“I will. How about breakfast? Pick your favorite spot.” Fuck, he was already making plans to see her again. It wasn’t smart. “It’ll be easier to catch you up in person.”
With a nod, she said, “Okay. There’s a place nearby called Biscuit Bistro that has the best breakfast.”
“Meet you there at nine?”
“I’ll be there. They have an outdoor seating area where they allow dogs, so feel free to bring Harley. Ray loves it.”
Always thinking about her four-legged friends. “Will do.” He slipped his T-shirt over his head and stepped into his jeans, wet underwear and all. The discomfort would keep his dick in check for the drive home.
He started for the gate with Harley trotting along beside him when he thought better of it. Then, spinning on his heel, he marched back over to where Brooke now stood with a towel around her waist, cupped the back of her head, and planted one last doozy of a kiss on her. “Best night I’ve had in more than fourteen years,” he said to her shocked face.
He left her standing there dazed and pressing her fingers to her lips.
Once he had Harley settled in the front seat of his truck, he responded to Jinx. Sure, it was ten o’clock on a Saturday night, but he’d be the guys’ president soon, and that meant they said how high when Curly told them to jump. Sure enough, Jinx promised to be at Curly’s house in twenty minutes along with the rest of the soon-to-be Hell’s Handlers Florida Chapter.
At least having a house full of bikers would prevent him from jerking off to memories of Brooke all night.
“That guy is about as stupid as they come,” Jinx said the moment Curly opened the door.
“Who, Prick?” Curly asked. “Come in,” he said, waving the guys into his house as Harley tried to worm her way around his feet and out the door.
“Oh, man, who’s this?” Tracker crouched down and rubbed Harley under her soft chin. “Hey, pretty girl.”
The pup hopped her front paws up on Tracker’s thighs and licked sloppy kisses all over his face. “That’s right. Give Uncle Tracker all the love. Who’s the prettiest girl?”
Curly bit back a laugh as the muscled and extremely tattooed badass melted into a pile of goo around a friendly puppy.
When Tracker finally stood with Harley in his arms, he took one step forward then stopped with a wrinkled forehead. “What?”
The rest of them stood gaping at the transformed Tracker.
“Dude,” Jinx said with a chuckle. “Who knew you were such a softie?”
With a scowl that didn’t fit the gentle way he cradled the puppy, Tracker flipped them all off. “Thought we were here to talk about shit with Prick?”
“Don’t you mean the stupid motherfucker?” Gabe muttered as they filed their way into Curly’s kitchen.
Fuck, they needed a clubhouse. Ever since Lock had mentioned Prick’s farm would be the perfect spot for their headquarters, Curly couldn’t get the idea out of his head. He liked the option so much, he’d canceled his realty appointments and hadn’t scouted another property in days. The farm needed a shit-ton of renovating, but he could certainly afford it. The location worked perfectly as well. On the outskirts of town, secluded, easy to keep secure.
The fact that it bordered Brooke’s property had nothing to do with his desire to acquire the land.
Nothing at all.
One thought of her name and he recalled how good her skin tasted and the way her moans of pleasure had gone straight to his dick.
He also remembered how he hadn’t come. That would be happening as soon as he got the info he needed and got rid of these assholes. A shower and his fist would suffice for the night, but next time…
Next time he’d be coming inside Brooke.
Once the guys were crammed around Curly’s table drinking beer and Harley was happily snuggled up to Tracker, Jinx lifted his bottle. “To the easiest information gathering mission on the face of the planet.”
“Really?” Ty asked. “He coughed up the info?”
Pulse snorted as Jinx said, “Coughed it up? He practically begged us to come to the next fight. It’s two weeks from tonight. He keeps the exact location private until the afternoon of the fight but has used his farm a number of times.”
Nodding, Ty said, “Makes sense. He hasn’t done jack shit to the place since he moved in. Still looks abandoned. He can easily have spectators park out in the fields out of view of the road.”
“Pretty sure the cops know about it and let it happen. For a cut, of course,” Jinx added.
Well, Brooke would be ripshit when she learned that bit of news. Learning Prick was still in bed with the cops didn’t surprise him in the least, but she’d yet to be slapped in the face with just how corrupt the system could be. “You have any idea how much he’s earning at this shit?”