Chapter Six
Clint
After watching Jo run to her room, I went back out to the garage and added fifty more pounds to the bar. I knew it was too much weight, but I didn’t care. I lay down on the bench and tried to lift it.
How could I have been so fucking stupid? Of course she didn’t want to jeopardize her job. But she was beautiful and made me so hard I lost all train of thought. I groaned. I was her boss. I didn’t want to put her in a position where she thought her job was endangered, but I just had. I’d held her against me and kissed her. I’d felt every inch of her perfect body as I held her against me, and I wanted more.
Struggling, I was finally able to lift the bar a few inches, but I had to put it back down before I lost control.
Fuck. I just needed to remember to keep my distance and not touch her again. Easier said than done when I could still feel her tight little breasts brushing my chest.
I gave up on the weights and went to bed. There was no way I could fall asleep. I jacked off and started to fall asleep, but then a buzzing noise woke me up. I started to sit up, thinking it was my phone. Then it hit me. She had a goddamn vibrator—I wasn’t the only one practicing self-care tonight. I wondered if she was thinking of me.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
* * *
In the morning, I got up at the crack of fucking dawn. That was my usual routine. I carried my boots through the kitchen so I wouldn’t wake up Nana or Jo. On my way out, there was a yellow Post-it on the refrigerator. Jo had left me a note.
I need Wednesday off.
That explained why she was up last night. She wanted to ask me for time off. I wrote a quick yes and stuck it on the fridge.
After stuffing the note in my pocket, I headed in to work. It was a rough day all around. We got two new customers and one needed an entire rebuild but didn’t want to pay for it. It was a Chapel day, when the whole club got together and discussed business. By the time I got to Chapel to meet up with the guys, my attention span was shot to hell. Everyone was listening to Tate talk about...something. I was still focused on how badly I’d fucked up with Jo last night. I’d fucking kissed her and then when I asked her out, she turned me down because I was her boss. She was a hell of a lot smarter than me.
“Clint?” Tate asked. “What do you think about heading down to the docks?”
“The docks?” I repeated. What the hell had he just asked? “Sure thing.”
Tate nodded at me and banged the gavel. Chapel was over and I had an assignment down at the docks, and I didn’t know what it was. Fuck. I followed the guys out and headed for the bar.
“Hey, get a move on,” Tate called after me. “Connor is only on customs duty until midnight. Our shipment is coming in late. You should leave now.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what the hell the shipment was because I had no clue. But I was supposed to be paying attention. That would tell Tate just how much I was daydreaming in Chapel. I couldn’t even ask the guys, because it probably had something to do with the import business. I couldn’t be the one in charge and not know what we were picking up at the docks. Damn. I kept my mouth clamped shut and went to find Roach.
He and I took the tow truck. The club had a few paid parking lots around Tacoma and we often towed people who didn’t pay their bill. It also came in handy when you didn’t know what you were picking up at the docks.
“So, do you know if it’s a car or a bike, at least?” Roach asked from the passenger seat.
“Not a clue,” I grumbled. Only full patch members were allowed in Chapel, so Roach was in the dark too. “We gotta be prepared for anything.”
We pulled out of the club’s parking lot and turned toward the docks. Conner, our contact, was a federal customs agent. I’m sure Uncle Sam paid him well, but it was our extra cash on the side that supported some of his more unsavory habits. When we got to the customs office, he dug through paperwork on his desk for our shipment. He obviously hadn’t showered in a few days and just looked like he was one step away from being homeless.
“It’s listed as electronics,” he said, peering at some form he’d fished from his desk. “My Korean ain’t so good.” He thrust the paperwork at me.
Looking at the faded pink carbon copy, I couldn’t read anything on it. “So, no clue?” I asked. “Not even a hint?”
“Probably a car.” Conner shrugged. “I got it delivered to E5 for ya, though. Nice and quiet.”
E5 was our delivery point at the docks. We could get the tow truck in there pretty easily and the other customs agents stayed away. Whenever Conner received a shipment for us, he stashed it in that area until we could pick it up.
Roach and I drove the tow truck over to the designated area and threw it into park. After grabbing the bolt cutters out of the back, Roach stood off to the side as I cut the lock.
“All right, man, this is like goddamn Christmas.” Roach rubbed his hands together as I yanked open the door on the shipping container.
As soon as I had the hatch open, Roach was in there and crawling around. “I think it’s a Lambo!” he yelled from the back of the dark container.
Turning on my flashlight, I started to inspect our new project. As soon as the light ran over the front fender, I let out a low whistle. “Holy shit,” I said to myself.
“Nice little Lambo, huh?” Roach asked, joining me next to the front wheel.
“It’s not just a Lambo,” I said, my flashlight beam caressing the funny little telltale mirrors on the top of the doors. “It’s a 1999 Diablo SV with a fucking Strosek conversion.” I paused, letting it sink in. “This is one of the fastest cars Lamborghini has ever made, and it’s sure as shit not street legal here.”
I couldn’t help myself—I rounded the front and headed directly for the driver’s side door. It was unlocked with the keys in the ignition. After moving the seat back, I got in. My jeans slid against the butter-soft leather of the seats. It was the same feeling you get when your dick slides into a beautiful woman. I groaned. Once I got seated, I ran my fingers over the steering wheel, then the gearshift—manual—and finally the steering column. Holy shit. She was one fine piece of machinery.
There was no way she was getting a tow. I was gonna drive her back to the garage myself.