Black Sheep (Rawkfist MC Book 1) (3 page)

Justice

A
few hours before heading to another day at
Rite-Rock Mart, I arrive at the Lipmann Storage. The units are located on the
south side of the town limits with a lot of trees and a seniors-only trailer
home community.

Walking inside,
I'm struck by cold air as a bell rings. While waiting for someone to appear, I
quickly run my fingers through my floppy bangs. My mind is so set on seeing
Court that I blink a few times before realizing a woman stands before me.

"Can I
help you?" she asks.

"Yes,
Margie," I say, reading her name tag. "I was supposed to drop
something off for Court. Is he here?"

Margie is a
short, round woman with vibrant green eyes. Based on her sympathetic
expression, she realizes I’m a stalker and worries for my long-term mental
stability.

"No, dear.
He's running errands. You can leave whatever it is here with me, and I'll pass
it along."

"That's
kind of you, but I'm only supposed to give it to him. Do you know when he'll be
back?"

Margie studies
me with her pretty eyes, and I can't help wondering if she was a real
heartbreaker in her youth. I bet back in high school that all of the guys
wanted a piece of Margie. She has the looks of a girl who started out shiny
like a diamond, but the raw deal of life dulled her sparkle. Christine
sometimes has that look about her too.

"Look,
I'll be straight with you. Court doesn't spend much time in the office. If you
want to talk with him, you'd be better off looking at TR's Jug most nights of
the week."

"Thanks,
Margie. You have a great day."

Returning to my
car, I begin driving before I know where I'm heading. Am I so desperate for
this particular man's attention that I'll chase him down so obviously?

Yes, I am but
not today. I decide to arrive at work early and study up on the business. My
go-getter attitude gets the attention of the two on-duty clerks. The redhead's
name keeps escaping me, even though she's the hard worker.

The stuck-up
bitch's name is Melly, and she tells me more than once not to call her
"jelly." I politely inform her both times how I have no frigging urge
to refer to her with a silly name. After all, we're not friends. I'm the
manager, and she's one of my employees. The second time, she gets the point and
sulks. I relish the sad look on her face. I'm a cruel bitch that way.

I'm doing
inventory in the chips aisle when a Harley pulls into the parking lot. My heart
doesn't pitter patter, and I don't think of Court. Jared said the Rawkfist MC
counted thirty people in their core ranks. He also said riding motorcycles was
a favored pastime of the local senior set. No reason to expect Court to come
looking for me especially when I'm the stalker in our non-relationship.

Redhead girl is
at the front counter when someone asks for me. I hear her direct the man in my
direction. He thanks her, even using her name. I know that voice, and now my
heart does pitter patter.
How's my hair? Is he angry? Do I have lunch in my
teeth? Will he mock me for stalking him? Is he as hot as I remember?

Yes, to the
last question anyway.

Court struts
over me to me, looking taller and wider than I remember. He's wearing a cocky
smile on his face, and his eyes are undressing me. I relish his swagger and
estimate the number of women who've creamed themselves silly over such a man.
As damp as my panties get, I want to keep my self-respect in check.

"It's Justice,
right?" he says, stopping about an inch too close to me to remain polite.

"Yes."

"You came
looking for me at work."

"Did I get
you in trouble? Should I speak to your employer?"

Court blinks a
few times, confused by my words. I don't know what he expected me to say. I
smile at his confusion.

"You're
playing with me,” he says, smiling now.

"I only
came by to thank you for helping me out the other day."

"Yeah,
about that," he says, shifting to his left and erasing the space between
us. "I might have come off a little ungrateful when you offered me
dinner."

"No
worries. I just assumed you were on your way to prison for a ten-year spell.
Was I wrong?"

Court shifts
again, sliding a few inches away in a smooth move. "Yeah, about that too.
I might have been under the impression you and your sister were high school
students."

"Oh, and
you didn't want to take advantage of a slutty slice of jailbait. That's real
gentlemanly of you, Court. So did you figure out the age goof somewhere between
when I dropped by your work and this very moment?"

Court
doesn't react to my words. He intensely
studies me with razor sharp brown eyes. I force my gaze to remain unflinching
when meeting his. As much as I hunger to lick this gorgeous man, I somehow
manage to keep my tongue firmly in neutral.

"Your dad
told me," he says, reaching out and stroking one of my blonde waves.

