I barely manage to move to the side before collapsing on the bed. She rolls into me, sliding a thigh over my hip as she cuddles close. I run a shaky hand down her back made slippery from her sweat.
“I think you broke me,” she says curling against my chest. Her soft lips whisper across my collarbone and miraculously, I feel my well-worn dick tingle. Down boy, I tell it knowing that she’s too sore for round two. It’s wishful thinking anyway. I came hard enough to last me hours.
“Hope not,” I settle for resting my chin against her shoulder.
She snuggles in closer and with a weak arm I manage to flip up the corner of the comforter and cover her up. Lethargy overtakes both of us and we doze off until I hear a thud against the door.
“You two want pizza?” Abel calls.
Chelsea stirs against me, blinking sleepy eyes like a kitten just woken up. I lean down to kiss her when my stomach rumbles a yes. The tips of my girl’s mouth curve upward as her stomach responds with an answering growl.
“We can’t live on sex alone,” she whispers.
Too bad. “Yeah, we’ll be out.”
Chelsea disappears into the bathroom to shower while I dress. Downstairs I find Abel sitting on the sofa, flicking through the channels.
“Ordered two. One cheese, one everything.”
“Sounds good. Thanks man.” I exchange fist pumps and take a seat on the opposite end of the sofa.
“Your phone’s been beeping like crazy.” He tosses me the electronic.
The screen says four missed calls. The lazy post-orgasm haze is blown away by the name on the screen. Amelia, my lawyer, has been trying to reach me.
“Bad news?” Abel drawls but his attention isn’t fixed on the television anymore.
“Lawyer,” I grunt. I’d been targeted as the number one suspect in the murder of a local Fortune woman all because I had a record. Oh and the chief of police hates the Death Lords, generally, and my dad, the club president, more specifically. Four missed calls from her aren’t good.
“Can’t be good if she’s calling all those times,” Abel muses.
I take a deep breath and press redial because there’s no sense putting off the bad news. She answers after the second ring.
“Amelia Granger, can I help you?”
“It’s Wrecker. I see you’ve been trying to call.”
“Yes, my God, where have you been? I’ve tried to reach you for the last couple of hours.”
“I was with my girl.”
She sighs. I don’t think Amelia has ever had a good lover. She doesn’t really understand that sex can last more than ten minutes.
“Fine. But listen, your parole officer wants to check up on you. He worries that the big city will put ideas into your head. He wants to know where you are living, what your job is, and generally check out your situation. We got permission for you to move to the Twin Cities and out of Fortune because you said you had a job.”
“I do,” I reply. “I’m working for Finney’s Auto Supply over in St. Louis Park.”
“And this Finney will vouch for you.”
“Sure will.” He’s an old friend of my dad’s and agreed to hire me on for the time that we’re here nosing around the Misery MC but Amelia doesn’t need to know that shit.
“Good. What about a place to stay? The last you told me was that you were at that frat house over by the University.” In the background I hear her tell her secretary that she needs the files for Kramer and Hedlum. “I looked that up on Google Maps and it looks like a rundown shack. Please tell me you have some other place you’re staying.”
“Just rented a place today. Chelsea enrolled in classes at the Minneapolis School of Beauty. My friend Abel is living with us. That good enough for you?” I bite out. I’m sick of this shit.
“Only one more year of this and you’ll be done with him. Just be on your best behavior. Maybe put your cut away,” she suggests.
“Not happening.”
She sighs. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight then.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” she confirms and hangs up.
“Sucks man.” Abel hands me the remote and as ridiculous as it seems, having control over what we watch makes me feel a tiny bit better.
By the time Chelsea comes down, the pizza has arrived.
“Want to watch a movie?”
“There’s no DVD player.” Chelsea points to the flat screen.
“I have a Netflix account,” Abel admits. “Tried it out earlier while you two were busy. Internet connection works fine.”
Chelsea reddens. I slap Abel on the back. “You should have said that earlier. Netflix account makes you a worthy roommate.”
Abel grins. “I cook too.”
“Good thing you didn’t admit these things when Mandy was here or we’d be having a party for four tonight,” Chelsea teases.
“Try to keep my awesomeness to yourself,” he says and then stuffs half a pizza slice in his mouth.
Chelsea laughs, any embarrassment at living with Abel fading away under his good humor. He’s a good brother. Like I told our new landlord, this is my family. I tuck Chelsea into my side and settle in to watch the movie. It’s all good.
21
WRECKER
Amelia knocks on the door at eight in the morning with Mark Patterson, my parole officer, in tow. Patterson likes the duplex but is alarmed by the niceness of it. I explain that Abel is footing half the bill and that both Chelsea and I are working. That pacifies him but he leaves with a warning that he’ll be stopping in at the shop to check up on me. Fan-fucking-tastic.
It’s far too early but Abel is already up, making coffee.
“I’m in love with you Abel.” Chelsea declares when he hands her a steaming mug.
“Sorry, I’m taken. Wrecker already proposed.”
I tip my cup toward her. “True story. I asked him to marry me when he woke me up a half hour ago to remind me that Amelia was coming.”
“She’s pretty hot for a lawyer, isn’t she?” Chelsea wiggles her eyebrows at Abel.
“Too smart for me,” Abel says and expertly flips a pancake over. “I only understand about half the words she uses.”
“So if you don’t like smart, hot lawyers, what is your type?”
“Easy,” he replies with a grin. “I like them hot and easy. Kind of like my eggs.”
“And runny in the middle?” Chelsea laughs.
“Yep. I don’t mind a little soft gooey center on a girl.”
“I’ll keep my eye out at school for you. Maybe I’ll find someone for you.” She pushes away from the table to refill her mug.
“Don’t forget I said easy,” Abel waves his spatula. “That’s like the number one criteria.”
“Speaking of easy, how about we follow Moose around today and see if he leads us anywhere. I’d like to put that issue to bed before we commit to providing any extra muscle for Junior’s transport job.”
Abel slides the golden pancake onto a plate and hands it to Chelsea. “I don’t think you need all three of us. Why don’t you take Chelsea with you and I’ll go hang out at the Misery clubhouse and see what I can find out about the older members.”
“What about the older members?” Chelsea asks. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t share that with her.
“While you were registering for classes, Abel and I checked into a couple of the older members of the club—guys who were around when Junior’s dad started the Misery MC. Judge gave me their numbers which were disconnected but we were able to track down their addresses.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“They aren’t around,” I answer. “Neighbors in both cases said that the men had left a year or so ago.”
“That’s creepy.” Chelsea shudders.
Creepy is one word for it which is why I’m not fully on board with Abel going back to the clubhouse by himself. “You don’t have any backup.”
Abel scoffs. “I figure that the clubhouse will be empty
for the most part. If I can’t handle myself against a few of these sorry folks, then I don’t deserve to wear the Death Lords patch. I’ll see what I can find out about the older members.”