Princess (15 page)

Three days later…

“When will you be
back?” I mutter, watching as my Cinderella walks around the hotel room, collecting her things.

Tossing her lip gloss and brush in her purse, she shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t keep calling into work, though; eventually, they’ll fire me.”

Doubtful. If they have any clue who her father is, she’ll still have a job waiting. I’m not going to complain, though; I’ve had her at the motel with me for three nights in a row. She met me at the bar on Thursday and hadn't left since. It’s Sunday now, so we’ve finally gotten some good time together.

“I got invited to a barbecue next Saturday. I want you with me.”

Princess sets her bag on the bed, coming to stand in front of me. “Is this the same one those guys in the black car were talking about?”

“Yeah.”
Does she realize Cain and Spin belong to her father’s Charter? I should say something, but she’s the one who shoulda’ fessed up that Prez was her pops the same night we fucked.

“I may have to work,” she mumbles, glancing off to the side.

I know she’s lying through her teeth and fuck if it doesn’t make me want to hurt her for it. I hate feeling that way toward her, but I’ve cut men’s tongues out for the same shit in the past.

“Ol ’Ladies are going to be there; you need to be on the back of my bike if I decide to roll up with my brothers.”

Princess takes another step closer, her hands finding my hips as she presses her chest up against mine. “I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

“Make it work.” Grumbling, I graze my lips across hers in a peck. “Wanna have lunch before you take off?”

“Not today. I have to call my mom and Bethany as soon as I get home. We can during the week if you’re not busy?”

“I said the barbecue is Saturday, not that I wasn’t seeing you until then. I’ll give you a night or two.”

A beaming smile overtakes her mouth as she lets out a soft laugh. “You’re going to show up and break my door down again?”

“Maybe, if I feel like it.” My voice comes out raspy, as my lips brush against hers with each word.

“You’re such a tease.”

“Nah, I’m the real deal, sweetheart.” Winking, I back away so she can get out the door without me taking her to bed for the second time this morning.

“So I should expect you Monday-ish?”

“Just expect me to be around anytime.”

“You’re really not going to give me twenty-four hours, are you?”

“You sayin’ that like it’s a bad thing. I thought bitches liked it when their man’s up their shit twenty-four-seven?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I want to see you. I’m kinda sore though and was thinking about the downtime.”

Letting loose a cocky chuckle, I’m beyond happy that I made her sore enough that her pussy needs a break.

“Just keeping my woman satisfied; can’t have that juicy cunt needy.”

She leans up, pecking my lips again, and then grabs her bag. “I’m going, thanks for the ‘satisfying’ experience,” she cheekily replies, as she walks away, opening the door.

“I’ll show you satisfying,” I warn, striding toward her as she takes off outside in a rush. I easily catch up to her, popping her on her ass strong enough to make her let out a shriek of laughter.

Chuckling, I spin her around and push her against the car. Her face is completely lit up, a smile so wide it makes my lifeless heart skip a beat.

My mouth meets hers in a scorching kiss, the kind that has her wrapping her hands in my shirt, pulling me as close as possible, and about to climb my body by the time I’m finished with it.

“Holy shit, why do you have to kiss me like that when it’s time for me to leave?” she asks breathlessly.

“Just owning that shit real quick so you remember it later.”

“Consider it noted.”

She pecks my lips again and hops in her car, rolling down the window and blaring her music.

“Bye guys!” she shouts, waving behind me as she backs out of the parking spot.

Turning back toward the motel, I’m met with Spider, Ruger, and Nightmare.

“Don’t say shit.” Grumbling, I shoot a glare at each of them, causing Spider and Ruger to grin.

Fuckers.

Heading back into the room, I grab up my wallet and slip on my boots. I’m starving, and since Cinderella had to bail, I’m going to find a big-ass burger. Making sure I’ve got everything, I head back to my bike, tying my black bandana on as I walk.

