HARD KNOX(6)

“Not here,” I said.

“Why the f*ck not? Nobody is watching us.”

His hand flicked open the button of my jeans. I felt his fingers slide into my panties and down and around. As soon as he touched me, I flinched, jumping at him. I hated his touch but the feeling was like a drug. It was all I had in life.

“Oh, babe,” he said, kissing my neck. “Easy… just easy…”

I quickly grabbed at the zipper of his pants. The only way I’d get off was if Porter got off too. God forbid he touched me without something in return. Usually it was always at the same time, just in case.

I forced my hand into his boxers and pulled his dick out of his pants. I squeezed and stroked, knowing right where his weak spot was.

Two of his fingers crammed into me, making me groan, not from pleasure. He then did it again and again. I put my head back and shut my eyes, slipping away. The second I shut my eyes, I forgot about Porter and I became wet.

Then it felt good.

Really good.

But not explosive good.

There I was, on the gravel road in a cemetery, Porter fingering me while I jerked him off. I always seemed to sink to a new level of low.

He couldn’t find my clit if I highlighted it in bright pink, so I learned to move my hips and work his fingers to my needs.

Pleasure was my addiction, I couldn’t save myself from it.

But as I sat there, my dying mother’s last sentence popped into my mind. It hit me like a lightning bolt, from my heart down to between my legs.

“Ana… I was wrong… you need someone like him to save you… you need a man… you need to find Knox…”





chapter four


(knox)



THEN



I stood while everyone else sat. I leaned against the garage wall and looked around at all the posters. From motorcycles to naked chicks, the place looked and reeked of man cave. Shit, that was before the idea of a man cave was cool. Me and the guys invented the idea. No woman would dare to enter the garage. They all knew better.

The thing that got me the most was the silence.

It was never quiet in the garage.

Even if we were sitting and thinking, you could always hear the whir and buzz of the power tools, keeping the front of the place all legit. That was dead too. The f*cking economy bombed out and our little piece of shit town was left off the give a damn map. Seemed those in charge were more interested in constructing a certain image to make the rest of the country feel like things were getting better.

Fucking politicians.

The head of the table was empty and that was wrong too.

We had all the guys there. Half of them weren’t even wearing their leather cuts anymore. Yeah, the charter and the MC had taken its hits throughout the years, but wearing the cut still mattered. At least it did to me. It f*cking mattered.

There was a lot of Federal noise over the last couple years and a lot of guys were rattled. A lot hung up their cut. A lot were killed in street wars that should have never gotten to the point they did.

And now…

The garage door opened.

Uncle Jakey stepped in. He was one of the original members of the MC. The idea born out of saying f*ck you to the force fed idea of the real world. Finding guys who were struggling, getting their ass kicked by the system, knowing there had to be a better way to survive and lick the wind of freedom. They started out by riding through town to be loud and annoying. To the point where crime started to go down. I’m not sure who secured the first deal but at some point the MC started protecting the town. Better than the police could ever imagine. They grew and bled into the city to do the same. In fact, they ended up getting so close with the police that if something needed to be done that would tarnish the good nature, fair justice bullshit of the authorities they’d turn to the MC for help.

It was a good thing.

Yeah, sometimes things got out of hand, but it never got too far.

Now it was way too f*cking far.

Uncle Jakey walked forward. He paused at me, patting my shoulder. Then he went to the head of the table. The sight wasn’t good at all. It should’ve been the VP sitting there. Or better yet, a new vote. Call in all the charters and discuss what to do.

But Uncle Jakey took it all for himself. It was his way of trying to kill what he had helped to create.

“I stand today with a heavy heart,” Uncle Jakey said. “Our President, Hammer, is on the inside now. The rumors you all heard are true.”

That caused a little bit of a stir.

Everyone looked at me.

Yeah, yeah, I was now the abandoned guy. My mother split and was never heard from again. And now my old man was in prison.

“We have funds for lawyers, right?” one of the guys asked.

“We don’t have funds for electricity,” Uncle Jakey snapped. “It doesn’t matter. He took our votes and decided on his own path. There’s nothing we can do. If we insert ourselves, we become part of it. I talked to Devin and he agrees. Distance saves the rest of us. I know we don’t split on the cut, but look at us. Half of you don’t even wear the cut anymore. You’re all a bunch of grease monkey motherf*ckers, running straight, paying your bills on time, f*cking your wives twice a week, jerking off in the shower for the rest of the days. What do you want to do here? You want to stand up and fight this? He was caught up in a sting. It’s done. It’s over. The only option Hammer has now is to turn on the rest of us. That’s only if we’re active in the life. If he tries to turn now and the Feds want to come here, they’ll find a rundown garage and nothing else.”