Rusty Cage (Rawlins Heretics MC Book 1) Read online

  “Did you guys like Ginger?”

  Makoa stops making machine noises long enough to say, “She said we can come to her house and swim.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  Like most days, the kids remain restless after school. They have homework to do soon, so my questions keep them from their last chance to play while the sun is still out. I take the hint and go inside.

  Mom stops cutting peppers and looks back at me. I frown at her, and she frowns back. No doubt she’s scarier.

  “Why do you look like someone pissed in your cereal, Oz?”

  “I wanted Ginger to stay for dinner.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Did she plan to stay for dinner and changed her mind?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would you expect her to stay?”

  “I wanted her to stay and get to know the kids.”

  Mom shakes her head. “I sense she barely knows you. Why push the children on her so quickly?”

  “She runs from her feelings.”

  “That’s her choice.”

  “No, not really.”

  “Oz, your arrogance will scare her away,” she says, and I hear the irritation in her voice at my behavior.

  “Or it’ll keep her from running away from what’s obvious.”

  “And what is that?”

  “She belongs to me.”

  “Oh, really?” Mom asks, arching her eyebrow.

  “Ginger’s body, heart, and soul already belong to me, but her brain keeps standing in the way.”

  “Common sense will do that.”

  “I know you don’t like her.”

  “I like her fine. She’s not like the idiot sluts you normally run with. She won’t give up what’s hers. You should keep that in mind if you want her to belong to you. Once you do, you can’t escape.”

  “Good.”

  “You say that now.”

  “I’ll say that forever.”

  “Such a romantic like your father.”

  “I’ve spent all these years thinking I wasn’t suited to one woman,” I admit and sit at the table. “Now I realize I just hadn’t met Ginger yet. Why should I fuck around and pretend otherwise?”

  “You shouldn’t, but not everything is about you.”

  I study her suspiciously. “You like how she wants us to move to town.”

  “That was happening anyway. You can only put it off for so long.”

  “Finding a landlord who wants kids and cats won’t be easy.”

  “You’re good at intimidating people into doing what you want,” Mom says and returns to cooking. “Why haven’t you tried using those skills to find us a new home?”

  “I don’t want to talk about moving or Ginger.”

  “So stubborn, not at all like your father. You get that from me.”

  Grinning, I kiss the top of her head and look out the window to where the kids fight Decepticons.

  “I can easily imagine Ginger turning off what she feels for me and never letting me close again. The thought kills me inside, so I crowd her.”

  “You worry for nothing. She came here and met your children. She even ate the coleslaw I put too much vinegar in. For a woman like her, she made a big move.”

  “I hope so. Soon, she’ll move into her townhome, and I’ll lose a reason to run into her.”

  “You’re working together in other ways. Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “She has me in the palm of her hand, and I see her throwing me away. Call me a drama bitch, but I refuse to let her go.”

  “Don’t then.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Fine.”

  “Did you really put too much vinegar in the coleslaw?” I ask while stirring the pot of rice.

  Smirking, Mom continues chopping an onion. I open the fridge and take out the plastic container holding the coleslaw. Sniffing it, I smell nothing off. I dip my finger into the food and take a bite. Nothing tastes wrong at first, and then I’m struck by a violent kick of vinegar flavor. Frowning at Mom, I catch her laughing.

  “It’s my job to test the women you bring around,” she explains.

  “I’ve never brought one around before.”

  “Exactly and I had no warning Ginger was coming, so I did my best on the spur.”

  “Did she pass?” I ask while leaning next to her at the sink.

  “That she did. I very much like how she pretended you didn’t mention your Hawaiian ancestry. The woman knows how to push buttons.”

  “That she does.”

  Mom shakes her head, thinking of Ginger’s stubborn nature. One more bullheaded person in this family might prove too much, but I’m more than willing to take the chance. For Ginger, I’m willing to do a lot of things.

