Chapter Four
Crash
This psychopathic woman just doesn’t learn; I’m giving her every opportunity to cut her losses and walk away, and she keeps coming back. And it is infuriating. Even though, deep inside, I have to admit that the sight of her — with her full lips pursed, her eyes blazing bright with fury, and her chest, and her marvelous tits, thrust out like she’s trying to intimidate me — is something I’d love to take a nice long taste of.
But I can’t let myself get mixed up in this local bullshit.
We’ve got a job to do. Cargo to move. No matter how damn tempting Violet is, I have to resist.
Except I’ve got the feeling that this woman is after my own heart and will not take ‘no’ for an answer.
“Fine,” I say. “I owe you one.”
She nods. Satisfied. “Thank you. I’ll come look you up when I’ve figured out what you can do for me.”
“No. Here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to give me your phone number, and I’m going to call you before I’m ready to leave town and you can tell me then what little errand I have to do to get you to drop this stupid issue.”
She laughs.
I have to give it to her, this chick has balls. And one hell of an ass.
“No, no way. I’m not giving you my phone number. There’s only one mechanics in this town and there’s only two motels and I know the owners of all of them. When I want to find you, I’ll come find you. And if you even think of leaving, I’ll know about it before you’ve even started your motorcycles. Got it?”
“Fine,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Good. Glad we understand each other. Now, say ‘hi’ to Max for me when he gets here. I’m locking up and going to the ER to check on my friend and won’t be able to stick around.”
“Who’s Max?”
“The only mechanic and tow truck driver in Carbon Ridge. He’s also one of my regulars and sometimes I babysit his granddaughter when his family comes into town for a visit,” she smiles. It’s confident, and sexy as hell. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m not bluffing. The only man for miles who can fix your truck is like a grandpa to me, too. You try anything and I’ll know about it. So behave, and hopefully soon we can both get as far away from each other as possible.”
With that, she turns, storms back to her door, locks it, and practically races to her pickup truck and peels rubber speeding out of the parking lot.
“Damn, she wants it bad, brother,” Blaze says from behind me.
I turn. He’s staring at me with a big old grin on his face.
“You’re joking.”
“I mean, she might hate your guts, but there’s something to be said for a good hate-fuck every once in a while,” he says.
“You’re just saying that because, before Tiffany, most of the only action you could get was from women that hated your ass.”
“Yeah, right.”
“How many did you have long term?”
“Like you and Rosa?” He says.
I flinch. That wound is still raw. And way too recent. “Come on, brother, don’t go saying her name.”
“It still hurt that she dumped you?”
“It was the other way around, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”
“What was it, anyway?”
“What it was is none of your business.”
“Then what better way to get Rosa out of your system than taking that baseball-bat-wielding maniac, Violet, for a little ride?”
I stare off into the night. For a second, I imagine what it’d be like to have her — I know a chick as angry and headstrong as her could handle it rough. And, right now, a good rough fuck sounds awfully tempting.
“You saw her, Blaze. She’s more liable to take my head off with that baseball bat of hers than she is to want to suck my dick.”
“It’s the danger that makes it fun, brother. One of the best times that Tiffany and I ever did it was when I was in the hospital after shooting up Anna Ebri’s guys. Being that close to the edge reminds you just how alive you are. And how good it can be to have a hot piece of ass in bed with you.”
The sound of a chugging tow truck engine saves me from the chore of reminding Blaze that there’s a difference between surviving a near-death experience and having good sex afterward, and having good sex with a chick who wants to give you a near-death experience by taking your head off with a baseball bat.
The tow truck pulls up next to our cargo truck and out of it steps a man who has to be at least seventy. He’s got a smooth bald head with just a patch of short-shorn gray hair at his temples, wobbly jowls, and eyes that look comically big behind some of the thickest-lensed glasses I’ve ever seen.
“You Max?” I say.
Blaze gives me a side-eyed look.
“I am. What the hell happened here?” Max answers.
“Violet says ‘hi’. And that she’s sorry she couldn’t be here, but she had to run to the hospital.”
“All right. But I’m going to say this again: what the hell happened to your truck?” He says, leaning over the steaming and smoking open hood and screwing his face up in a bewildered frown.
“It doesn’t matter. What I need to know is: can you fix it?”
“Son, I once fixed a helicopter engine while taking machinegun fire during the
