I need to do somethin’ for her too, just haven’t decided what.”

“Why’s that?”

“Told her if she got you out of jail, I owed her one. A big one.”

“Well, aren’t you fuckin’ sweet.” I said sarcastically. “Just remember--”

I paused, and tried to decide whether or not to continue my thought. Before I had a chance to do so, he read my mind.

“I ain’t gonna touch her.”

I nodded. “Last fuckin’ thing I need is some split-tail hangin’ around. She’s uhhm. She’s pretty entertaining, though.”

My phone beeped, indicating a text message had been received. Although I had a phone, I never really used it, nor did I have a desire to. If someone was sending me a text message, it was generally regarding being late for a meeting.

With no meeting scheduled, I was left believing the text must have been from Peyton.

Eager to see what she wanted, I grabbed my phone. After opening the text message screen, I saw one unread message.

But it wasn’t from Peyton.

It was from Pete.

“Motherfuckers!” I screamed. “God fucking fuck…”

“What?”

“I’m gonna kill…I’m going to kill all those motherfuckers!” I kicked the bench, sending shit flying everywhere.

My vision blurred, my ears started to ring, and I began to shake. “Fuuuuuuuuck!”

“What?” Pee Bee shouted.

I’d brought her into a world that she had no business in, and if something happened to her, it was on my shoulders.

I fought against the rising lump in my throat and tried to swallow, but couldn’t. I turned toward the safe. While I poked the tip of my finger against the keypad, I tried to explain the text to Pee Bee.

“Text’s from Pete. Can’t tell for sure, but it looks like the Savages are at Pete’s bar. They’ve got Pete’s gun, and they’ve--”

I swallowed heavily, pulled the door of the safe open, and grabbed two pistols – one of which was fitted with a silencer.

I pursed my lips and inhaled a long breath through my nose. My hands began to shake. “They’ve got the reporter.”

“Motherfuckers.” He grabbed the silenced pistol. “If they even touch her, I’ll kill the whole fucking club.”

You’ll have to beat me to it, Brother.