Axe’s Fall(18)
Tilting his chin to Axe, Chas asked, “What’s the matter with him?”
Jax popped some more olives in his mouth. “Got pussy—or, I should say, lack of pussy—on the brain.”
Chas chuckled. “Yo, brother, you do seem like you’re going through a dry spell, especially since you got back from Denver. Banger even noticed you’ve been weird.”
“We think he may have met someone there, and he’s getting prime pussy and doesn’t want to share.” Jerry laughed then motioned to the prospect for another shot.
Axe sat silent as he tried to quell the rage building inside him. If he didn’t temper it, he’d end up bashing some heads, and then Banger would be really pissed at him. Damn, they’re right.
“So, did you meet someone?” Chas prodded.
Axe clenched his jaw and continued to stare ahead. Fuck yeah, I met someone, but I don’t know who she is.
“You gonna tell us who?” Jax asked.
“More importantly, are you gonna share her? Not with these two, of course.” Jerry pointed to Jax and Chas. “They’re tied down already. But with me?”
Axe narrowed his eyes. When I find her, I’m not sharing her with anyone. What the fuck is wrong with me? Jerry and I, and sometimes Throttle, love sharing women. Threesomes and foursomes is the way I usually roll around the club. What is it about this woman? Fuck, I don’t even know her name!
“Nope, Jerry, I don’t think he’s gonna share. She must be something real special for our buddy to keep her all to himself.” Jax clapped Axe on the shoulder.
Axe knocked Jax’s hand off him and downed his beer. He pushed away from the bar and looked at them. “Fuck the hell off.”
As he sauntered out, their guffaws surrounded him. Axe held up his middle finger high in the air and exited the clubhouse.
The Harley jumped to life as he switched on the engine. Sitting on his humming bike, Axe took out his phone and stared at the blank screen for a minute. The magenta-tinted clouds bathed the biker in a warm glow, the heat of the day dissipating as the coolness of the night crept in. Axe put his phone away, then took it back out and sent a text to Derek. He had to fucking know. Shifting gears, he left the compound and rode out into the open space.
Chapter Six
Knock. Knock. Knock. Baylee covered her head with the pillow. Knock. Knock. Knock. Louder that time.
“Ugh…” Baylee threw her pillow on the floor and propelled herself out of bed, padding to the door bleary-eyed. Opening it a crack, she groaned when she saw the broad smile on Logan’s face.
“Why in the hell would you be knocking at my door at seven in the morning?” she asked as she tried to finger-comb her bed-hair.
“I thought you’d be up. We have an important job to do, and you’re always so early and eager to get started.”
“We don’t have to be at the firm until nine o’clock. That’s like, in two hours.”
“Thought you might want to grab some breakfast. We can go over our strategy.”
“I don’t do breakfast. A strong cup of coffee, black, is all I need. Oh, and before you get any ideas, I don’t do lunch, either.”
“Wow. How do you function?”
Baylee shrugged.
“Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the restaurant for coffee. Say, in thirty minutes?”
“I’ll meet you at the firm at nine. Go away, Logan.”
“You’re cranky in the morning, aren’t you?”
Sighing, Baylee closed the door and trudged back to bed. What was Logan up to? They’d worked together for a little more than two years—she knew him, knew he wasn’t being solicitous for the hell of it. Perhaps he was awkward being in a new place and not knowing anyone but her, but Baylee was sure he was up to something. Maybe he was cozying up to her to find out what her ideas were, then he’d steal them from her and claim them as his own. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something devious like that on his climb up the firm ladder.
Baylee tried to get another hour of shut-eye before she had to start her day, but sleep eluded her; she tossed and turned, mashing her pillow to re-fluff it. Cursing Logan, she shuffled to the bathroom to take a shower.
An hour later, she slipped on a sleeveless, light gray pencil dress with a hemline that rose slightly above her knee. The dress hugged her in all the right places, showing off her curves in a subtle and professional manner. Light gunmetal four-inch pumps completed her look. Checking herself in the mirror, she swiped peach lip gloss over her nude lipstick. With her black leather briefcase and matching clutch bag in hand, she left her room.
Driving around Pinewood Springs was a breeze. That was one thing she hated about Denver—the constant traffic. It took forever to traverse the big city, but in less than ten minutes, she pulled her car in the firm’s parking lot. Small-town living has its perks.