"Are you
in his club?"

"Yes. Does
that bother you?"

"Nothing
bothers me. I'm unflappable. It's why I'm a good manager."

Court gaze
lowers to my name tag and lingers in the vicinity.

"Is Court
your real name or did the club give you that?"

"My name
is Courtland, but I always hated it."

"Court
ain't much better," I say, finally luring his gaze away from my boobs.

"Justice
is cute. I like it," he murmurs. "Fits you real nice."

I lean forward
until our lips are mere inches apart. "Is this your way of saying you want
me to take you to dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Is my dad
okay with you sniffing around his seed?"

Court frowns at
my wording, catches up, and smiles. "He said you were the pick of the
litter."

"He's a
poet."

Grinning so
perfectly that I forget about the boob lusting he did earlier, Court steps
back.

"You busy
tonight?"

"Of
course. I'm not some pathetic loser sitting at home waiting for a man to show
up without any notice."

"Sorry.
What kind of notice do you need?"

"How about
we have dinner in two weeks?"

Court gives me
a weird look. I stare right back at him, unwilling to bow to his sexiness.

"You're
messing with me again," he finally says.

"Very much
so."

"Tonight
then?"

"No, my
ego demands you wait at least until tomorrow. After all, you thought I was in
high school."

"You do
look young."

"I'll also
look young when I'm old. You should keep that in mind if you're the sort to
think long term."

Court steps
back. "I'm going to have to watch myself with you, aren't I?"

"Oh, most
definitely," I say, sharing his smile. "Do you know my address?"

"I'll pick
you up at six, yes?"

"Yes."

Court gives me
a sly side-glance before disappearing down the aisle and out of the door. I
listen to the Harley roar in the parking lot but don't trust myself to look out
of the window. I've successfully aced our conversation while standing mere
inches away from the sexiest slice of hunk I've drooled over in my twenty-three
years. I'm surprised I don't need a shower, and a simple splash of cold water
in the restroom is enough to cool me down.

Today, I played
everything perfectly. I suspect doing so tomorrow will likely prove my undoing.

Court

M
y roommate Chucky is always high. Every
morning, he wakes up, smokes pot on the toilet while taking his morning piss,
and wanders out for breakfast fully baked. The redheaded, freckled pizza
delivery man stays that way the entire day.

I don’t think I
can remember a time when he wasn’t stoned, and we’ve been friends since our
fourth-grade teacher made us sit together.

Returning home
from visiting my son, Felix, I walk into the three-bedroom apartment to find
Chucky and his sometimes live-in girlfriend, Basil, on the floor in front of
the couch. They’re giggling about something on the TV.

The overly made-up
blonde waitress looks at me and smiles widely. I notice lipstick on her teeth
and think to say something. Keeping my mouth shut, I assume Chucky will lick
her clean soon enough.

“No Felix?”
Basil asks.

“Nope. He
wanted to hang out with his friends.”

“Already
getting replaced, eh, Pop?” Chucky says, laughing. “That’s gotta burn the
soul.”

I have no doubt
99 percent of the human population would hate these idiots. I ought to avoid
them too, now that I’m a father, but Chucky is loyal to a fault. If someone
took a shot at me, I know he’d jump in the way. Of course with his druggy
reflexes, he wouldn’t jump fast enough, but the thought is what counts in life.

“The kid needs
friends. I’d hate for him to be so lonely that he hangs out with a ginger and
his trailer trash harlot.”

“Harlot?” Basil
dreamily asks. “I like that. Sounds classy.”

Grinning at
them, I check my mail and wonder what Justice is doing right then. I know she
just moved to town so maybe she’s unpacking. She might be running around town
with her sisters, picking up strange men who I’d need to kill. I’m already
feeling rather possessive of a girl I barely I know.

“Wanna come
along to my niece’s party tomorrow?” Basil asks. “She’s legal now and super
cute, and she thinks you’re the bomb.”

“I have a
date.”

“With who?”

“Whom,” Chucky
corrects.

“What?”

They giggle at
their misunderstanding, and I assume they’ll forget we’re speaking. I’m okay
with the silence. I’d rather hang out in my room and watch sports. I need to
take my mind off Justice or else I’ll be ready to pop the minute I see her
again.

“Whom are you
going out with?” Basil asks, having stretched out behind Chucky on the couch.