  Chapter Nine

  hehena

  ➸ Ginger ☆

  Building a legal business takes time and patience. Illegal businesses are quick and dirty. As much as I should embrace the former, I’m emotionally drawn to the latter. I don’t do “normal” well. Staying at the B&B is driving me frickin bonkers. I can’t stand how pristine everything is. Or how sitting on the front porch gives everyone in Rawlins a view. I’m past ready to move into the townhomes complex with its massive security fence and privacy brush.

  More than anything, I want to fuck Oz. No, maybe I’d rather have never met him. I both love and hate the way he makes me feel. Meeting his kids calmed my fears about his role as a father while also freaking me out about having a role as a mother. Nothing is ever easy, and I’m struggling to deal with my restless emotions.

  At breakfast, Pepper says she heard a courier working for the Heretics has a bad habit of delivering less product to Rawlins than he’s given in Little Rock. I get it into my head that this problem is now my problem, and I will handle it. After all, I can crush thieves with my eyes closed.

  Relationships equal emotional havoc. Beating up assholes equals a relaxed sense of purpose. No real downside there.

  Tracking down the asshole, I give him a textbook beatdown until Oz shows up to piss on my good mood.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Oz growls and yanks back my hand doing the punching.

  Frowning up at his brilliantly sexy face, I wish I could smack him in the same way I am the courier. Oz’s expression nearly reduces me to the needs of a child wanting his approval. I’ll do anything to turn his frown upside down. Then I remember how he ought to be worrying about my smiles since he’s the one interrupting my work.

  “I didn’t do nothing!” the fathead courier cries when I only glare at Oz.

  Frowning, I shove him against a tree. “He isn’t talking to you.”

  “I’ve got this handled,” Oz says, trying to remove my hand form the turd’s dirty shirt.

  “I was just about to say the same.”

  Oz leans down, erasing several inches between our heights. “This is my responsibility. If you don’t think so, give your buddy, Joker, a call.”

  “You aren’t handling him, though. I know that because he’s still breathing.”

  “I gave him a final warning.”

  “Screw that warning. I believe in making an example of someone, so the flock is aware of what happens when they step out of line.”

  “I. Have. This. Handled,” Oz says, emphasizing each word.

  The courier nods and tells me, “He has this handled.”

  I retrieve my bowie knife from the holster in my jacket. “I’ll eviscerate him and use his intestines to tie him to a tree. That’s how you make someone respect your word.”

  “Only the weak need to embrace such overkill,” Oz says.

  “What would you suggest?”

  “I say you cut off his eyelids, ears, and tongue. Fingers and toes too. Let him live to scare the flock as you call them. People should have a constant reminder of what happens when I’m unhappy. Your way is too fast.”

  “What keeps him from ratting you out or coming for revenge?”

  “Wh
at’s he going to do with no fingers?”

  “You’d be surprised what he could accomplish. I knew a guy who was missing a hand and several fingers, and he still became a bomb maker in Memphis. Death might not scar the sheep psychically as much as your idea, but death means he can’t come back to screw with you.”

  “I’m not good with either option,” the courier says.

  I slam the handle of my blade into his nose, breaking the bone. “Don’t speak to me.”

  “I have this handled,” Oz says again as if I’ll become entranced by the repetition.

  “You can’t stop wagging your dick long enough to admit I’m right.”

  “And you can’t stop puffing out your chest long enough to admit you’re wrong.”

  Shoving my chest out, I glare at him. “If you and your boys can’t keep your people in line, don’t be surprised when my girls and I step in to fix your shit.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with this asshole,” he says, knocking the guy down and stomping on his fingers. “You’re distracting yourself from how badly you need fucking and how much you know I’m the one to do the job.”

  “You’re the one who brings up fucking so much. I think you’re the one with a problem.”

  Oz grabs a half-used bottle of water from a nearby picnic table. After tearing off the lid, he splashes the drink against my chest.