I barely mount my bike when Exterminator approaches. The other guys are suddenly nowhere to be found. I’m betting they heard us fooling around and came out just to be noisy.

“Ex.” Nodding, I wait to put my helmet on to hear what he wants.

He stops next to me, resting his hands on his hips, appearing peeved about something. “We need to talk.”

“All right; what’s up?”

“A few brothers down the road need some shit.”

So he wants me to run guns or narcotics most likely. It’s not uncommon; we usually break off into smaller details. We’re less likely to get picked apart by the cops if it’s a few bikers versus a big group. If we’re setting up a new business deal or handling blowback, then we take care of it as a pack.

“So what’s the issue?” I don’t like pussyfooting around; I prefer the facts, especially when it comes to the club’s dealings. If he’s pissed about a certain variable that has to do with our ride, he needs to tell me asap.

“Nothing, just ready for some new scenery. Scot wants to stay, so I’m heading up the run this time.”

“We’re all headed out, or just the two of us?”

“Everyone needs to be on this. I want to take off in thirty, so be ready to split.”

“You want to fill me in first on why it’s taking all of us if we’re only visiting a few brothers?”

Exterminator clenches his jaw, his mouth growing tight, not liking the fact that I’m questioning him. I don’t give a fuck about his feelings when it comes down to it. I need to find out how long we’ll be gone to give Princess a heads-up.

The MC’s top priority, but after laying claim, she’s my first thought over club business. I don’t want her thinking I’m taking off and not coming back. Her ass is already stubborn about being my Ol’ Lady, and I can tell I’m finally wearing her down about it.

After a few seconds, he finally answers, “We’re headed to Juarez.”

“Mexico! What the hell do we have goin’ on? I didn’t think we had anyone down that way.”

“We’re making a quick exchange and getting the fuck outta there. Take extra ammo. You’ll probably need it. I have to get the others.” He finishes and walks toward Spider’s room, cutting off any other possible questions I may have.

Fuck. Extra ammo? But yet it’s a simple pick and drop? Doubtful. What the fuck am I gonna say to Princess, ‘cause shit’s about to get real.

Either Scot is getting serious about the bartender and wanting to settle in with the Chapter here, or this run is a shit storm, and Exterminator doesn’t want us thinking about it with the ride ahead. Either way, I can’t help but think that I should have fucked my girl again before she left, ‘cause you never know in this type of life if today will be your last. We don’t have time to waste when you deal with scummy fucks on the regular; that’s one reason why we’re quick to claim a bitch and hope like fuck she’s the one.

Is Cinderella the one for me? Just the fact that I’m even thinking about this shit and asking questions should be enough of a clue to let me know that she’s got my dick on lockdown. She better get real comfy being my Ol’ Lady, ‘cause that bitch won’t be getting another man until I’m rotting six feet under.

She handled the claiming, but can she handle the lifestyle that comes with it? I’m a fucking Nomad; she needs to come to terms that we work off my schedule, not one that some pussy-ass manager sets for her. One thing’s for certain, when I return we’re having a serious come to fuckin’ Jesus moment when I lay it all out and clue her in. I’ll set up roots and tie her ass up in a basement if I have to. I’m just fucking warped enough to do it too.

Digging my cell out, I pull up the finder app I have for Princess. Her mini crown blinks at her home address, showing me she hasn’t gone anywhere else since she left here.
Good. I like when she stays home; then I know no assholes are hitting on her.
Closing it out, I bring up her number in the text.

ME: Hey, Cinderella, shit came up. I’ll be with my brothers for a few days, maybe the whole week idk.

Closing the message out after I hit send, Sinner pulls up beside me. A large Taco Shop bag strapped under the convenient elastic net thing he made for his bike. Pretty fucking genius actually and the first time I’d ever seen it before. He took a car-sized trunk net you find that holds groceries and what not, customized it down to fit his bike and replaced the clasps with softer plastic hooks so it wouldn’t damage the paint.

His engine quiets and he begins to climb off.

