Learning to Forgive (The Learning Series) (4 page)

When I was told this place had an opening for entertainment, I knew I’d be playing around a younger crowd. I also knew I’d hate it, but I didn’t think I’d detest it this fucking much. Happy isn’t my thing. At The Hole, I was constantly around the rougher, older crowd: fighters, bikers, prostitutes, and thieves. It’s where I could be found most nights, hanging out or handling business matters. The owner, Joe, thinks I’m hanging around here to keep attention off his place. In reality, I’m stuck here, babysitting. Playing with the boys is just a perk.

I’m fortunate enough that I only have to be here a few nights a week and most of these kids have finally learned to leave me the fuck alone. If I had my way, I’d sing, fight, and avoid this place like the plague. But duty calls, and right now, I have a serious problem, which has nothing to do with Jay’s crowd.

“Jimbo?” I yell to my bassist who's also one of my runners. Lately, rumors of his constant dipping have reached my ears, and from the edginess and constant touching of his skin, I’d say the rumors are accurate. I have one rule in this band. Keep clean. I don’t use, and I don’t want my members using either. This band means more to me than all the dope money I’ve made in this business.

He scratches his red beard when he stands in front of me. “Yeah, boss?”

Tonight isn’t my night to do pleasantries. I lean down and give him a grimace. “You gypping my clients?”

I watch his glassy eyes widen before he swallows down his guilt. “Nah, man.”

Lies are written in all of his movements. “What’s the one fucking rule, Jim? The one thing I ask of you and Ryan?” I don’t let him answer before my fist cracks against his nose. Ryan watches the encounter and just shakes his head.

“Ryan. Get Carlos, will ya? Tell him to drag this piece of shit out and not to let him back in.” I look at Jim on the floor clutching his bloody nose. “You’re through with Lyrical Obsessions and me.” I watch Carlos drag Jim’s ass out and hope I never see him again.

“What the fuck are we gonna do now?” Ryan asks from beside me watching the same thing. He’s my drummer and probably the closest thing to a friend I have. He’s a pain in my ass, but seems loyal, so I keep him around.

“The fuck if I know.” And I don’t. Now I need another goddamn bassist.

We head to our usual table and I sit in my vacant seat while glancing around. As they talk of the earlier commotion with Red, I just nurse my beer and observe. David and Ryan are both playboys and always seem to be trying to get in between a different bitch’s legs every night we’re here. Tonight is no different, and they’re sitting with their traditional whiny bimbos. The short blonde chick and her new husband Mason are making gooey eyes at one another across from me. Sailor mouthed Cory is with her country boy date. Then I see the real reason I’m sitting here dealing with this shit. Trudy sitting in her boyfriend Jax’s lap.

I’ve been told that my nemesis wanted her as payback for a kilo of prime powder that he lost when her ex’s house was raided a year ago. The ex is now in jail, but when he gets out, I’m sure he’ll be dead. That is unless Trudy is taken as retribution. I don’t plan for that shit to happen on my watch.

She was supposed to be taken last year but the guy ended up dead in the end. After that, I was told to keep an eye out while waiting to get my hands on Polesky’s Russian ass and bring him down.

Nicholas Polesky is the drug lord to the Russian Cartel, who’s downright fucked up in the head. If he gets her, either she’ll be sold, made into his personal slut, or killed. He has major connections in this country and is the principal supplier for the Southeast. Last I heard, he was sitting low in Atlanta somewhere. So far, no one can pinpoint his exact location. We do know his shipments come in on Georgia and South Carolina’s coast. And before I came into the picture, he tried to get his hands on the Gulf coast. And I dare that sonofabitch to try and take it from me.

My eyes focus on Trudy for a moment, and I notice she’s drinking for the first time since I met her. She’s always been quiet, and I hope she stays that way. The last thing I need is a loud, annoying girl to babysit. Even though all has been quiet, I still watch her. Jax seems to have a handle on things right now, but I’m not sure how he’ll do when shit goes down. And it always does in time. Especially in my line of business.

