Their Private Need (Death Lords MC 3)

“Judge’s auto shop?” I nibble on my lip. “Easy suggested that but I didn’t want to get the job just because…you know.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

Pippa just smiles. Judge is her boyfriend. Or her man. Boyfriend seems like a silly word to apply to Judge, the president and leader of a bunch of rough-edged men. He’s a big man, like Michigan and Easy, and he’s got two kids. Boyfriend and Judge don’t go together. “He’s been complaining about all the paperwork he’s got to do. He hates it. I guess his daughter—I mean stepdaughter—used to do a lot of it but she’s spending more time at the Cut-n-Curl.”

Judge has a complicated relationship with his kids. His son is currently dating his daughter, but she’s his stepdaughter so I guess that makes it okay. It seems weird but then I’m sleeping with two guys. There’s no moral high ground here. “What does it all entail?”

“I’m not sure but I bet it’s not too different from your church work.”

“Really?” I say dryly. “Does he have to log prayer requests?”

Pippa laughs. “No, but he does have orders and complaints. And a wait list. A really long wait list. The more time he can spend with the wrench in his hand, the more money he makes.”

“I’m interested.”

“Great. I’ll ask him tonight. Need me to cover for you?”

“No.” I blush a little. “Easy is coming over to have dinner with us tonight. I invited him.”

“How did your dad take it?”

“He said he appreciated my missionary work outside of the church and reminded me that temptation comes in all forms, particularly attractive ones.”

I try to suppress a smile but it doesn’t work. We both burst out laughing because those Death Lords MC members are nothing but sin come to life.

“You can talk to me about anything. Particularly Easy and Michigan. They treating you okay?”

I can feel myself blanching. “Does everyone know?”

“Everyone in the club, probably. They have a reputation. Outside the club? Maybe? Maybe not? There are some women who’ve been at the club long enough that they might guess.”

Or women who they’ve shared is what Pippa probably means. My stomach clenches at the thought of another woman being in between the two of them. I don’t like that. I want what happens between the two of us to be special.

Pippa reads me easily. “Don’t think about their pasts. It will make you crazy. Focus on the future you want with them.”

She pegs it exactly but it’s easier to dispense advice rather than act on it, no matter how on-point or thoughtful it is.

“I’m out of my depth. I’ve gone from driving my safe Toyota to operating exotic machinery that could crash at the slightest wrong touch.”

“Those men don’t look breakable to me.”

“Really? How about me? Don’t I look breakable?”

She reaches over to cup my shoulders and gives me a long look. Pippa and I are opposites in nearly every way. She’s curvy with an hourglass figure and striking red hair. When she walks down the street, people stop and stare. It’s no wonder Judge, a long-time bachelor, took one look at her and fell hard.

I’m tall, thin, gangly. My boobs are nothing to speak of and my hair is a limp, thin mass of brown. I don’t understand how these two gorgeous men could be interested in me.

“You’re beautiful and strong, Annie. Don’t forget it.”

“How do I hold on to them?” I whisper.

“You don’t. You love them. Love is the glue that binds you all together. You can’t make them stay by being something you’re not. Be yourself. It’s what attracted them in the first place. And let it go from there.”

Wise words.

“Is it wrong to want them both?”

“No,” she says. “Not wrong at all. Michigan and Easy are a unit. They fought together, survived terrible conditions together. They are important to each other and while lots of women might have wanted to take a ride with them, it was only temporary. It takes a special person to be willing to accept both of them.” She shudders. “Two men to pick up after? You’re really asking for it.”

Their house is immaculate and the hotel room was clean when I stepped out of the bathroom. “Picking up after them doesn’t seem to be number one on their priority list of things to do.”

“It sounds like you have an ideal situation then. Don’t overthink it, Annie.”

