Black and White (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 1) (2 page)

When I came back in from another round outside the two were playing pool. They sipped intently at fresh beers and the short guy saved his glares for the cue ball. The taller one had his jacket off and his back to me. His t-shirt rippled with every twitch of him.

“Hey baby, you going to stick around a bit after we close?” Marissa asked as she dropped off a tray.

“I think I’ll go find someplace a bit more lively,” I said.

She followed my gaze. “Ah, Miss Meagan finally wants a bit of danger.”

“No,” I sighed. “I just want to have a life again.”

CHAPTER TWO

Vaughn

“Bitch can’t stop looking,”

“I’m not blind, Thurge,” I said.

“She must be in heat something fierce.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not her fault, you know. Can’t control it any more than a dog could.”

“Just shut up and take the goddamn shot.”

Thurge grunted under the swaying cone of light and tweaked the pool cue another degree or so. I sipped at the beer to keep my anger in check. I didn’t even know why he was getting under my skin tonight. He wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t said a hundred times before.

He pumped the stick once and the table clattered with motion. I pieced together the angles and saw myself lose two solids right before they sank into the pockets, along with the white cue ball. Thurgood fished it out and nodded to it like he were its commanding officer before handing it over.

“Is that what you were waiting to see, pretty boy?” he asked, as he sauntered over to his beer.

“Savor the moment,” I said. “You won’t be feeling it for long.”

I stalked around the board mapping out the battlefield. In pure numbers, my cause was long lost. Thurge had had a good long run. But he’d overstretched his supply lines and now I had a chance to act. As I got around to the other edge, it became a sure thing that I could tilt the odds in my favor. I dropped the white ball and bent in to set it just right.

My eyes drifted past the table. Thurge hadn’t been wrong. The black waitress had her dark eyes set on me – or my gaze sent hers skittering. She started an intense conversation with the Mexican waitress next to her. Her dark bob of hair shimmered as she forced a laugh.

I shook her from my thoughts and set my sights back on the ball. I drew the stick back, made a few fine adjustments and struck home. The balls rattled out. Two stripes sunk into pockets and the white ball cozied up right next to another one.

“Lucky,” Thurge grumbled.

“That ain’t luck, son,” I said. “That’s god given talent.”

“Only thing god gave you was a sharp tongue.”

“I’d be ok with that. Nothing wrong with being able to keep a woman happy.”

I took the next shot without a second of setup, but then I had a tough choice to make. I swung back and forth along a corner, while Thurge shouted abuse my way.

A sudden commotion billowed at the bar. I snapped up. It was just the bartender and the waitresses laughing, nothing big, but my eyes went immediately to the black girl’s profile – her wide brow drawn back in surprise, her plump lips taut and wide, her narrow waist heaving against the stool.

I stayed on that scene a good while longer than I needed. There was no use lying to myself. I was looking at her. Nothing wrong with a look, as long as it stayed a look – that was my take. Calix might have a word or two to say about that, but, hell, you couldn’t stop light from hitting your eyes.

“Who’s dilly-dallying now?” Thurge asked.

“I didn’t want to shock that chubby little heart of yours with a lightning defeat,” I said, tearing myself away. “Thought I’d ease your little brain into the idea.”

“My brain may be small, brother, and so might be my heart. But that’s so I can put those inches to use somewhere else.” Thurge wiped his mouth clear of suds. “And if you don’t hurry the hell up with my so-called doom, you’ll find that somewhere slapping you upside the face.”

“Thought you were keeping it clean for our waitress.”

“Eh, I’ll slap on a rubber on if she warms up to me. Though I’ll be damned if she ain’t the vision of purity I dream of planting my seed in someday.”

“She is pretty fucking hot,” I nodded.

“I do hope we’re talking about the same waitress.”

“Fuck you.”

I took the shot, but I was off by a little. The cue ball didn’t quite push in a stripe. Thurge came over with a look of deep concern and patted my shoulder. I shoved him off and retreated to my beer. That should have been a sure thing. I was plain pissed now, way more than I should be. I didn’t have more than a twenty riding on the game, so it wasn’t that, but Thurge needed shutting up. He was the one who’d had us stop in this college town. Why was he trying to wind me up for every little twitch of my head?

“Ya know why I love pool?” he said, drawing out the shot.

