Wreck Me: Steel Talons MC (3 page)

BOOK: Wreck Me: Steel Talons MC
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CHAPTER
SEVEN

 

“Man, I’ve been running this engine and I’m almost out of gas. You owe me for that. Where the fuck have you been?” Willie’s anger did nothing to fix Jim’s mood, and Boxer sense the explosion waiting to happen.

 

As Jim grunted and climbed into the back, Boxer did what he’d earned his nickname for and punched Willie in the ear. “Shut up, dumbass. If you don’t start thinking before you run your mouth, you ain’t gonna live much longer.” Willie gave him a defiant look but said nothing else, and Jim was glad. He probably would have smashed the guy into the asphalt outside without thinking, and when he went to apologize later, all he’d find were some brains and a pile of broken bones and bloody mess.

 

Saved again
, he thought sarcastically. “Just get me home,” he grunted, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he thought about how incredibly stupid he’d been. If he wanted to get laid, there were plenty of women at the clubhouse who would jump at the opportunity. Had he really needed the satisfaction of this conquest, breaking a woman who thought she was better than him?

 

He punched the roof of the truck in frustration. “Hey!” Willie complained, but before Jim could stare him down, he heard the
oof
noise that meant Boxer had given him a good fist in the gut. Willie needed to watch his attitude, or Jim was going to have a fine time getting him stripped of his patch. The guy didn’t know his place anymore and had a bad habit of pissing people off.

 

Thank Christ his house wasn’t far from the hospital; ten minutes later, they pulled into his driveway. Jim jumped out practically before the truck came to a stop, instantly regretting it as he landed on the sore leg. He gritted his teeth and headed for the front door. He just wanted to be alone, and he cursed as Boxer followed him inside.

 

“Can’t you just get that retard out of here before he comes in and offends me again?” Jim called, not turning to look at Boxer. “I have every right to shoot him for trespassing on my own property, you know.” Jim hobbled to the kitchen and reached into the fridge for a beer, but found none. He popped the top on a can of Coke, pretending that the nonalcoholic beverage could wash away the memories of Susan’s luscious curves as well as a few shots of tequila could.

 

Boxer didn’t follow him into the kitchen—probably trying to stay out of the line of fire. “I reminded him of that in no uncertain terms, bud. If he steps one toe outside that rank truck, I’ll break it. Don’t worry.”

 

“Whatever. What the hell do you want?” Jim had a feeling he’d much prefer to hear what Boxer had to say in the morning. But it looked like he didn’t have a choice: Boxer leaned his ass against the dinner table and made himself comfortable.

 

“You fucked the medic, didn’t you?”

 

Jim laughed. “Yes, I did, but I’m not giving details, so go home.”

 

Boxer laughed shortly, staring at the toe of his boot. “Not healthy, man. I’m telling you, I think you should have just stayed at the party. Look at all the bullshit you could have avoided. Destroying your bike, tearing up your leg, hitting your head, and bumping uglies with some chick who thinks better of chopped liver than she does any of us.”

 

Jim made a face. “Get off your soapbox, bud. I can handle myself. It’s not like I meant to run off the road. I hit a slick spot and now I need some damn new tires.” He sipped his Coke. “Actually, the damn thing is totaled, which just gives me the green light to buy a whole new ride.”

 

“Don’t feed me that crap, Wade. You seriously think I don’t know what today is?” Boxer stood his full height and crossed his arms. Jim knew his intimidation tactic; it worked on pretty much all of their associates.

 

“Really? So do I. It’s Thursday. No, wait, it’s after midnight now, so it’s Friday. Pardon my mistake. What’s the point, bro?” Jim played stupid. He didn’t want to have this discussion. He should have known his partner would raise a stink about all this.

 

Boxer crossed his arms, looking ferocious as he stared down at Jim.

 

“You think you can intimidate me, Boxer?” Jim laughed. “I’ve known you since you were the kid on the playground everyone else bullied. I’m not afraid of you, so you might as well stand down, my man.”

 

“Admit it, Wade,” Boxer smirked. "All of this is about Trina.”

 

CHAPTER
EIGHT

 

Jim threw up his arms, feigning disdain. “See? This is why I left the party. I specifically wanted to avoid this whole conversation where you expect me to fucking bawl into my beer so you can pat me on the shoulder and tell me it wasn’t my fault and I need to move on. Does that about cover it? Because I don’t have any beer, bro, so the rest of the image just has to suffer a bit.”

 

Boxer dropped his arms but didn’t leave, and Jim wanted to throw an uppercut at his jaw. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the balance with his leg all messed up, so he just stood there, seething.

 

When the Boxer spoke, it was in a low tone, his voice quiet. “You’ve been a nutcase since she died, Wade. I was there that night, and I held you back when you tried to go for the doctor who told you she didn’t make it, like it was his fault. You’re a mess, bro, and you’ve made some really bad decisions since then. I’m not saying I’d be any better if someone I loved that much left me like that, but you shouldn’t have been alone tonight. I knew that, and I should have held you back tonight the way I did a year ago.”

 

“I don’t need a pity party.” Jim’s words were clipped. He didn’t give a shit.

 

“Maybe not, but apparently you need a babysitter so you don’t go trying to kill yourself and then latch on to some broad who would much rather scrape you off the bottom of her shoe like some bug she stepped on.”

 

Jim stared at him, incredulous. “Is that what you think happened tonight? You think I was trying to kill myself?” From the expression on Boxer’s face, Jim could tell the man was dead serious. How could his best friend think something like that?

 

“I’ll tell you something, Boxer. I’m a lot of things, and not all of them are good. But I’m not and never have been suicidal. I miss Trina, but I sure as hell don’t want to follow in her footsteps.”

 

“Are you sure about that?”

