Creatively Crushed (Reckless Bastards MC 6)

Then I was in his arms and we were headed to the shower for round number two, which was even hotter than round one. And round three was shaping up to be the best of all. Until the school called.

Beau had had another asthma attack.

Chapter Eleven

Cross

My dark office inside the clubhouse was exactly where I needed to be. It fit my mood perfectly, dark and sparse. The Reckless Bitches nagged my ass to let them fix it up a bit, but the small room suited me just as it was. Nothing wrong with the wood paneled walls and dark gray carpeting. The big oak desk was new, and the leather chair matched the one I had in the Merry Mayhem room, only a shade less fancy. I did a lot of Reckless Bastards business in here, but I didn’t give a damn about how it looked.

The room did what it was meant to and I didn’t need shit else, no matter what anyone else thought.

“Yeah?” I was a little gruff when the knock sounded on the door because I’d made it clear I didn’t want to be disturbed.

Jag walked in, expression as stoic as always these days. Not that before Vivi, Jag was an effusive type of guy, but at least he used to flash a smile once in a while. Now it was like the guy didn’t give a damn. About anything. “I got some of that info you requested.” He walked in and sat down, all business.

“Anything good?”

Jag shrugged. “It’s not what you want but after all the shit that just went down with Vivi, I can’t be digging around in government systems the way I used to. But, what I did find is useful.”

Staring at Jag looking lifeless and without energy, I could only feel like this was another area where I was failing my club. Part of me wanted to help him, the other part didn’t give a shit. “What did you find?”

He pulled out a flash drive and he handed to me. I put it in the computer and nodded to Jag to come around and do his thing.

“Bill Pacheco, the city manager,” he said over my shoulder, “has a twenty-one-year-old enrolled at UNLV, but according to her professors she rarely attends class. It’s because she’s spending all day with her new boyfriend, Lu.”

Lu? My eyebrows rose and Jag nodded. “Roadkill’s treasurer?”

“Yep.”

Shit. That was a connection I hadn’t seen coming. “You think Pacheco would shit on us just to help some dude who’s banging his kid?” We were getting into tinfoil hats conspiracy theory territory, but we had to consider it.

“No.” He shook his head with more emphasis than he usually showed. “But I also don’t think it’s just a coincidence. Either she was put there by Pacheco to urge them on or Lu sought her out for some reason. Either way, it’s pretty damn certain it has to do with us.”

“Shit.” He was right. Jag was the best damn analytical mind we had. He was quiet and good-natured, but we’d gotten a lot of good intel and planning from him. For all those reasons and more, I hated that he was hurting because it was, in a way, my fault. “Thanks, Jag.”

“No problem,” he answered quietly and stood, turning to leave.

“Jag, you good?”

He turned. “No, I’m not good man. My woman took a hit. For us. It fucking sucks, a lot. But I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me or my loyalty. My head is in the game.” This time he left without waiting for my response.

Left alone with my thoughts, which should have been centered on the club and all the threats coming our way, I could only think of one thing. Moon. My God she had been a surprise, a revelation really. She was sensual as hell, taking to fucking the way she did everything else, full of passion and heat. And her sexual appetite was bigger than I would’ve ever imagined, giving as good as she got. Moon wasn’t shy about chasing after her pleasure.

And when she was in charge? Fuck, I’d gotten hard three times over the past couple days just thinking about how hot she was when she took charge. In control of her pleasure and mine was a role Moon had been born to play, but next time, and there would sure as shit would be a next time, I was taking the lead. I’d show her a thing or two about how good it felt to succumb.

To pleasure.

To me.

Music started blaring in the main hub of the clubhouse, which meant the Bastards and Bitches had started to congregate there. It should’ve made me feel good, knowing that my brothers and the Bitches, felt safe enough to come here and get loose. No matter how dicey shit got.

But listening to the music and the increasingly louder sounds of people having a good time, drinking and smoking, and soon there would be fuckin’ too, it all just made me feel old. Old as fuck, really. Like a lonely old man.

And that was exactly what I was, a lonely-assed grumpy old man with nothing to lose, leading a bunch of men who had everything to lose. What a fucking joke that felt like. My eyes closed as feminine laughter rang out and I tried to practice those breathing exercises Moon showed me. So far they hadn’t worked for shit but I kept trying because Moon seemed so damn Zen all the time and I wanted some of that.

Hell, I needed it.

But every time I tried to inhale deeply through my nose all I caught was Moon’s scent. It was floral and earthy and sexy. No it wasn’t just sexy, there was a muskiness that called to mind sex. Specifically, sex with Moon because now I knew just how satisfying it could be.