Lady Guardians: Back Off Page 8

  Here I am, first thing in the morning unsure how I got involved in this shit. I park my bike and look at the outside of the bar. They had plans to spruce up the exterior too. I stand for a couple of minutes assessing the project. Large potted plants, small bouquets of flowers, and bags of dirt, mulch, and a pile of stinking horse manure are on the ground.

  The outside needs work; a lot of work. Besides painting the entire building, repaving the driveway, and landscaping, a new sign identifying the bar as a B2R hangout wouldn’t hurt. What’s laid out on the ground is for a quick cosmetic fix. I can’t wait to see how it comes together.

  Cowboy walks off the porch and over to me. “What the fuck did you tell those broads they could do, man?”

  “I gave them permission to do whatever. Are you helping them?”

  “Hell no! I ain’t helping them turn our hangout into a damn tea house.”

  I feel the frown form on my face. “We’ll benefit from them cleaning that hellhole! I told you guys to pitch in. Who else is here beside you and me?”

  “Brick and a couple of the other guys came to help. The broads said they didn’t need our help.”

  “Help me understand why you’re bitchin’. From what I’m hearing, you’ve done no work, and you don’t like that they’ve tidied up our mess.”

  Cowboy smiles. “Go look for yourself.”

  I walk through the front door and am hit by an overpowering pine scent. It’s pleasant compared to the usual smells drifting around the bar. Then I see the elegant theme Carrie has set for the party: white linen tablecloths are on tables set with tall vases for flowers or candles. The chairs are covered in pressed white cloths and have gold bows around them. The room reminds me of Cliff’s wedding reception with all the glitz and glam.

  “What the fuck,” I mumble. This is not the same rough and gruff bar. The floors have been swept and mopped. The walls have been repainted to get rid of the graffiti, and they took down the posters of the half-naked women posing on motorcycles. Even the bar has a fresh coat of paint on it. I see why Cowboy is pissed; B2R’s existence has been erased.

  My eyes land on Carrie, who is kneeling down sweeping dirt up in a dustpan. Damn, she has a fantastic body, and I can’t pull my gaze away. I plant my feet wide and cross my arms over my chest, enjoying the view. She’s wearing faded hot-pink short shorts and a grey sports bra. Her back has a streak of sweat running down the middle.

  When she stands up straight and turns around, I draw in a breath. Carrie’s face is makeup free and, her hair is tied up in a funky bun on top of her head. She puts her hands on her hips—damn, her stomach is flat and toned. My cock jerks every time I see or think about her. Consummating our relationship is moving slower than I expected. However, I plan to change that after the party. Carrie King will come to the realization I’m the last man she’ll ever be with.

  She’s momentarily caught off guard, but quickly recovers, throwing a smile my way.

  “Hey, you finally got here. What do you think?”

  “Clean. Very clean and classy. That’s the look you were going for right?”

  “Yes.” She walks to the trashcan and dumps the dustpan. My eyes are trained on her ass. “I get Cowboy and Brick aren’t happy with the makeover. I feel bad I changed B2R’s environment. I swear, after the event, it will be a biker boy hangout again.”

  “Let ‘em bitch, Carrie. This dump hasn’t been cleaned in years, and I like it doesn’t smell like old beer and cat litter. Can’t tell a cat lives here.”

  “How is Sugar adjusting to living at your place?”

  Carrie is struggling to lift the garbage bag. “She has taken it over.” I walk over to her, take the bag from the can, and tie it up.

  “Thanks.” She wipes sweat from her forehead. “Three days and it will be over. I’m either a success, or I flop.”

  “You won’t flop. How is it going at work? Any trouble from Tequeela’s aunt?”

  She shakes her head. “I haven’t heard a word from her knock on wood. Should I be worried or glad about that, Jonah?”

  I shrug. “My advice is don’t ever let your guard down.”

  “Right. Okay, back to work. Would you mind taking this bag out back?”

  “Sure. What else do you need me to do?” I ask, throwing the trash bag over my shoulder.

  “Find me when you’re done. I’m sure I’ll have more tasks for you.”

  I reply, “I’m sure you will.”

