Czech Variation of Louis: Ludko

➸ Glitch ★

I don’t sleep much the night before leaving for Little Memphis. My mind races with thoughts of Clove ditching me to return to a shithole where her anger has an outlet. I wish I could fix her problem, but I’m not that guy. If a situation can’t be fixed with booze, beatings, or banging, I’m at a fucking loss.

That morning, when Clove opens the door to her place, I’m struck again by her natural beauty. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, showing off her glowing tawny skin. Clove smells fantastic, and my dick thickens as I inhale her fruity scent.

“I’m packed up and ready to haul ass to Little Memphis,” she says, sliding into her leather jacket. “Do you need anything before we get moving?”

Her relaxed tone sounds forced, and I don’t respond immediately. Forcing her to stew, I watch Clove’s gaze instantly shift from fake tranquil to pissed.

“What?” she asks.

“You look too sexy. I had to let blood return to my brain. Now that it has, let’s go.”

Clove’s frown wavers but never fades. She doesn’t buy my dick excuse. Not knowing what she wants me to say, I keep my mouth shut.

Soon, we’re in the parking lot, climbing on our Harleys. Clove takes out her phone and sighs. “You know the way, but if we get separated, I’m texting you the hotel address where we’ll meet in Little Memphis.”

“Why would we get separated?”

“You drive like a girl,” she says and slides her phone into her back pocket. Giving me a smirk, she revs her engine and says, “Try to keep up, pretty boy.”

Clove’s Harley bolts from the parking lot with me right behind her. More than once, I cut in front of her bike just to make a point. Whenever I do, I hear her laughter behind me.

We make decent time to Blairsville—a.k.a. Little Memphis—only hitting traffic around the exit to real Memphis. Two off-ramps before the one we’re aiming for, Clove pulls in front of me so I can see her turn signal and know she’s exiting the highway. I follow her down the off-ramp and stop next to her Harley in the parking lot of a McDonald’s.

“Thought we’d grab a bite before we do the meet-and-greets with the Little Memphis club and crew.”

Glancing around the area, I see more than a few people giving us the evil eye. I don’t know if it’s the Harleys, Clove’s exotic ethnicity, or my good looks, but we’re riling up the natives.

“They’re worried,” Clove says and leans against me with her lips upward, “Little Memphis trash has spilled out onto their nothing town. It’s always like this,” she says and lifts one hand out to flip off the looky-loos. Clove never glances at them. Instead, her gaze locks onto mine until my lips meet hers.

Once inside, we order matching Big Mac meals and sit across from each other as if a couple on a date.

I squirt ketchup next to my fries and admit, “I’m glad we have a few minutes to chill before rushing into business.”

“Did Oz give you any advice on dealing with Joker?”

“He said to be friendly, agree to nothing, and keep everything vague.”

Clove sips her soda and leans closer. “Ginger and Oz ought to be the ones making this trip, but he can’t tolerate sharing a room with a man who fucked his woman. No way will Madden stand down to make nice with Oz, so those two were bound to spill blood. As much as I’d like to see Oz fuck up the Little Memphis pretty boy, Ginger was having none of it.”

“What’s your problem with pretty boys?”

Clove gives me a sexy grin. “Stop your whining. It’s not like I don’t ride my pretty boy harder than my Harley.”

“We’re good for more than just riding, you know?” I mutter, faking as if my precious fucking feelings are hurt when my real problem is the erection her teasing smiles give me.

“I hadn’t heard that. What kind of skills are we talking about?”

“I fixed up your place real sweet like, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” she says and pops a fry in my mouth. “But we already knew you were good with your hands.”

“That kind of house fixing takes brains too.”

“I’ll take your word for that.”

When Clove’s gaze leaves me and remains gone, I ask, “Are you nervous about being back here?”

“No,” she says instantly. “I thrive on danger and misery. Safety and happiness are what trips me up.”

I don’t know how to respond to her words because they make no fucking sense. I did six months in prison on a minor assault charge when I was eighteen. Those six months sucked so damn hard, and I couldn’t wait to be free and relaxed again.

Thinking back, I did know guys with years, even decades, behind bars, and they couldn’t deal with the chaos of freedom. Prison provides rules, expectations, and the predictability of lacking power. A few of those guys broke laws once free, just to return to a life that fits them.

Clove’s old life was her prison, and Rawlins represents freedom. Even if it kills me, I’ll make her fall in love with freedom as deeply as I’ve fallen in love with her.