 

“Absolutely.” If he’d wanted to die, he’d be staring the devil in the face right now, not Boxer and his annoying concern.

 

“And what about this chick?”

 

Jim threw up his hands. “What about her? She was a good lay. You saw how hot she was. I was a dick to her on the way to the hospital, and when I apologized, I thought I’d see how far I could take it. That’s it.”

 

Boxer narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “It really wasn’t just some ‘fuck you’ to Trina’s memory?”

 

This time, Jim laughed for real. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “No way. Even I’m not that cruel. I loved Trina, and I hope her soul is at peace now that she’s had enough time away from me. And I hate what she did. It screwed with my head for a long time. But tonight was all about a good ride and an ego boost. It felt really good to make a proud bitch swallow her opinion of bikers.”

 

Apparently relieved of his worry, Boxer finally grinned, the dimple in his right cheek betraying that hard expression and reminding Jim of the kids they’d been together. “Man, you had me freaking out, you know. I thought maybe you’d checked out.” He stepped forward and smacked Jim on the back. “If you want, I can crash on the couch, keep you company. I’m still not sure you should be alone.”

 

“No way, I’m fine. Besides, you probably still have women at the clubhouse waiting for you to come back so they can jump your bones.”

 

“That’s true.” Boxer turned on the charm and cocky confidence Jim had come to expect from him. “Alright, I’ll get out of here and take Willie with me. But I swear, if I find you dead tomorrow, I’ll find a way to bring your ass back so I can beat you to death myself, you got me?”

 

“Loud and clear.” Jim practically shoved him out the door. Finally, he was alone, and he could hear himself think.

 

Only maybe he should have let Boxer ramble for a while longer, since the thoughts he had only made his head hurt even more. He could still feel Susan’s hands on his chest, her lips on his neck, and he could hear her moaning as she came. He slammed his hand against the door, not caring about the pain. He just wanted to erase the whole incident, but he couldn’t put her out of his mind, and he had no clue what to do about it.

 

Maybe a second round with her, somewhere a little more private and comfortable, might work her out of his system—but that sure as hell was never going to happen. He didn’t even know her last name. Heaving himself up, he limped to the couch and grabbed the remote, intending to turn on the television and try to blast the memories away.

 

Instead, he sat there in silence, wishing that what he’d told Boxer was true. Jim wanted to believe it was all about the conquest, but he knew damn well he could charm a nun into the sack. Susan hadn’t exactly presented the biggest challenge of his life. No, he’d had other reasons, reasons he wasn’t about to share with even the closest of his brothers.

 

How could he tell bunch of roughriders he missed and needed the tenderness Trina had given him when they’d first gotten together? It was embarrassing, and the guys would call him a pussy. And they would be right.

 

He didn’t understand his own penchant for it, and he certainly couldn’t describe what Susan’s touch had ignited in him tonight. Not only had it reminded him of the way Trina made him feel when she was sober; it had been even better, even more satisfying. He’d never felt like Trina’s tenderness was personal—it was just the way she was with people. Susan’s touch was completely different, as if she softened her touch just for Jim.

 

Ridiculous! He was being sappy, and it pissed him off. He had to get over himself and stop blubbering. He could easily get through this, if he could just get Susan out of his head. He didn’t need her. He didn’t need anyone but the brothers in his club.

 

CHAPTER
NINE

 

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?” Susan didn’t look Mendoza in the eyes as he fell into step beside her. She didn’t think she could lie to him if she had to face him.

 

“I was taking inventory in the bus, making sure we had plenty of supplies. We haven’t restocked in a couple of days, and we’ve had a lot of runs.”

 

“We just restocked yesterday, Susan,” he scoffed. “Look, just be honest with me. If the kid bothered you and you needed a moment, it’s fine. I had to go scrub my face and calm down for a minute after I talked to CPS, so I understand.”

 

She stopped walking. It was a good enough excuse. Considering her other choice was to tell him,
I was out shagging the piece of trash we hauled in earlier,
she’d latch onto it. “Yeah, I was pretty upset. There, I said it. Can we just get back to the bus and finish our shift?”

 

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she fought not to shake it off. But any sign of weakness, especially at the hospital, would only set her further back. “Sure, Susan. Let’s do it, and move on.”

 

To Susan’s relief, there was nothing else major to deal with that night. She took a sleep aid and went to bed, waking up mostly refreshed the next morning. Unfortunately, her dreams had taken a wrong turn somewhere—they’d been plagued with so many vivid memories from the night before that she’d woken up aroused, her panties soaked. Damn that man!

 

Jim Wade was nothing but a wolf who’d donned sheep’s clothing for the three seconds it took to get her in bed, and she was the lamb who’d fallen for it and let herself get eaten alive. She took a shower and scrubbed herself, as if she could remove his touch with soap and water. But as she ran her loofah over her hips, it only reminded her of his hands resting there as she took the initiative and rode him like a wanton fool.

 

She screamed, the sound echoing against the tiles and ringing in her ears. She was going to be in a foul mood for a long time because of this one stupid mistake.

 

It didn’t help knowing she was scheduled to attend a lunch-and-learn with some of her coworkers today, probably led by some doctor whose ego needed a garage door to get into a building. The topic was some crap that had to do with bedside manner and a gentle approach to combative patients. She laughed sarcastically at the idea.

 

Of all the paramedics she knew, her bedside manner was the best. At the same time, she obviously couldn’t handle ‘combative patients’ if her first response was to sleep with them.

 

Susan wondered if anyone would be able to read her and present her as a prime example of what not to do. And her newfound self-doubt was all courtesy of James Wade.

 

She was already running late and resented that this was the way she had to spend her day off. When this little meet-and-greet was over, she decided, she would hit the gym and work off all this aggression.

 

BOOK: Wreck Me: Steel Talons MC
13.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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