  I move closer to her and am just about to kiss her when Dawn interrupts us. “Carrie, a delivery guy wants to know where to put the photo booth.”

  Without taking my eyes off Carrie, I raise my brow. “We have to take pictures,” she replies, and then gives me a weak smile.

  “I’m not saying a word.” Although a lot of them are going through my mind. I have to remember Carrie and I come from different worlds.

  She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “It’ll be fun; you’ll see.”

  I shake my head watching her leave with Dawn. “I won’t be doing no damn photo booth, I know that much.”

  I take the trash and go through the kitchen to get to the backyard where the dumpster is located. I see the woman Carrie was arguing with the night of the meeting. She is going through the fridge. Probably not a big deal if Kiana was dressed for cleaning detail.

  Her sundress is white and pristine, and she is wearing high-heel sandals. She is on the phone and hasn’t noticed me. I continue to watch her move around the kitchen, pausing at times. The person on the phone is apparently giving her instructions.

  I can’t hear the conversation, and it could be an innocent call—if my perception allowed me to believe that. Unlike Carrie, I never trust anyone who challenges me.

  “Looking for something specific?” I ask her.

  Startled, she jumps and turns around. “You scared me.” She holds her hand over her heart. “I’m making sure the fridge and counters are sanitized for the caterers.”

  “We don’t cook here, so they’ll be fine.”

  “Great. I’ll let Carrie know.”

  The woman is gone before I can get a read on her. My hunch is if Tequeela has a plan to sabotage Carrie, it will be the night of the party. Doing it before then will only bring her sympathy and more support.

  13

  Carrie

  Sweat is soaking my clothes making me feel dirty and smelly. It has to be over ninety degrees in the attic that at one time must’ve been used as a bedroom. There is a full-size four-poster bed and two large end tables with Tiffany-style lamps. A burnt-red leather wingback chair sits on a rug that looks old and expensive, and there’s a beautiful mahogany floor mirror.

  The furniture appears to be antique. I’m surprised it hasn’t warped under the oppressive heat in the attic. Thank goodness the bar is air-conditioned. I push a dusty pile of papers over on the dresser to make room for the box of crap collected from downstairs. I painted the walls but didn’t throw out the posters or any of the other distasteful trinkets.

  “Jonah, pass me that box on the floor.”

  Instead of giving it to me, he puts the heavy box on the dresser. “You could’ve left our precious items and booze downstairs. There is plenty of space under the bar or in the kitchen.”

  “I moved it so the bartender wouldn’t mistakenly use your alcohol. And this other stuff… well.”

  He laughs. “I get the booze is the cheap shit. But people should learn to appreciate a biker’s good taste in décor.”

  I quirk my brow. “Um, if you say so.”

  “Don’t knock it. Anyhow, I want to ask you about Kiana.”

  I turn around and face him. “What about her?”

  “I caught her in the kitchen snooping around. She said you sent her to check out the kitchen for the caterers.”

  “I did not ask Kiana to do the kitchen because Millie is assigned to the caterers. Kiana wasn’t supposed to be here today. She claimed she had a doctor’s appointment. Did she say anything else to you?”

&
nbsp; “Nope. She hurried and got her ass out of the room. Do you still feel she’s spying for Tequeela?”

  I nod. “More now than before.” I take the two half-frozen bottles of water from the box and toss one to Jonah. I run the cold, damp bottle around my neck. The coolness feels good on my hot, sticky skin. “Did someone live in the attic?”

  Jonah takes a long swig of water, nearly draining the bottle. “When I was down on my luck, I would stay here.”

  I don’t know how to respond. Not knowing much about Jonah’s past, I wouldn’t know if he’s ever been down on his luck. “The furniture is from a dated period. You should have it protected from the elements.”

  Jonah sighs. “Carrie, not many people know about my past. Cliff knows bits and pieces, but not everything about me. The furniture belonged to my great-great-grandparents, and it was left to me. I keep it here because I can’t bring myself to sell it.”

  “As you shouldn’t. That is a part of your family’s history.”

  “It is bulky furniture that is too heavy to move,” Jonah replies.

