Page 64 of Army
“I did because I thought we were going for a ride. I was going to call him in the morning and tell him I can make it now.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re telling me what to do now?”
“Yeah, I am. Just don’t go. I have to hang up. Later.” He slipped the phone in his pocket, switched off the lights, then headed outside.
* * *
By the timeArmy got back to the clubhouse, the two delivery boys, both who turned out to be no older than fifteen, had been questioned and released. They didn’t even know they were carrying bombs in their hands when they carried the boxes. Each teen said that they were given a hundred bucks to deliver the pizzas. They were given the addresses and told to hand over the pizza to a person who wasn’t wearing a black jacket or leather vest and then to leave immediately. They named the third teen and said he was their friend. After hours of questioning and implicit threats, Goldie, Cueball, Rooster, and Razor determined the frightened teens were just unsuspecting pawns in a dangerous game. From the description of the drivers, the Night Rebels were pretty sure they knew who they were. The teens were scared to death the men would try and hurt them if they knew they talked, but Razor told them not to worry because the club would take care of it.
Cueball and Rooster escorted them home, then had the two prospects, Ink and Vegas, stand watch at each of their houses. Before long, three local drug dealers—Ramsey, Mats, and Billy—were locked in the club’s interrogation room, shackled to the wall.
“The explosives were PVC and black powder, but the good thing was the moron who made it didn’t secure the caps tight enough so they were half on. That bit of stupidity saved Paul’s life and a lot of others,” Army said as he picked up his much-needed glass of whiskey.
“It was the fuckin’ Pistons. The three sniveling pussies we got chained up verified what we already knew.” Razor rubbed his eyes.
“Why don’t you call it a night, dude. The fuckers aren’t going anywhere,” Army said.
“I think I will,” he answered. “Goldie and Rooster already took off. I’m not sure where Cueball is.”
“He’s with Alma.” Ruby sashayed over and ran her blue-tipped nails down his back. “Need some company?”
Razor snagged her around the waist and pulled her toward him. “It’ll be quick.”
“No worries. You need to unwind. I’ll do all the work.”
Army laughed. “That’s an offer a dude can’t turn down.” He watched Ruby snuggle into Razor as they walked away, and for a moment he wished Mia were tucked under his arm as he escorted her tohisroom. He picked up the glass and tossed it back—the whiskey a little nugget of warmth sliding down inside him. He cupped his hands around the tumbler and let his gaze drift, seeing nothing.
“Steel chewed your ass out good,” Eagle said, sliding onto the stool next to his. “Who the fuck were you talkin’ to?”
“A friend, but he was right to be pissed off at me.” Army pushed away from the bar. “I’m beat, dude.”
“I’m just having a nightcap then I’m gonna crash too,” Eagle replied.
Army tilted his head then headed to his room. After kicking off his boots, he sank down on the mattress. He couldn’t believe that in the middle of a clusterfuck he’d slipped away to call Mia.What the hell’s going on with me?Since he’d met her, he kept telling himself that all he wanted was to have her writhing underneath him, but a feeling niggling at the back of his mind made him second-guess himself. What he felt was more than simple lust; it was a connection like nothing he’d ever experienced with a woman. It made him want to step away from her and run to her at the same time; his feelings were a confused mess of contradictions.
Shit.Heaving out a sigh, he sat up and leaned back as sleep evaded him. He opened the top drawer on the nightstand and took out a joint, hoping that it would help his brain switch gears and ease his thoughts away from Mia. Images of her in tight shorts and tops played in his mind.Fuck!He slammed his fist on the top of the nightstand; just thinking about her got him hard. The pain of a rigid, unsatisfied cock didn’t help dispel thoughts of Mia from his mind. Calling in one of the club girls to relieve the discomfort crossed his mind, but they were poor substitutes for the pussy he wanted to pump into—Mia’s.
“This is a crock of shit!” he cried out, stubbing out the joint. Growling in frustration, he pushed down on the desire for her still burning in his veins. Shoving the ashtray away, it fell to the floor with a dull thud. He stood up, picked it up then hurled it across the room. It struck the wall and shattered there, shards of glass falling on the wooden floor. He walked in a circle, pacing as his mind raced.I’m in deeper than I should be with her.Anger rolled through him—that, and desire.I need to just fuck her and stop this bullshit.He ran both hands across his face, through his dark hair.I can’t let her screw with my head. I need to concentrate on the club and the mess we’ve got going with the fuckin’ Pistons. I don’t have time for these feelings for her. I didn’t ask for any of this!
The sound of Mia’s sweet laugh, the scent of her perfume, images of her in high heels, and the feel of her soft body pressed against his ran through his mind. Army shook his head back and forth, trying to chase the thoughts from his brain.
The first slither of sun peeked over the desert in a radiant, white form as ribbons of sandy yellow and rosy pink filled the sky, welcoming a new day. Army grabbed the trashcan and picked up the shards of broken glass, then went over to the window and closed the curtains. He needed to get some sleep because the day would be long: three lives would end; evidence would be destroyed, and plans for retaliation would be put in place.
The trashcan scraped against the floor as he pushed it back in the corner. He lay down on the mattress and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly.