Luckily, Ryan’s the only one who knows of my Cartel job out of this group of young kids, and not by choice. He’s a persistent pain in my ass who’s hung around The Hole enough to figure it out. But instead of putting a cap in his ass for knowing too much, I keep him around. He’s been loyal and keeps my mind in a better place when it wants to stay in the dark. I need that at times, so I don’t go fucking insane and do something I’ll regret.

A hand touching my shoulder pulls me from my musings, and I immediately grasp it. I don’t like to be surprised. When I look up, I relax when I see its owner. Mari Rivera.

“I’ll be damned, sugar. When Ryan mentioned you two were in a band, I had no fucking clue it was like what I just heard.” Mari walks around my chair while her hand slides along my shoulder. She sits in my lap, uninvited, but much welcomed at the moment. Usually I’d throw the chick off who attempts to do something like that, but Mari is someone who is more than welcome. Especially tonight. I need to get rid of this frustration and what better way than to have a quick fuck. She’s also someone who can hold her own and I respect. Which is something not easily gained.

She fights at the gym and last year, she started competing. Ryan and I actually spar with her because female fighters are few and far between. And it’s improved her skills and strength a considerable amount. If she keeps it up, she’ll be able to go pro as she’s dreamed of, in no time.

She’s not looking to be Sally homemaker like most women. She wants to win a belt in the UFC, so she doesn’t want anything other than an occasional fuck. And that is totally cool with me. It’s like getting in the ring. We go at it a few times and then go our separate ways. That is until we get ready for another round. Like now.

I grip her ass as she turns and straddles my lap in her tight jeans. “What did you think we did? Played in Ryan’s uncle’s garage where we stash our Playboys?” Grabbing her cigarette, I inhale a deep drag while trying to calm my body’s repressed cravings. After years of being clean, you’d think they’d quit, but when I get real fucking agitated, they like to surface, and I know exactly who has me fucking frustrated. It’s not Jim, either.

Mari licks her pink lips, and I see the glint of the tongue ring that knows all sorts of tricks. “Playboy, huh? I have something warmer than a magazine and a lot more vocal. You want to see a real centerfold tonight?” Her hand travels from her shirt-clad breasts down her tight body and reaches my denim-clad cock that’s straining to be set free. “Where’s that cute redhead from earlier? She can play too if she likes it rough.”

“The hell if I know or care. She’s just some crazy chick who’s lucky she’s a she.” I pull her hard to my mouth and fuck her lips with my tongue. My fingers pull roughly on her dark hair, so there’s not a millimeter of air between us. Most girls pull away when the demon takes over. Not Mari though. She always seems to like it when I get rough. I wonder if Red would like it. Maybe her hair color isn’t the only thing on fire. She might like…
What the fuck? Get a grip
. That crazy ass girl will not ruin my fucking night anymore. I pull away and enjoy how Mari’s dark eyes are halfway closed and her panting breathing fans my face. “Let’s go.”

After she stands, I shoot a quick text.
Headed out
.

Lou knows to keep his distance. He’s one of my warehouse managers and watches for anyone crazy wanting to cause trouble where trouble shouldn’t be. Or if we have unwanted company from the Russians.

“Your place or mine, sugar?” Mari asks as we make our exit. I just look at her because she knows the answer. Very few people come to my house. Too much liability. She nods her head, hearing my response in my silence. “Gotcha. See ya there.” She heads out towards her Dodge Ram 1500 that sits on thirty-eights. Guys around here would kill to drive something that big, and when she jumps out, they always want the whole package. Me… I’ll stick with my bike. Faster and easier to outrun shit. But I do have my silver Z28 SS at home as a backup.

Pulling into her house off Dauphin Street, I follow her up the steps to her front door. She lives in one of Mobile’s historical homes that is being fixed up over time. Real wood siding, old wooden floors, and small rooms, I couldn’t stay in something like this. I need space, or I’ll feel like I’m back in a cell.