  I walk over to the bed and press on the mattress. It is springy and soft under my hands. If it weren’t hot as hell, I would stretch out on the bed and take a nap; that’s how tired I am. “I bet if you polish it up, it would be beautiful in your apartment.”

  “No, it will stay here for now.”

  “Okay, just making a suggestion.”

  He moves closer to me, backing me up against the post, his right hand sliding behind my neck and holding my head.

  “Let me make myself clear. I’m not a man who likes to talk about myself. I will say I have never been incarcerated nor do I come from a family of serial killers. I separated myself from my family because we disagreed on how my life should go. I haven’t seen or spoken to them in years and don’t plan on it. Understand?”

  Shoot. Who could argue with that? “I understand,” I say.

  “Good,” he murmurs, his eyes on my lips. “Now, you lured me up here for a reason. Was it just to get me alone for a kiss?”

  His left hand has moved to my face, and he’s holding my cheek. Giving him a provocative smile, I answer, “I did not lure you up here. We are working.”

  “Is that the story you’re going with? You want me. I see it in your eyes.”

  His large hand goes around my neck. He isn’t choking but applying enough pressure to send chills over my body. Anyhow, we cannot start anything with people downstairs. Someone is bound to come looking for us.

  “We don’t need to be alone for you to kiss me. We could’ve done that downstairs.”

  His eyes twinkle. “Babe, we’ve already kissed enough. Clearly, you know what I want next.”

  “Well, the hints have been subtle if not screaming at me.”

  Smirking, he asks, “What are we waiting for?”

  “I want to be wined and dined. Baby, I want to be seduced in style. Just like you didn’t want to do it in the woods, I don't want to be taken on some old, dusty bed in a hot, stinky attic,” I say, rolling my neck.

  Leaning even closer to me, he says, “Okay, I’ll roll out the red carpet for you. I’ll even wait on you hand and foot.”

  “Mm, that sounds nice. I’ve never had the royal treatment before.”

  “Let me give you a preview.” He pushes me on the bed, coming on top of me. His lips are close to my ear. “First I’m going to fuck you with my tongue, and then I’m going to fill you with my cock.”

  His body on top of me and his words send jolts throughout my body. Who would have known I like it when he talks dirty to me? Jonah presses his mouth to mine and kisses me with a passion I’ve never known. He devours me with his mouth, his tongue, and I feel his strong desire poking against my stomach. I’m dying.

  My body comes alive under his touch, and my mind overflows with lust and thoughts of how I want him to possess me here and now.

  Jonah ends the kiss and rolls off me leaving me panting and hot between the legs. I tried to make him hot and bothered, and he ended up doing it to me.

  “Damn, that mouth of yours should be illegal,” he growls.

  I smile. The same could be said about him, but I’m not telling him that—not yet, anyway. I’m not in a position to start something I can’t finish. I get off the bed and fix my bun that has come undone. “We better get downstairs.”

  “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

  The day has turned to night. We are lazing around after eating pizza and downing a case of beer. The guys worked hard planting the flowers, trimming the shrubs, and putting down the mulch. Whatever Jonah said got those boys up and moving. They weren’t happy with me, and I don’t care; the bar looks great.

  I hand Jonah another beer. He is practically dead on his feet. “Whenever you’re ready we can go.”

  He looks up at me and stretches his legs. “I’m beat. You worked my ass off today.”

  “Quit whining,” I tease him. I wonder how hard it would be to convince him to stay the night. What happened in the attic keeps playing in my head, steaming up my senses. Heck, we are so tired that nothing would happen but sleep.

  Loud noises outside shake everyone up. “What was that?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” Jonah answers as he jumps out of the chair, running to the front door.

  I am on his heels when we step outside. My mouth drops and my heart falls to my feet. The long hours, the money put into improving the yard, everything is gone. Jonah holds me up as I watch the back wheel of Tequeela’s bike rip the newly laid landscaping to shreds.

  Revving the engine, Tequeela looks at me. Her face is pure evil. She doesn’t care that Jonah’s boys are going after her. If this is her death wish, she’s got it. I get angrier as the commotion escalates. She has them going in circles in the parking lot. I see Dawn on her bike, gunning hard for any member of Tequeela’s crew.

