Charlie's Heart: MC Romance (Burning Bastards MC Book 3) (10 page)

Blue spoke up. “The only problem I see here is the sheriff has been beaten bad, and the fucker on the floor hasn’t got a scratch on him.”

Big Dog shrugged, “Not our problem if they were smoking and caught the whiskey on fire, now is it? Come on, drop a few bottles around and I’ll light a cigar.”

“Not trying to tell you what to do, but the canyon drop off is right down the road a half a mile. Why waste good booze and a nice place like this when the canyon and a gas can is so close by?”

Big Dog looked at the younger man with new respect, “I guess you’re right, Blue, why waste anything more than a car and the energy.”

Show checked his phone for the fifth time and Charlie wondered what that was about. They were camped out near a forest just over the Oregon state line for the night, and should be in Washington the next day early in the afternoon. From then they should find a little burg called Graham, and that is where the two women were supposed to be hiding out.

It didn’t take Show long to tell him what was going on, and Charlie was furious when Show said, “I half expected this, Big D says abort and come home, the situation is handled. I guess we made the trip for nothing.” He watched the old guy begin to toss rocks and small limbs toward a pine twenty feet away. “You know something, brother, I don’t care, I needed the ride to blow the stink off anyway. It’s been a good trip with good company, a man can’t ask for more, can he?”

Charlie was pissed, he knew in his gut he’d been sent off to get him out of the way, and when he saw Big D he was going to tell him his thoughts on being coddled like an infant. The thing was, Show had a good outlook on the trip and he knew he needed the freedom of not worrying what people would say to Selma, or think about her hanging with an old scooter bum like him. He needed this more than he would admit to anyone.

This love shit was complicated, and he wondered if he would break out of the new arrangements in his life. He kept the certainty in the back of his mind that one day he’d wake up and she would tell him to leave. The shoe was on the other foot with Selma, it had been from the beginning. Before, he’d always been the one to say it wasn’t working out for him and the woman he was with at the time. Now he was waiting for his walking papers and it was wearing on his soul.

It took Charlie and Show two days to get back home and Charlie went directly to the clubhouse before he went home. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Selma first, but he had unfinished business with a certain smart fucker and it was best to take care of it now and get it over with. Show left for his place in town, and Charlie waved him off at the turnoff to town. He went another mile and swung the bike into the open gates at the club.

When he walked into the place, there was almost no one around. Tiny wasn’t behind the bar and even Joker wasn’t at his customary spot by the door. Candy was wiping down tables and she smiled when she saw who had entered this early in the morning. He nodded his head at her but kept walking to the back of the building where Big Dog’s office sat. He didn’t bother to knock, and was disappointed when he found the room as empty as the main room. He went back to the bar and asked Candy where everyone was at?

She was still smiling at him, but shook her head, “As far as I know, Big D took Future to some specialist out of town, I heard they’d be back in a day or two. Demon and Knight left around four this morning, and Tiny is at the dentist to get his new dentures, another tooth fell out last week and he got tired of trying to eat through a straw. You can tell he’s lost some weight ‘cause his pants are starting to bag on his big ass.”

He thanked her and left the building. Fuck, he hated it when he had a full head of steam and didn’t have a place to vent. It was Wednesday and Selma would still be at the courthouse working, so he mounted up and rode to his old place. He wasn’t sure of the reason he’d kept the place after moving most of his shit in her place. Not that there was much more than his clothing and a few pictures to move in the first place. Most of his old clothes were still here. His new duds were hanging in her closet.

He gathered some clothes onto the bed, and headed for the shower, maybe he needed to have some solitude today. He came to a few decisions on the trip home, and he wanted to think it through one more time before he acted on instinct again.

He was dead tired, but his mind refused to shut the fuck up, so he wrapped the towel around his waist and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, before sitting in his favorite chair and flipping through the channels. The noon news was on and he sat up straight when the breaking news reporter came on the screen with a fire and rescue truck behind her as she told the audience that “The police were not releasing the names of the victims of something they are saying appears to be a murder-suicide. Neighbors say the victims of the wreck are Sheriff Vince Houser and Prosecuting Attorney Howard Buel. That has not been confirmed pending forensic evidence and a coroner’s report.”

“Well the fuckers took care of it alright, but what happens to Pressley now?” He would wait to talk to Big Dog, but Selma would be home in five or six hours, so he had time for another brew and watching the remainder of the newscast.