Before I can even get in the door, she discards her jeans while watching me. No sweet words with this woman. Just get down to business and get home. I walk to her after she’s stripped down to her black panties and reach around her waist to grip that ass I love. Some guys are into tits. Me? I’m all about the ass on a female. I lift her in my arms before walking forward to place her back against the wall. The feel of her ass in my palms has me kneading each cheek roughly, as I bite her plump bottom lip. I grind myself between her muscular thighs while my tongue explores her mouth before I kiss my way to her ear. “How do you want it, Mari? Here, first?” I reach up and take her mouth roughly, imagining my cock being sucked by those lips. “Or here?” Bracing my legs, I hold her up with one arm as the other reaches between her legs to rub the spot she loves. She moans when I pass her clit with some pressure, and her body twitches in my arms. She’s so fucking wet already that I slip a finger in and move it along the walls of her pussy.

“Mouth, Lyric… Fuck my mouth,” she pants out. She loves to give head, and I love watching her kneel in front of me, licking the underside of my dick before taking me in her mouth.

I oblige without another word and enjoy as she sucks me till I’m hard as stone and ready to explode. Call me greedy, but I don’t give a fuck. She wanted it, and she’ll get it after she sucks me up again. “You gonna swallow?” My voice is gruff as I try to hold back for another minute. She looks at me, and with the moonlight through the window illuminating her face, arches her brow. Of course, she’ll swallow. This is Marisol Rivera.

She adjusts herself on her knees and takes the base of my cock in one hand while the other caresses my balls with just enough pressure to take me over the edge. I grip her head and hold her to me while I thrust repeatedly before I explode in her mouth. As my thrusts slow, she looks up at me and knows what I want next. So she takes my come in her mouth, and spits a small amount back on the head of my shaft before licking it up again.

After I’m cleaned and she’s swallowed, I step away and wait for her to stand. Then I walk over and pull her face to me before I kiss her roughly. So hard I’m sure her lips will be bruised in the morning, but right now, I just don’t give a shit.

I get home at three a.m., still feeling restless, even after my night with Mari. I should be as drained as she was when I walked out, but my body’s set on a different clock. After years of watching my back in the dark, I stay awake when the suns down. A decent night’s sleep is something foreign to me. If I’ve ever had one, I don’t remember it. I’ll take a nap when the sun rises.

Standing on my front steps, I look up at the moon and flex my fingers over and over while my heart beats against my ribs. Why the hell am I this fucking hyped up? I didn’t have a bad run or have to handle some shit ass slinger like a few weeks ago, but I feel like I just fought in the ring and I’m ready for round two.

“It’s about damn time. My ass has gone to sleep.”

With an ingrained instinct, I swiftly cock my gun and direct it toward the intruder in the shadows. Now I know something is not right with me. Usually I’d know there was someone sitting on my porch. Mistakes like this one can’t happen in my line of work. It could cost me my life.

I squint my eyes in the direction of the voice that scratches at my memory. “You have until the count of three to reveal yourself before I pull the fuckin’ trigger. One.”

“Hold up, Scarface.” The figure steps closer until he’s in the moonlight five feet away from my gun. “Now will you put that damn thing away? You could put your eye out with it.”

Surprise and suspicion war when I finally recognize the person in front of me. Parker Hyde AKA Hyde is the last person I ever expected to see again. The last time I saw him was before I left The Reform, or Hell as the young delinquents called it. He came in when I was nineteen. He was quiet and stayed to himself. If you ask me, he didn’t belong there. I stuck up for him a few times since I had been there for two years and most knew to keep their distance. The law says he’s a felon like myself, but I don’t see it in him. Never had. Even now- with his clean haircut and clothes that make him look like an Abercrombie poster boy. Plaid button downs aren’t my thing and neither are khakis. But he’s always been able to conform to any environment or situation and eventually held his own. “Hyde?” Shaking my head, I hesitantly put my gun away. “What the fuck are you doing here, and how the hell did you find me?”