“She’s one of
Jared’s daughters.”

“I’m hoping
it’s the hot one,” Chucky says, collapsing on the floor. “
Seinfeld
wears
me out, man.”

“What’s her
name?” Basil asks, stumbling toward me. “Is she cool?”

“Justice and I
think so, yeah.”

“Don’t be shy.”

“I’m not
looking to gossip.”

“You should
give it a try. Gossiping is the bomb.”

Basil thinks
everything is the bomb.

“Where are you
taking her?”

“A rib joint,”
is my answer since I don’t want these two showing up to check us out.

“Is she
pretty?”

“Yes.”

“Is she
beautiful?” she teases. “Do you dream of her?”

“Wet dreams,”
Chucky says with his eyes closed. “That’s how I dream of you, baby.”

“Ah, that’s
sweet.”

The sad thing
is Basil isn’t the sarcastic type. She wouldn’t understand half of what Justice
says.

“You might want
an out,” Chucky announces.

“A what?”

“You need a
reason to keep the date short, just in case shit ain’t going good. Make her
also know you’re a busy fucking playa and she needs to know her place.”

“He ain’t
wrong,” Basil says.

“He’s rarely
right, though.”

“Being right is
overrated. I’d rather just be.”

“That sounds
plenty Zen and all, but I’d rather be right.”

“Does that mean
you’re going to have an out?”

Touching my arm
forever burned by her touch, I frown. “I don’t think lying to Justice is such a
good idea. Not with her dad looking over my shoulder.”

I don’t care
what Jared says about staying out of shit. I know men like him. He has a sphere
of influence. His family, work, club, and town belong to him. The more he cares
about something, the less he’ll back off. Justice is his kid, and he’ll track
her every move. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the sneaky fucker didn’t
already know about Justice’s stolen wallet before I told him.

Like Jared, I
keep my feelings close to the vest. Chucky is my best friend and Basil has been
attached at his hip for five years. I know these people, but I don’t gossip.
Not back in the day with my shit relationship with Becca and not now with a new
chance with a new girl.

Even if I were
the gossipy type, I’d stay quiet about Justice. Something about the motor-mouth
blonde makes me suspect I have no idea what I’m getting into.

Justice

C
ourt
makes quite an impressive image roaring up to the house. Poppy watches him from
the window and whispers to our cat Thelma how the scary man is going to pound
my vagina soon. Less curious, Journey stands in the kitchen with Christine.

"Be home
by midnight," Christine says.

Everyone laughs
at her comment while Hal growls at the approaching Harley and does his agitated
doggy dance.

"No
worries," Poppy tells the dog. "Justice likes danger. That's why she
cries on roller coasters."

Checking my
appearance in the mirror at the front door, I smile at Poppy's comments. Was I
such a horror show at fifteen?

"Did you
take the pill?" Poppy asks, stopping me at the door. "There’s no room
in this house for your bastard offspring."

"Don't be
jealous of my hot date. One day, you'll find a boy horny enough to deal with
your big mouth."

"Promise?"
Poppy asks, laughing at her fake sincerity.

Brushing her
aside, I grab my bag and reach for the doorknob.

"Yay for
me," I say to my family.

"Yay for
you," they say back.

I walk outside
to where Court turns off his Harley and gives me the once over.

"Like what
you see?" I ask, turning around to show off my black jeans and a red
flannel vest top.

"Wouldn't
be here, if I didn't."

"Why,
aren't you the charmer," I say, stepping closer to the Harley. "Nice
hog but I wonder. Are you a good driver? Like do you have any points on your
license?"

"You're
kidding, right?"

I caress the
Harley's handle. "I'm not interested in dying young. In fact, I’m looking
forward to dying of old age in my bed a million years from now."

"I bet
you'll be a sexy old broad," he says, leaning over and tugging at a lock
of my short wavy hair.

"Oh, I
know I will be, but you didn't answer me about being a good driver."

"I ride
with my kid. Wouldn't do that if I wasn't a good driver."

"Kid?"
I say, stepping back. "How old? Not still in diapers, is it?"

Court furrows
his brow, making him handsome in a new way. "He rides on my Harley, so how
could he still be in diapers?"

"I don't
know babies."

"He's
eleven."

"Oh,
that's fine. I'm okay with that age. Now how do I climb on this thing without
injuring myself?"