  “If you’re not hornier than a teenage boy in a whorehouse, then how come your nipples are pointing daggers at me?”

  I grab the bottle from his hand and throw it at his face. The plastic makes a boinking sound when it ricochets off his forehead. Oz only smiles and gestures toward my wet chest.

  “You’re a terrible human being,” I sneer, wanting to tear someone apart.

  “Hi, pot, meet kettle.”

  I let out a primal roar that normally would be followed by a violent blitz. Since I can’t carve up this infuriating, handsome bastard, I take off running toward my Harley with the plan of getting the fuck away from him before someone besides the loser ends up bloody.

  ➸ Oz ★

  Ginger’s wet “Burritos & Beer” T-shirt reveals her white bra underneath and two very excited nipples just waiting for me to suck. I’d fuck her right here in the trailer park if not for a) I don’t do exhibitions and b) Ginger’s back on the run. Without knowing what’ll happen once I catch her, I give chase.

  Her Harley doesn’t head for the B&B, instead racing toward the highway. I’m several car lengths behind her, and I catch Ginger glancing back to see me. We’re easily twenty miles over the speed limit, but I’ve driven faster. Based on her ease avoiding cars, I assume Ginger embraces speed often too.

  I have no idea where she’s heading. We’re far from Rawlins by the time she makes a last-minute right to make an exit. I nearly skid out trying to reach the same exit. I still end up breaking a few laws to loop back to the exit, but the road is nearly empty with not a cop in sight.

  By the time I exit, I’ve lost track of Ginger, but she couldn’t have gone far. At the end of the off-ramp, I have two choices. Either I take a left into farmland or a right toward businesses. Ginger pulled over for a reason, so I assume she needs gas. I don’t spot her Harley at the two stations. Making two passes down the main road, I worry she did ride toward the farmland for some reason.

  Then I hear her Harley revving loud enough to be heard over the nearby traffic. I glance over my shoulder to find her in a motel parking lot. Making a U-turn, I speed toward her like a heat-seeking rocket locking onto its blazing hot target.

  Ginger stands with her back to an open door of a motel room. She waits for me to park and then she tugs off one of her boots and throws it at me. Watching her disappear into the room, I easily catch her shoe and hurry to the door before it closes. I shove my way inside, only to find Ginger’s other shoe flying at my head. I bat that one away too, causing her to laugh.

  “What’s the play here?” I ask, locking the door to make her escape more difficult.

  Ginger peeks out of the bathroom and tosses her still damp shirt at me in the middle of the room.

  “I can’t tell if I hate you or love you, Oz Savo,” she says and steps out of the dark bathroom to use her bra as a slingshot. “Let’s just fuck and see how we feel once the lust stops blinding us.”

  “I’m not blind,” I say, enjoying the sight of her tits and already feeling the heat of them against the palms of my hands. “I can clearly see how your nipples remain rock hard.”

  “And I can see how your dick barely fits in your jeans. I guess I was wrong about the lust thing. Why don’t you throw my bra back to me?”

  Smiling, I tug off my shirt. “What do you see now?”

  Ginger lowers her jeans and wiggles down her panties. Then she gives me a magnificent view by turning around to tug free her socks. Smiling back at me, she stands up and gestures for me to undress.

  “Come closer,” I demand.

  “No.”

  “Can we not fight long enough to fuck?”

  “Not unless you’ll keep your mouth shut and follow instructions.”

  “No, then.”

  A smiling Ginger glances down at my crotch. “Lose the pants, so I can see what I’ll soon have inside me.”

  “Shit,” I mutter, nearly coming when I hear her words.

  I slowly pop the button on my jeans and lower the zipper. Wanting her to wait for my reveal, I demand control over a situation she’s manipulated until now. My jeans drop, and I let her enjoy how my cock bulges through my boxers. As if to steal back the power, Ginger squeezes her breasts possessively, even giving her thick red nipples a pinch.