He woke up and some crime show was on and it was full dark outside. “Shit, it’s almost fucking cold in here.” He remembered shutting the heat down to a temperature that wouldn’t allow the pipes to freeze if they got cold weather while he wasn’t there. He looked at the clock and it was after nine and decided to wait until early in the morning to go home. He hadn’t counted on falling asleep like that, and she would be ready for bed by now. He was wide awake and she would try to stay up to keep him company. That was just the kind of woman she was. She always put him first in everything but the one area where it counted.

There was a frozen dinner and a frosted over hamburger that had been tossed in the freezer before he’d left the last time, so he nuked the dinner, wishing it was a plate of Selma’s chicken and potatoes instead of the mushy shit that he used to enjoy eating.

She knew he was back, on the way home from work she’d stopped for gas and ran into Show while he was filling the tank of his bike. He had been at the clubhouse, that was as much as she did know for certain. Maybe he had too much to drink and stayed overnight. Pictures of some of the housecats and passarounds flickered through her mind, but she knew that her man wouldn’t do that to her, tempted by perky tits and firm thighs or not. No, Charlie wouldn’t stray.

She stretched out on the sofa and used the remote in front of the television to watch the ten o’clock news cast. She had already been informed of the deaths of the sheriff and Howard Buel. It appeared that the sheriff had Howard in handcuffs before the attorney’s sedan had gone over the side of the deep canyon. She was glad Charlie had been out of town when it happened, because she might have wondered if he had help engineer the accident. She had no doubt the two men were “taken out” by the MC, no one messed with a brother and walked away scot-free. Not that Charlie had ever said anything. When she began dating the charismatic biker, she’d gone online and read up on as many sites as she had time to see if bikers actually were as bad as they were reputed to be. She found more information than she knew how to process at the time.

The 1%ers were what she might refer to as lawless, yet they had their own laws and codes to live by. There were varying degrees of toleration anywhere from drugs to slavery and prostitution, grand theft, and payments made to the clubs to allow people to do business as long as they paid each month.

Then there was the borderline clubs. She imagined that the Burning Bastards were such. They worked security for rock stars, worked their version of bounty hunters, and most of them had jobs or businesses. From there it trickled down to church groups and wanna be’s. All biker groups seemed to have a heart regardless of the percent they lived as. They organized and ran toy drives for underprivileged children, they arranged and rode in cancer fund raising. They took some of the more spry and alert patients in nursing homes for rides to let them feel the wind one last time. Or for the first time. It seemed poker runs were a favorite fundraiser for bikers and they had raised millions for the causes over the years. All in all, they were just regular people attempting to raise their families and make a decent living for themselves. She could respect that.

She had tomorrow off, and she would track him down if she had to. Thumbing off the TV, she laid back in the familiar cushions, pulled the knitted afghan from the back, and covered her body to keep the chill off.

She was awakened by a kiss on her shoulder, and she smiled. He was back, and her world was right again. She was lying face down on the sofa with her head hanging over the side, and when she looked back to say good morning, she felt her shorts being peeled down her legs and pulled off one foot, and left to dangle off of her ankle.

His fingers were busy between the folds of her greedy pussy and she felt the wetness slide from her vaginal tunnel lubricate his fingers as they set a rhythm that made her need to move her hips. “Oh, Daddy, I missed you, this feels so good.”

His fingers withdrew and she was humping onto air then made out a small scream of frustration that turned into a hum when his thick cock penetrated her pussy. With her legs spread as far apart as possible in this position, his cock slid in easier than normal, or maybe it was the juice from her cunt that made the glide less difficult. Whatever it was she grunted when he hit bottom and she felt his cock head kiss her cervix. His hand reached down and cradled her throat in a light but firm hold, slowly applying pressure with each stab of his cock. He knew this drove her crazy, and when he began talking dirty to her, she stopped trying to hold back. When he was like this, she was in for the fucking of her life and each time was better than the last.

“You like that, dontcha, you make me want to fuck your sweet little pussy for hours, and maybe I will. Should I keep you naked and sucking my cock and fucking all day? I bet you love the idea of me slapping this pretty little ass, don’t cha? Come on, babydoll, it’s time for you to let me feel your pussy grab my cock and suck the cum from my balls. Yeah, darling I love it when you wake up as wet as any slut trolling for a random fuck.” He rammed her harder and gave her thigh a swat of his big hand and she screamed as her hips slammed back onto his cock. “Come on, doll, yeah, I feel your tight cunt clenching and pulling me deeper, fuck yeah.” He flooded her pussy with his cum even as she gasped and he felt her do something only a few women he’d been with before could do, she clamped down on his cock so hard that he couldn’t move until her body relaxed enough to unclench her pussy from its stranglehold on his shaft.