He needed a distraction and he needed one fast, or he’d be thrashing around to scratch his back and stretch his long limbs. As he endured time crawling by slower than the drip of molasses, he pulled up his favorite go-to memory from the past week. The one where he’d walked into Jazz’s kitchen to find her bent over as she pulled something heavy from the oven. She’d been wearing nothing but his T-shirt and a skimpy pair of panties. Before he’d had a chance to move in for the kill, Screw had sidled up next to him and with a low wolf whistle, alerted Jazz to their presence. What had followed was hours of sensual play he’d forever use as go-to spank-bank fodder.
Tonight, however hot the memories, he was safe from growing hard. Not only was he so scrunched up, there wasn’t any goddammed room for an erection to expand, his joints throbbed so bad, his lovers could be naked in the truck with him and he probably wouldn’t be able to get it up.
Screw had to be losing his mind. Even if he hadn’t left his phone in the truck, he couldn’t risk making a sound to text and put Screw’s mind at ease.
Finally, after what felt like hours of torture, the deeper voice rang out again. “All clear in here, buddy. You have yourself a good night and remember what I said about communicating with the alarm company.”
Gumby blew out a silent breath as relief flowed through him. He fought his body’s need to unwind. Until LJ opened that door and set him free, they weren’t out of the woods. Sweat poured down his face as the seconds ticked by.
Christ, what the hell was taking so long?
It had to have been a solid ten minutes since the cops said they were leaving. Had it been some kind of trick? Had LJ been apprehended and taken in? Fuck. How the hell long was he supposed to wait there before he went to assess the situation?
Another few minutes passed with an agonizing slowness. “Fuck it,” Gumby mouthed into the dark and empty truck cab.
Just as he was about to maneuver out from under the steering wheel, the door opened, and fresh air flooded the car.
“Fuck, sorry, man. They were fucking chatting more than the ol’ ladies when they get together. Couldn’t get rid of the fuckers. You all right?”
With a snort, Gumby said, “Might need a wheelchair to get me out of here.”
“Sure hope not. I ain’t pushing your ass around, lazy fucker.”
They laughed then Gumby began the painstaking process of getting free from the truck. “Oh, fuck,” he said when his boots finally hit the ground. After a few minutes of tentative flexing and extending, his legs were ready to move. “I gotta get word to Screw.”
LJ nodded. “Already did. He knows you’re okay.”
Gumby held out a fist. “Thanks, brother. Owe you a big fucking one.”
“Fuck that,” LJ said as he bumped Gumby’s fist. “Pretty sure we still all owe you one. You didn’t have to risk yourself that way. We aren’t even your club.”
After shrugging, Gumby lifted the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from his face. “Did what had to be done. What’s the plan now?”
“Now, we’re outta here. Soon as all the trucks start craping out tomorrow, they’ll know I was either involved or a piece of shit guard, so there’s no point in me sticking around. I made sure the security cameras never caught my face. Just gonna grab my file, even though it’s fake info, and we’ll be outta here.”
“Are you in their computer system?”
“My picture is for my badge. They hadn’t gotten around to entering me into payroll yet. I already deleted any files associated with me including my badge image.”
“All right.” Gumby rolled his neck back and forth. He’d be sore as shit later. Worth it, but still no fucking fun.
Together, they entered the office where LJ rummaged through the file cabinets until he found his name. “Ready?” LJ asked.
“Ready to have Screw tear me a new one?” Gumby chuckled. “Not sure.”
LJ winked. “I’ve heard the guy knows his way around an ass. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”
He coughed, saliva abrading his windpipe as he tripped and nearly face planted. Did LJ know? Did he sense something.
Fuck.
“Jesus, man I was just kidding. Screw is bisexual, but don’t worry, he’s got plenty of fish to choose from. He’s got no interest in turning you.” Then he laughed and walked off toward his parked truck, oblivious to Gumby’s internal freak-out. “Let’s roll,” he called over his shoulder. “Have a feeling there’s a little pixie who will be very glad to see you.”
Great, so they were on to him where Jazz was concerned, but oblivious to his involvement with Screw. Strangely enough, he had to bite his tongue to keep his involvement with Screw from blurting out. The man had done something great for his club tonight. Who wouldn’t be proud to be with Screw?