  “Bitch,” I growl, knowing she refuses to hand me control.

  “I’m waiting for you.”

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  “I’m clean. Checked ten times after Madden even though we always used a condom. Something about him always made me nervous.”

  “Never say his name again.”

  Ginger ignores my angry tone and asks, “When was the last time you got laid?”

  “Months ago.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I didn’t want to share chicks with the club guys now that I’m president. Or maybe I was waiting for you.”

  “When were you last checked?”

  “The day after I met you.”

  Ginger smirks. “Of course, you did. Anything to report?”

  “I have a huge, healthy dick.”

  “Show me.”

  I reach into my boxers and stroke my cock, refusing to let her have what she wants. “Get on the bed and spread your legs.”

  “Let me see your cock.”

  “Sure, once your pussy is waiting for me.”

  Ginger leans back on the balls of her feet and then rolls forward. Her tits bounce alluringly. Cocking an eyebrow, she murmurs, “I notice your pre-cum is leaking through your boxers. Maybe you should pull out your cock and let me see what you’re packing.”

  “How wet is your pussy right now? I bet you’re not even ready for my cock. Better keep teasing those nipples until your pussy is leaking like my cock.”

  “Aren’t you worried you’ll come before I’ve gotten myself ready?” she taunts while licking her thumbs and index fingers.

  I watch her take her wet digits and stroke her nipples the way my tongue aches to do. My hand works faster at my erection.

  “Coming now doesn’t keep me from being rock hard when your pussy stops being the Sahara Desert and is ready to be fucked.”

  “Sahara Desert, huh?” she asks and lowers one hand to the spot where her blonde pubes beckon for my attention. I watch her spread her pussy open and slide her finger between what I can only imagine tastes like heaven. “Feels pretty damp to me. Perhaps, it’ll get Amazon rainforest wet if I play with my clit.”

  Ginger holds my gaze and teases a spot I plan to soon own. When I stroke myself faster, her fingers follow the same speed. Suddenly, we’re having a contest to see who can come first. />
  What the fuck is wrong with us?

  Letting go of my dick, I move at Ginger with enough speed to keep her from reacting. I sweep her off the ground and just as quickly drop her onto the bed and cover her body with mine.

  “You win,” I say before kissing Ginger.

  Hearing the magic words, she spreads her legs under me and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. I inch down my boxers just enough for the head of my cock to find its way into Ginger. I thrust into Ginger who shoves her hips against mine, craving me deeper.

  I want to own more than every inch of her body. Ginger is the only woman to make me doubt myself, and she’s the only woman to make me feel invincible. I can’t just fuck her. Or simply possess her body. I need to rule her heart until submitting to me isn’t an affront to everything she thinks Ginger Snaps stands for.

  ➸ Ginger ☆

  I’m no shrinking violet, and I certainly know my way around a dick, but my pussy still painfully stretches to fit him. I swear if I wasn’t on my way to an orgasm when he shoves me on the bed and forces his way inside my body that I would have smacked him upside the head and broken free. Fortunately for us both, Oz has me worked into a frenzy before even touching me.

  Fucking me like a man on a mission, Oz lacks finesse. He’s a caveman claiming the woman he clubbed over the head. I shouldn’t love his frantic fucking. I should demand he stop, just so I can regain control of the situation. Instead, I don’t even try to keep up while he thrusts us closer to mutual animalistic orgasms.

  “Fuck,” I groan, feeling so close to touching a blissful ending to a building painful pleasure.

  “Shit,” Oz moans, sounding both pissed and in heaven.

  My fingers slide across his flexing back muscles. I reach down to feel the hard, round ass of a man pumping weeks of pent-up need into my body. Even if I didn’t get my taste of heaven, I can’t deny the expression on his face is mighty magical. I study every tensing muscle and wait for them to slowly unclench.

  “Fuck.”

  “I know,” I say, pushing him back.