  Gravel is flying, and my heart is racing. I have to do something. I start to run off the porch, but Jonah grabs me. “I’m going to kill her! Let me go, dammit,” I scream.

  “Calm down, Carrie. I got this.”

  “No. Tequeela is finally getting what she wants—a fight. I’m going to beat her ass like a Christmas turkey.”

  “Carrie!” Jonah yells. “Look. Open your eyes and look.”

  I stop fighting with Jonah to see Cowboy and Brick have corralled the Hell Dolls. Cowboy is dragging Tequeela up on the porch. I don’t know if he hit her or what, but she looks shocked.

  “I’m going to let you go. Are you good?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m all right.” I’m lying as I look the woman I loathe dead in the eyes.

  “White girl, you like the new yard?” Tequeela is joking when she should be worried about her safety.

  “You got a lot of nerve, Tequeela. Look around, idiot; you’re outnumbered!”

  “I don’t give a shit about these dickheads. This is between you and me. You got my aunt fired, bitch. Now you’re gonna pay.”

  Norma was fired? I hadn’t heard any rumors around the office. Tequeela pushes me on the shoulder. Jonah steps between us. I shove him aside.

  I crack my neck and say, “Jonah, I can handle this.”

  “Babe, are you sure?”

  “Don’t worry, Jonah, I got her back,” Dawn interjects.

  I take a deep breath and say forcefully, “Both of you have to let me do this myself. If I can’t, I might as well give up everything the Lady Guardian’s stand for. I refuse to be Tequeela’s bitch anymore.”

  “If you insist on fighting Godzilla, there will be ground rules,” Jonah states. “Listen up: the fight is between Tequeela and Carrie. Any of you Hell Dolls that get antsy and want to jump in, be prepared to have your ass capped. Am I clear?”

  Then I hear the clicks of guns cocking, echo in the air. I start to shake. I just keep digging myself in deeper. Lord, B2R has created a human barrier to prevent the Hell Dolls from passing. Maybe I should have listened to my mother.

  Jonah and Dawn step away, and he instruct
s Cowboy to back off Tequeela. They don’t go far though. I can hear them talking in the background.

  “We’re going to stand here and let her fight that tank?” Dawn asks Jonah.

  He replies, “You heard what she said. Look, I want you to jump in if it gets out of control.”

  I ignore them and face my nemesis, who is holding up fists the size of shoeboxes. My heart is beating like mad, and I’ll probably have a heart attack before the first punch is thrown, but I’m ready. Remembering what Cliff taught me, I post up.

  “Here I am,” I say with my arms outstretched. “You might look like Mike Tyson with dreads, but I’m not afraid of you. You will no longer bully me, Tequeela. It ends tonight!”

  “You stupid prima donna. Imma enjoy beating your ass,” she snarls before landing a punch on my jaw. I stumble backward and off the porch to fall on my ass in the dirt. I hear Dawn cursing up a storm behind me.

  I’m not out for the count yet and don’t waste time on the ground in pain. Tequeela is looking down at me, salivating. I jump up, ready to fight. I swing my fists, hoping to hit her. The sound of my fist making contact with the bones in her face hurts my ears. I know I landed a hit when she falls down.

  However, she rebounds and heads straight for me. I kick her so hard she loses her balance. I’m in control again and kick her in the kidney. I drop to my knees, using all my weight to grind her head in the dirt. I want her to eat the horse manure mixed in with the mulch.

  She flips me on my back, but I maneuver my body so she can’t get on top of me. I’m tired and out of breath. Pure adrenaline coursing through my veins keeps me fueled.

  I run up on the porch, but Tequeela grabs me around the waist, trying to pull me to her. Holding on to the banister, I kick at her as hard as I can. I feel my foot plant solidly in the middle of her chest. She loses her footing on the stairs releasing me as she falls. Suddenly, it’s all moving in slow motion, as I watch her head hit the shovel on the ground bounce up, then fall to the ground again. Blood is spreading from under her head. Tequeela is not moving.