Jazzy’s eyes glower and she nods her head. “Fuck yeah, behind you a hundred percent.”
Together, we forge ahead through the crowd and into the kitchen. In the fridge, I take out the little peppers Abuela uses to make her hottest salsa for my poppa. I dump a few out on a cutting board. I give them a good hit with the palm of my hand. Jazz’s eyebrows go up. “Breaking the juice up.” I then cut them in half and stuff them into a plastic bag.
I nod toward the door and we sneak off into the room the girls share when they come in to stay. Peering into the room, I find no one is in there and dart inside. I find the bitch’s bed and her luggage. Quickly, I locate her lingerie and g-strings.
Tossing Jazzy the bag of peppers, I instruct, “Rub the pepper juice on her shit, her crotch is gonna be on fire all fucking weekend. Any man that sticks their dick in there—holy shit, I don’t even want to experience what that would be like.”
Jazzy’s eyes go round and bug out before the inevitable settles in. Revenge catches on like a crazy train neither one of us wants to get off. Jazzy groans at being in close contact with the skanky garments and gags while rubbing the peppers into the crotches.
She finishes hurriedly, and we sprint out of the room. “I need the bathroom!” Jazzy urgently whimpers.
“What?”
“My fucking hands are on fire!” She tries to contain the urgency in her voice.
“Oh, shit! I didn’t think of that!” I try to hold back the laughter lacing my tone. I fail.
“No, really?” Jazzy smarts back. Turning around, I push her into the garage and toss the peppers into the trash can at the end of the bar.
“Use the soap in here. The heavy degreaser will be better to remove the pepper oil.”
Once her hands are rinsed off, she sighs in relief. “Fuck, I almost feel bad.”
“Nah,” we both say at the same time. We start laughing, clutching our stomachs, and allowing the absurdity of what we just did wash over us.
“Stay here, I’ll go grab us a beer, then I’ll give you a ride.”
I sneak a few beers back into the garage where, by the time I’m back, the reality of the moment has caught on. Sitting on the uncomfortable stool, I pass Jazzy a beer. Her dark hair cascades over her hurt face. The pain is shared in the air, and it makes me hate Kilo that much more. He took advantage of her good heart.
There isn’t much I can say to make any of this better. “I’m here for you, Jazz, always.”
“Family is forever.” She clinks her bottle with mine.
Just as we take a chug, Hawk comes barreling into the garage. His face is tense and red. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why he is so pissed off. Taking another drink, I keep my focus on his enraged state and wonder what has changed since this morning.
Chapter 4
Hawk
I didn’t mean to peek glances at Ashley. Her long and lean, tanned body called to me like a siren. If a bitch was in heat, it was her. Ashley ran her fingers through her brown hair all fucking day, teasing the hell out of me. Something inside of me was drawn to her.
She was tempting me to want her with every caress over her skin. In return, I needed her to want me. The longer we were in the truck together, the silence grew into unspoken words of dirty thoughts. A game of cat and mouse was played. What shocked me most of all was my reaction to her. Being in the MC, I see my fair share of hot chicks. Why this reaction to her? I’m in a bad spot. The small eye glances, and her sly demeanor made me want her that much more.
When I parked the truck at the clubhouse, I gave her my phone number and told her I will call her when the car is fixed. Do I have to do the work? No. I want to do it. To claim a piece of her. Fuego will have one of the guys fix her tires, so I jumped in before that could happen.
I drop my head to my steering wheel and groan. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m married to Alessia. She is beautiful. We had a great time last night. So what am I thinking this shit for?
“Is everything okay?” Ashley places a hand on my shoulder. I bite my tongue. What am I supposed to say? I want to screw the hell out of you?
My head pops up when I hear Snake fighting with Kilo in the front yard. When Jazzy’s and then Alex’s name is shouted, Ashley is forgotten, and my defenses go up. What the hell is going on? The stress and confusion has taken me over, consuming any reasoning.
Bolting out of the truck, I approach the brothers, growling out the words, “Where the fuck is Alex?”
Snake is shoving Kilo. Words are tossed back and forth about Alessia realizing her place and getting into his business with Jazz. That’s all I need to hear, and my temper explodes. With a tense jaw and veins bulged with the blood pumping in my body, I rip myself away.
I can see her bike is in the parking lot, so she is still here. Ignoring the two brothers fighting, I go in search of Alessia. I can’t find her anywhere in the building. My breathing grows erratic, and I start to convince myself that I can’t find her because she is off with one of the brothers behind my back. Where else would she be?
Room by room, I barge into each one, not finding her. The only place I haven’t looked is the garage. That’s where I find her, drink in hand, with her accomplice, stirring
