Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

Picking up the mic, I answer, “Rodger that, bro, both loads delivered. About to pick up a short stack for the ride back.”

“We got another call. Spider needs you to bring back a passenger.” When he says that, I figure it’s a bike and one of the brothers. The Sacramento clubhouse builds custom bikes along with its not so legal dealings.

“What’s the haul?”

He snickers and pauses for dramatic effect over the radio. “Some needy chick.” Axl hollers to whomever is close by, “What’s her name again?” It’s silent a second before he answers, “Bring back Angie, Jazzy’s friend.” Oh, I know who that is. Today just got that much more interesting. My little wedding partner needs a ride back to Reno. I wouldn’t mind giving her just about anything to get my hands on her fine ass again.

3

Angie

I see Cowboy before he sees me at the bar of the clubhouse. My spine jolts with flashbacks of him going down on me in the dark in the back of his truck, his soft dirty blond hair between my fingers. He is a snack in boots and a hat. Those strong, sexy arms I want wrapped around me all over again. I lock that shit away, because he would not want a girl to pawn all over him, no matter how thirsty I am for him.

Anyway, I have a basket full of crazy going on and my life is in the toilet. After my meltdown with Jazz on the phone, she insisted I come home. Home, meaning to her house. I love the fuck out of her for saying that. After I hang up, realization hits just to top off my shit-tastic day—I don’t have a car. I swear, it’s like getting a one-minute-man fuck with no lube. This is the clusterfuck that’s my so-called life. Right after her party months ago, my car was stolen. I’ve been waiting this whole time for an insurance payout to buy another one. It will be difficult to look for jobs without one. And that brings me to how do I get home then?

If there is a way, the club makes it happen, apparently. And the way is a ride from Cowboy. Here I thought I could get away with not seeing him again, or at least allow a year to go by. He has that happy-go-lucky appearance that is easy for him. I resent his happiness and his luck and my mood sours even more, if that is even possible. Have I ever had a day like him in my life?

“Here we are again. You, drinking alone at the bar, with an unhappy look on your face. Life can’t be that bad, darlin’.”

“First off, this is club soda. I’ll hit the hard stuff when I land where I’m going. Second, my life is that bad today, Cowboy. Let’s get moving.” The stool screeches across the floor when I stand and push it back, anxious to get out of the center of attention and to get to Jazzy.

“Now, that would be rude. Abuela always makes me my favorite when I haul over this way. Take a seat, we’ll leave soon enough.” He can’t be serious right now. He reaches over the bar for a glass and pours a draft while winking at me without a care in the world. “You want something a little stronger than soda? It could help remove that brick off your shoulder.”

My teeth grind and heat floods my face. “Brick?”

“Yeah, I would say chip, but I’m pretty sure your attitude is the size of a brick at the moment. Lay it on me, darlin’.” He winks again. “What happened?” I’m not laying any part of my body on him. I would punch the asshole, though, because it would make me feel a lot better.

My eyebrows pinch together and I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m going to be homeless if I don’t find another job. My best friend moved to another state. I have no family to fall back on. My car was stolen, and I don’t have money to buy another one. You could say I have had the worst luck.”

“So?”

“So . . .” I repeat, irritated, and tap my nail on the glass. “Are you fucking kidding me? Not a big deal at all? Maybe it isn’t to you because you have a whole clubhouse of brothers to back you up, Cowboy. I only have Jazzy. I can’t walk around and call up for favors like you.” I didn’t notice at first how loud my outburst was until I stopped, and the dead silence spoke louder than me. Well, shit, add that to my very fucked up day. I lower my voice and harden my tone. “Cowboy, it may not seem hard for you. To me, it is. It would be nice if you could not jab at me.”

“Hmm. Well, it looks to me like you have a whole set of brothers right here who would help if you would stop acting like a cold woman. Sit down and calm your tits and think on it before you say something else you’ll want to take back tomorrow.”

Regret is karma’s ugly cousin. I’m not good at accepting help or patience. I was taught asking meant weakness. Life was a business deal, an arrangement of power. I feel stripped bare and they all can see how weak I am in this moment. That feeling wars with what I said. Jazzy reminded me that I could have called Snake or her uncle.

Speaking of him, her uncle, Fuego, walks through the crowd. He’s dressed in black jeans, boots, and his cut, with a black goatee that’s starting to gray. Fuego is caring as much as he is lethal. A few more steps and he wraps me in his arms. “You okay, mija?” My lip trembles and I suck it back between my teeth to hide the pain, stress,