"What if
my boy was a baby? Would you still want to climb on my hog?"

Focusing on his
face, I find him somewhere between genuinely offended and redneck flirting.

"How do I
know? I don't think things out that way. I just do what I'm gonna do. Since
you've neglected to explain how to climb on your hog, I might injure you. Be a
doll and don't cry if I squish your balls."

"Man,
you're seductive. All flowers and heart-shaped candies," he says, wrapping
a hand under my bicep and swinging me behind him.

I settle my
thighs behind his. "Cool trick."

"Figured
you'd be impressed."

I lean forward
and slide my hands around his waist. "I guess you do a lot of
crunches," I murmur and then pat his hard gut. "Where do you want my
hands?"

Court glances
back over his shoulder. "Do you really have to ask?"

"If I hold
it, can I pretend the Harley is a stick shift, and I'm driving?"

Court laughs
deeply. "On second thought, keep your hands to yourself."

Laughing too, I
grip his loose white tee and lean my cheek against his sweaty back. He smells
like heat and soap. I flinch when the Harley starts with a ferocious rumbling
but instantly relax once we reach the highway leading us to town.

I don't know
where we're eating, and I don't particularly care. Life is about knowing when
to let go and when to hold on. Right now, I'm doing both.

We ride along
the quiet roads, and I trust Court will bring me home safely. Or at least I trust
my dad will kill him if the date ends badly. Revenge sounds nice, and I imagine
Jared as Liam Neeson hunting down the bad guys
Taken
-style. Despite the cool
imagery in my head, I'm essentially fantasizing about a movie where I'm the
victim, and that's just weird.

We stop at
Rolling Roni’s Ribs, and I'm instantly struck by the scent of slow-cooking
meat. My stomach growls while I stumble off of the Harley. An amused Court
studies me as I regain my land legs.

"Weird to
think Jared's kid can't ride bitch on a bike without looking..."

"Looking
what?" I ask, giving him a dark glare. "Pace yourself carefully here,
bud."

Grinning, Court
climbs off the Harley and fixes a wild clump of my hair.

"Looking
prettier than sin is what I was gonna say."

"Oh, I
know it was," I say, giving him a grin.

Court and I
walk past lines of cars and bikes plus two motor homes. Feeling bold, I take
his hand. He doesn't even look at me. Mister Too Cool for School won't let go
of my hand, though.

"Is this
your first date headquarters?" I ask as he opens the door for me.

"Oh, yeah.
I bring all the ladies here. I have little tests prepared too. I should have
warned you to study up."

Squeezing his
hand, I smile up at him. "I'm so excited to see my prize if I pass."

Court grins.
"You should be. It's huge."

"It’s a
good thing I brought a ruler then."

Laughing, Court
barely acknowledges the waitress leading us to a booth. I slide across from him
and take in the atmosphere. The place is rough from the battered leather booths
to the celebrity mug shots on the walls. Overhead, speakers play blues and
country. The menu is all meat with a few afterthoughts side dishes.

"This
place makes you sexier," I say, teasing the perspiration drops on my
glass. "Smart move bringing chicks here."

"I'm a
smart guy."

"I see
that."

I order a half
rack of ribs while he wants an entire rack. After he shows me the various spicy
sauces on the table, Court just watches me. I watch him back, and we fall into
a staring contest. Wanting to win so badly, I finally lick my lips slowly and
force him to lower his gaze.

"Men,"
I say, smiling triumphantly.

"I
considered cheating too, but I’ve got honor."

"Save your
self-pity," I tease, reaching across the table to take his hand. On his
wrist, I find five small X tattoos. "Does that mean you've killed five
people?"

Court says
nothing, and I think maybe I was too right. Giving him an out, I run my finger
over the tattoos.

"Or is
five the number of women you've slept with?"

A smile slides
slow and sexy across his handsome face. "Five? Sure, baby, if that's what
makes you happy."

"The funny
thing is, stud, five is the number of chicks I've banged too."

Court's smile grows,
and I suspect another part of him does too. "Really?"

"Sure,
baby, if that's what makes you happy."

"You're a
funny chick. Your dad is funny too."

"His
mustache is better."

"Yeah, but
you're young. Give yourself a few years to let it grow in."

Stroking my
non-existent mustache, I share his grin.

