Their Private Need (Death Lords MC 3)

I turn as Annie tries to press herself into the armrest of the sofa. Look out, Annie—the big bad wolf is here. “We met the other day at the library.”

“Is that right?” Grammy gives me a knowing smile. She didn’t raise five kids and a passel of grandkids without picking up a thing or two. I give her a discreet wink which she shoots right back at me.

“I stock all the new bestsellers,” Mrs. C cuts in. “You should stop by. I discount them by twenty-five percent, just like the big stores.”

“My reading appetite is…voracious,” I reply wickedly. Grammy tries to disguise her laugh with a fake cough and Annie looks torn between stabbing me with a needle and ripping my shirt off. “Can’t afford to buy new all the time, Mrs. C.”

Mrs. C tut-tuts in disappointment while Grammy takes pity on Annie and instructs me to get them all refills of their hot water.

As I wait for the teenager to fill up a jug of hot water for the ladies, I text Michigan.

I’m at Brew Ha Ha. LRRH is here.

Since when we calling annie little red riding hood

The thing about Michigan and me is we’ve been together so long we read each other’s minds.

Since I walked into the coffee shop and she looked at me as if I was going to eat her alive.

Which you want

But not at the coffee shop. Come over.

No

Chicken

Bawk bawk

I glance at the time before pocketing the phone. I’ll give him about ten minutes to get here. “What do you guys have to eat?”

The girl behind the counter licks her lips. “How about me?”

“Sorry, I’m not into jailbait, honey.”

Her lower lip pops out. “I’m nineteen.”

“And I’m old enough to be your daddy.” I quickly peruse the chalkboard menu and order two turkey sandwiches. “No, make that four. Hold the mustard and the weird green things.”

“You're only ten years older," she mutters and stomps away to make our sandwiches while I wait for Michigan.

He'll want to do something with his hands and mouth since he won’t be able to put them on Annie—yet. The time on my phone says nine minutes have elapsed when he blows through the door. He grunts a greeting to everyone but can’t get past Grammy without giving her a peck. Anyone watching him would think he didn’t even see Annie whose hungry eyes track him all the way back to the counter where I’m sitting. I grin at her and she flushes again. If she gets any redder she’ll burst.

“Stop,” he mutters under his breath.

“Why?” I ask, turning away from Annie as I do.

“You’re going to scare her off,” he says.

“I doubt it. She’s interested but doesn’t know how to get over the hump of saying yes. We got to lay out the invitation as obvious as possible.”

“Why am I here?”

He knows why but he’s having a hard time getting over the hump too. His obstacle is disappointment but I know in my gut that Annie’s the one for us. I know it like I knew Michigan would be my battle buddy and that we’d both make it out of the desert alive. Sometimes there’s just something inside of you that recognizes your other half. In my case, it’s happened twice. First when I met Michigan way back in boot camp and again a few days ago when I went into the library to keep an eye on Judge’s old lady and wound up being glued to the librarian’s assistant.

“You’re here because you can’t stay away.”

“This is never going to work.”

“Remember when we were in boot and that guy got the box of brownies from his grandma and the kill hat made him eat the entire box?”

Michigan tilts his head and gives me a what the fuck are you getting at look. “He puked all over the quarter deck and then everyone who laughed at him had to clean it up with their toothbrushes.”

“Everyone but you and me because neither of us laughed. That’s when I knew that you’d never do anything stupid to get me killed.”

“Never doubted your instincts, man. Kept us out of trouble more than once.”

“So why’re you doubting me this time?”

“Because your dick is talking this time, not your gut.”

He grabs one of the turkey sandwiches and stomps out, still not looking at Annie. He can’t look at her because if he does, he’s lost. Or that’s the lie he’s telling himself.

Annie

Michigan leaves as quickly as he arrives but just being in the same place as the two of them starts a burning inside of me. My body is tingling in spots that I didn’t realize even had nerve endings and I’m clenching muscles I didn’t know existed.

I pretend I’m utterly fascinated with the knitting when in all reality, I’m trying to hide how red I’ve turned. But I’m not red because they’re staring at me. Oh no. I’m red as blazes because my imagination of the three of us together is making me hotter than a furnace.

Exactly when the three of us became firmly planted in my mind, I’m not sure. I only know that when I close my eyes or drift off into fantasyland, I’m there with both of them.

I mi

ght be inexperienced but I’m not stupid. Easy’s obviousness is hard for even me to miss.

His winks and stares tell me that he’s willing to take me to bed and show me a few things. At the counter, he’s waiting for an answer. If I was a different woman, I’d have thrown down my failed attempts at knitting and sauntered over to both of them and demanded that they take me to bed.

I shake my head over my own fanciful thoughts. And while I’ve seen a lot of things on the Internet, the truth is I probably don’t have what it takes to satisfy one man let alone two, particularly these two since the rumors are that every licentious act spoken of in the Bible gets acted out at least three times a night in the old granary west of town that the Death Lords call their clubhouse.

I’d give my right kidney to visit during one of their infamous mashes. Lord, I’d give my right kidney to just sit by Easy a little while longer. I almost came apart when his knee brushed mine.

As if she can read my mind, Mrs. Wilkins says my name.

“Yes, ma’am?” I answer.

“Honey, will you see what the holdup is on the refills?” She gestures toward the table and I remember that Easy was supposed to get a carafe of hot water to fill the empty cups.

“Of course.” I stand on shaky legs and wipe my hands down the front of my pants. As I walk toward the counter, Easy stares openly at me, making no attempt to disguise his interest. The water is sitting near his hand along with a plate of sandwiches. As I reach for it, he grabs my wrist. It takes little effort for him to pull me toward him. I end up between his long denim-clad legs, my face so close to his I can see that his teeth are white and even. For some lame reason that’s what comes out of my mouth.

“You have really nice teeth.”

His grin broadens so that I can see almost all of them. Easy has a wide, very expressive mouth. It matches the rest of him which is also big. I look at his fingers wrapped around my wrist. He could easily span my waist with his hand. I’d like to pick it up and place it on my body to see if I’m right.