Chapter Fifteen

Annie

“Tell me more about this Van Beasley,” Father asks as he watches me flit around the kitchen. The roast has been simmering all day in the crock-pot and when I go to check on it, the meat breaks apart at the first touch of the fork. The roasted brussels sprouts are warming in the oven and I just have to mash the potatoes and make the roux for the gravy. A quick look at the clock says I have fifteen minutes. I hope I made enough food. Easy could probably eat one roast himself.

“Um, he’s twenty-nine and Mrs. Wilkins’ oldest grandson.”

“Hmm…and how did you meet again?”

I’ve told him many times but I repeat the story once more. “At the library. He came in to check out the latest Lee Child book.”

“Did he invite you out then?”

“No, not until the coffee shop.” I’m beginning to feel like a suspect in a cop show where they grill you a thousand times until you make a mistake and then they point and say “Gotcha!” I’ve not lied to Father about how Easy and I met. I didn’t have to. I’m only keeping out that I’ve had sex with him…and Michigan.

“Is that the knitting class you took?” He frowns over his spectacles. And again it’s as if he wants to catch me in a lie.

“Yes, with Mrs. Wilkins and a few of her friends. You recommended it, remember, Father? And afterward Mrs. Wilkins called you to come and pray with her.”

That was the night I went to Easy and Michigan’s house. Where they undressed me, kissed every inch of my skin, and then took my virginity. Or I gave it to them. The memory of that night makes me hot and I turn to hide my reaction. I lift the crock-pot lid on the pretense of smelling the food but really I’m seeking cover for my flush.

The doorbell rings. I rush to the door and open it. Easy’s there, grinning at me. I want to throw myself into his arms but I settle for giving him a return smile. He places a hand around my waist and drags me toward him and we’re almost kissing before I remember my father standing behind me. I draw back and Easy looks at me with regret.

“Sorry,” I mouth.

He shakes his head and gives me a wry smile. “Forgot myself.”

“Come on in.” I gesture and he steps in front of me. He left his colors at home and instead is wearing a white button-down shirt and jeans. I glance beyond him to the truck he has parked on the curb.

Everything about this seems wrong. He’s missing his cut. He isn’t riding his motorcycle. The shirt he’s wearing is a bit small. It’s unbuttoned around the neck and cuffs and I don’t think it’s an intentional style note. I think the shirt is just too small and I wonder if he’s borrowed it from someone. My heart squeezes with the effort he’s putting forth and I want to throw myself into his arms and kiss him so hard that his lips are bruised.

“Father, this is Easy.” I use his road name. If we’re going to have a relationship, then Father needs to accept him, colors, road name, club and all.

“Mr. Beasley, nice of you to come and have dinner with us.?

??

“Thanks, Pastor Bloom, but as your daughter says, I go by ‘Easy.’”

Father’s lip curls up. “Nicknames are for children.”

Oh, this is a very bad idea. “Easy, can you come and help me in the kitchen?”

“Sure, baby,” he says without thinking. I wince. He winces. Father glares.

“Sorry,” Easy mutters when we’re inside the kitchen. Only a thin wall separates the dining room for the kitchen so I bang a couple of lids into the sink to cover my response.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve known better. Let’s just get through this. Pippa helped me put my resume together and as soon as I get a job, I’m out of here.”

“You know you can come live with us anytime.”

“Thanks, but I think it’s best if I have my own place.”

“If that’s what you want.”

The needy, greedy girl in me wants to throw the pot roast into the trash, climb onto Easy’s hog and ride to their home. But I can’t rely on the two of them for everything. I need to show them how valuable I am. Just like I did with Father. I’m going to pay my own way and pamper the two of them so that they’ll never get tired of me and leave. Not like my mom did. Not like my father would like to do.

I thrust the pot roast in Easy’s arms and grab the salad and the brussels sprouts.

“Hope you like brussels sprouts.”

He eyes the little cabbages skeptically. “Will you throw me out if I don’t?”

“No, but vegetables are good for you. You do eat them, right?”

“I eat corn on the cob.”

“Fair enough.” I lodge that into my memory bank. I’ll make the best corn on the cob every night for him if we make it through this without bloodshed.