“You got any extra food in that bag?” I nod, as the delicious, spicy smell floats over, causing my stomach to growl.

“Yep. Exterminator hit me up a little while ago about the run. Made me crave tacos and figured half of you assholes would be hungry.”

“That’s what’s up. Thanks, brother.”

“No worries, I got you.” He reaches in the bag, coming back with five wrapped tacos for me.

“Fuck, I’m starving,” I mumble as he hands them over and I immediately unwrap a hard-shelled taco, shoving half of it in my mouth in one bite.

Sinner chuckles and shakes his head at me throwing a munch then strides over to Ruger’s room. He beats on the door for a second, and when it finally opens, he’s greeted with, “Hell yeah.”

Guess I’m not the only one who was busy eating pussy for breakfast.

Later that day…

What should be a simple run down south, has morphed into a miserably long ride. The closer we get to the Texas/New Mexico border, the dryer the hot air becomes and even on a bike with the wind hitting full force, it does little to cool you down. I’m used to the humidity and have a rough enough time in central Texas with its smaller amounts of moisture. Down here the air is stale, making my skin feel dried out and filthy.

The sun’s burned down on us the entire trip, thanks to Ex wanting to take off at a fucked up time.
Bastard.
This shit better be worth it. I don’t bitch on runs. I love the road, but I would go fucking nuts it if I had to ride in this shit all year long.

Slowing, Exterminator signals and takes the off-ramp, leaving the highway that runs through El Paso. Right off the ramp, we’re met with the entrance to the Mexican border. All the
You’re now leaving the United States
signs they have posted does absolutely nothing to make me feel better. If anything, they make me want to tell Ex to fuck off about this run, but that’s not how MC life works.

He picks a certain lane to go through, and we all follow suit, getting in line as a group. This could go down real fuckin’ bad if they decide to search us. I’m packing like a motherfucker, and I’d put money on it that my brothers are loaded up to their ears with weapons and ammo as well. Princess will end up with a dose of reality if I have to call her ass from jail to bail me out or find me a decent lawyer.

The bikes rumble as we scoot forward slowly; it feels like it takes them forever to check through vehicles. The road and exhaust are making me stinky and sweaty. Nothing like being around a group of hot, tired, pissed off bikers. I’m thinking if we get flagged shit’ll go down, border patrol agents or some ass-clown will get popped, and we’ll all be shuffled to the pen on murder, accessory, and weapons charges.

Motherfucker.

Spider glances back at me, looking like he’s going to upchuck.
Easy, Spidey, just stay cool and calm; hopefully, they’ll let us pass.

We can drop the majority of our ammo before heading back, so that’s not the issue unless we’re hauling something with us. Regardless, I’m not about to enter Mexico without packing some serious heat. I know a few brothers who’ve come to do a pickup and have wound up in a ditch, never seeing their home soil.

The cartel doesn’t appreciate bikers on their turf who don’t belong in their pockets. I’ve struggled too long to finally break away from pieces of shits like them, to be forced back under someone’s thumb. Any of their minions or twisted pigs come at me, I’m shooting or scalping their asses, fuck the dumb shit.

Bethany plops down on
the couch, pulling my phone out from the cushion beside her.

“Oh, my Gawd! I’ve been looking for that all freaking day.” Hurrying toward her she hands it over, and I plug it in right away.

“I was beginning to think you were tied up and duct taped somewhere. Who goes three days without charging their phone?”

Setting it on the bar top, I impatiently wait until I can fire the screen on.

“I told you, Viking had me a little occupied. The phone wasn’t on my radar when he was around.”

“Then you lost it when you came home and ditched your shit all over the apartment like normal, yeah, but you didn’t think to check the couch or behind the throw pillows?”

“You know I never sit on that couch; I checked the chair.” The phone beeps with voicemails and text messages that I’ve missed. Once it’s finished catching up and updating, I pull the notification bar down. “You called and texted me one hundred and fifty-seven times?”