"What's
with all your rings?" I ask, running my fingers over his. "Are you
high-maintenance?"

"Little
bit, yeah."

"What
about the chick you made a baby with? Did you ever make an honest woman out of
her?"

Court gives me
a smile, but his eyes radiate irritation. "A million guys could marry
Becca, and there'd still never be anything honest about her."

"Meow,"
I say, tracing the gem on one of his rings. "If she's so bad, why did you
plow her and make a kid?"

"I was
seventeen."

"So you'd
pretty much plow anyone, huh?"

Court grins. "Yeah,
basically."

"Are your
standards higher now?"

Court
takes my fingers in his hand. "I'm
here with you, aren't I?"

Staring into
his dark eyes, I smile. "I think I need new panties."

"Yeah,
that happens around me a lot. You'll want to carry a few extras around with you
when we go out."

I pop my hand
free from his and lean back. "What's your son's name?"

"Felix."

I stare into
his eyes, nodding at the stupid name.

"I didn't
name him," Court adds.

"Hey, no
harm if you did. I mean, your name is Courtland."

Narrowing his
eyes, he shakes his head. "Big talk coming from a chick named Justice."

"Well, it
could be worse. I could be named Journey."

Court laughs in
a sexy rough voice, sending a shiver of heat through me. This time, I really do
need new panties.

"Don't you
have a sister named Poopy?"

Now I'm
laughing. "Her name is Poppy, and it's just a nickname. My step-dad named
her Pauline after him and my mom Christine. Mom hated the name and started
calling her Poppy when she was a baby. By the way, Poppy is a kind of
flower."

"Still a
stupid name."

"Sure but
I dare you to say that to her face. She's a moody fifteen-year-old, and she'll
likely cut you for insulting her."

"I never
talk shit to people's faces. I'm a backstabber, meaning you got to turn around
when I fuck you over."

"Good to
know."

Court's smile
fades when the waitress drops off our food. I don't think he wants her to stick
around and make small talk. Once she leaves, he focuses his intense gaze on me.

"You're a
real good looking woman, Justice."

"I know.
You're really pretty too, Court."

A smile warms
his face, and the intensity leaves his expression. He digs into his food,
ignoring me verbally, but I catch his gaze on me a lot while I get sloppy with
my ribs.

"Tell me
about Felix," I say when we finally stop going carnivore on our dinner.

Court wipes
sauce from his fingers. "He's a good boy. A little scrawny but I was too
at that age."

"Is he
into sports or video games?"

"A little
of both."

"Is he a
nerd?" I ask, grinning. "Do you have a little nerd at home?"

Court shakes
his head and grins. "You're just a pain in the ass, aren't you?"

"Little
bit."

"He does
okay at school. I wouldn't say he's going to be a hot shit scholar, but he'll probably
want to go to college and not the community sort either."

"Fancy.
Does he have your eyes?"

Court
focuses his red-hot gaze on me again, and I
feel under his control.
Hypnotism is divine.

"Felix
looks like me a lot actually. Has his mom's chin, though."

"Is that
code?"

"For
what?"

"A witch’s
chin or something. Why else would anyone care about his chin?"

"I don't
know. People always say that about Felix. He looks like me but has Becca's
chin."

"Oh, well,
women don't care about a guy's chin."

"I know a
guy with a cleft in his chin and girls go gaga over that shit. He has a damn
dimple too."

"Court,
baby, no one cares about a damn chin if the rest of the package ain't banging.
I'm betting your friend is hot, and the chin is just a bow on top of the present."

"I guess I
don't have that bow."

"You don't
need it. Besides, dimples and cleft chins are weird. I always figured God dented
those people during the cooking process."

Court laughs.
"I like that."

"Dimples
isn't your friend, is he?"

"He's
alright, but I've punched people for less than he irritates me."

"Am I
irritating you?" I ask, batting my eyes.

"Fucking
hell yeah you are and on purpose too," he announces, giving me a sly grin.
"I like it, though. I don't like quiet girls. They make me nervous."

"Cut you
when you're not looking, huh?"

"Probably."

"You like
them bitchy like Becca."

"No, I
like bitchy like you. Not the nasty bitchy like Becca."

"Did you
love her?"

"No."

"Did you
date for long?"

"A few
years."

"But you
never loved her.”

"She's my
kid's mom, so I cared about her."