You Wreck Me (The Prospect 1)

“Great.” I groan and want to protest but I know my dad will protect me. No matter the costs.

Pulling down my visor, I pretend to be checking my hair, but I am really scoping out my mirrors to see where that fucking tail went to.

Chapter 3

Wrecker

“Yo, Wrecker.”

I look up from mopping the Goddamned floor to see Briggs staring at me, smirking with his arms folded across his broad chest. “What?”

“Pres wants you in his office.” I tense and cup the back of my neck with my free hand. I can already tell this won’t be good by that shit eating grin he’s wearing. Cocky bastard.

“When?”

“Ten minutes ago. Better run, you're already late.” He laughs.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I throw the mop at him and he chuckles harder. Bastard. Fuck. Damn. Shit. What did I do this time? Hope I didn’t fuck a bitch I wasn’t supposed to. I got a thing for married women. They don’t expect hearts and flowers. They are just lonely bitches who are in need of a good fuck. That’s how I got my name. I’m a homewrecker... I guess you could say I’m the club stud.

I make my way down the hall to the back office where the Pres handles his private affairs. It’s the one room that is off limits to everyone. Especially a prospect like me. I knock on the heavy oak door once then two quick taps just as we are trained to do.

“It’s open,” Demon calls from the other side of the door.

I go in and ask, “You wanted to see me.”

“Close the door and hurry the fuck up. Time is of the essence. I don’t know why it took you so damn long to drag your ass in here, but I have a job that needs done now.” He slams his fists down on his desk. Demon is one scary ass motherfucker. He looks exactly like his name suggests an ugly fucker from the pits of hell. Pockmarks cover his face and the top of his head is tattooed to look like a brain that has been split open. Skull rings adorn his fingers along with the letters spelling out hell’s fury on his knuckles.

“What’s up?” I scoot my chair closer to his desk as he leans forward.

“You want to fully patch in?”

“What kind of question is that? Sure as fuck do.” I’ve been a prospect for too fucking long. He’s been punishing my ass for years. A weaker man would have thrown in the towel years ago, but not me. I’m a lifer.

“Got a package you need to pick up. You can’t tell anyone about it. I need you to take it to The Stable and stay put. You deliver my goods no matter the goddamn costs. I mean it, you kill any piece of shit that stands in the way.” He cracks his knuckles and lights up a cigar.

“No problem. You can count on me.”

“Good.” He reaches into the top drawer of his desk. Then he hands me a cheap ass burner phone. “You will only talk to me once you leave here. I will call you. You don’t call me. Feel me?”

“I feel you.”

“I’m counting on you. You did good exterminating that fucking cocksucker, Reggie. Don’t let me down, boy. Directions and instructions to the location and for retrieving the package are in the messages. Once you complete this, I’ll patch you in.”

I nod and get the fuck outta dodge. I’m not wasting a minute. I’ve been trying to patch in for five fucking years. I did everything I was told to do without complaint. Even destroying the one thing that meant the world to me. But, with the club comes setbacks, I only hope that I can fix it one day.

Earning my patch in will be step one.

Getting her back is my ultimate goal, and one I refuse to fail at.

Chapter 4

Harlee

My phone is about to die, since I had to wait over a damn hour for some club member to come to me, I’ve just been playing games. I forgot my car charger so now I am bored and eager to get out of this damn car. I’m tired and want to take a long hot bubble bath and relax with a good stiff drink. It’s been one hell of a day. I also need to go to the damn bathroom, but that stupid car was parked down the street, just watching me, and no way was I going to give the guy a chance to grab me.

I roll my neck and rub my shoulders feeling stiff. If this guy doesn’t come soon, I’ll take my chances and head home. I wish I hadn’t even called my old man. That car got tired of waiting too and left twenty minutes ago, although I suppose they could have changed spots while I was occupied on my cell phone.

I hear the sound of a bike coming and shut my phone off as he parks beside me. I look out my window as he takes his helmet off and instantly I freeze.