“I know.”

“Because,” he breezed on. “For once, no one makes a fuss when a white puts a colored in its place. Everyone just sees it as the natural order.”

“Uh-huh.”

He took a strike and knocked out my last solid. He grinned that gap-toothed smile, aging a dozen years in his ill-gotten victory.

“And the best part,” he boomed, “is the coup de grace. You take out all the other colors, and it’s just white on black. Either you take the black out, or you lose. You can’t miss him with your shot, that’s a loss, and you can’t go down together, cause that’s an out too. No. Either you take out the black or he takes you out. It’s all just a matter of time.”

A bunch of college kids were setting up at the table next to use and a couple of them had glanced over at his sermon. I couldn’t figure out what they were, but they sure weren’t white. One tossed me a look, as if asking what I was doing with Thurge. I scowled back. He might be a wiseass, but he was my sworn brother. I’d backed him on the playground and I’d back him on a battlefield – if it came to that. I slung my jacket back on and zipped it up tight so everyone could see our pale mare of a logo.

Thurge missed the first try, but I scratched and he got another chance. I watched his eyes to see where he would go, and caught again that other pair of darker eyes from over his shoulder. She flicked over my jacket, taking in the bold white name. Now she’d know what I was. But it didn’t chase her off like it had the college kids. That warm look dripped over my body, her eyes half shut as if I were a dream to her. I sat mesmerized by her inky gaze.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Thurge’s roar slammed me out of it. The college kid it was aimed at still had his butt up in the air lining up his shot. The back of the stick jabbed out unseen at my buddy’s nose again. Thurge grabbed the guy and flipped him around. The guy looked confused but his other three friends lined up next to him like a brown picket fence. I shot up and flexed.

“You trying to start something, darkie?” Thurge spat into their faces.

“Sorry?” the prick with the cue asked back with a lilting high voice. I snorted and sat back down. Indians, fresh imports too – Thurge could handle the whole damn continent of ‘em.

“Not as sorry as I am to smell that curry breath,” Thurge said. “Why don’t you take that stick and go back home to wipe the shit off your streets?”

“Hey, fuck you, man,” one of his buddies yelled out in a hilarious accent, but one look from Thurge wilted him.

“You wanna fuck qwik-e-mart?” Thurge said. “Cause I got a stick right here that’s looking for a home.” He whapped the cue across his hand.

The four of them shrank back. Every eye in the bar sat witness to their disgrace, but a massive black man was working his way over to us.

“Hey,” he shouted as he marched up. “What’s all the hubbub?”

“This man, he is being racist,” one of the Indians shouted.

“Oh, I’m no racist, boy,” Thurge muttered. “Until you crossed the line separating us, I had no beef with you. Heh, no beef, get it?”

He chuckled at his own joke. Even I smirked.

“I heard the things you told them,” the bouncer said. “Now, I’ll give you a chance to apologize like a man, or I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

The fire lit up behind Thurge’s amber eyes. I’d seen that look before. I shot back to my feet as he said, “I ain’t got nothing to apologize to these towel heads for.”

“That’s it,” the giant said. “You’re out.”

“Fuck you, Sambo. This four eyed prick assaulted me. I got the right to sling a few choice words back.”

“Not those ones.” The bouncer’s massive paw landed on Thurge’s shoulder, but he swatted it off like a fly.

“Thurge.” I went over and patted his back. Our bikes were saddled with hot weapons – the serial numbers were stamped loud and clear. Now wasn’t the time.

I was almost eye-to eye with the bouncer. He glanced at my colors and shook his head. “Both of you have got to go right now.”

“It’s your lucky day,” I growled, then turned to Thurge. “Come on, hoss, let’s ride. At least we drank for free.”

Thurge locked eyes and shook his head once.

Aw, fuck.

“I’ll go,” he said to the bouncer. “I’ll leave this mud-puddle, but my friend ain’t done a thing. He’ll stay.”

I held firm, but I just wanted to sigh. He wanted me to stay and follow these guys out. That’s what that head shake had meant. I’d find out where the Indians lived so he could pay them a more personal visit.

“You sure?” I asked. “You don’t want me to go?”

“I’m sure, brother. Don’t worry. I’ll take your stuff home with me. Take all the time you need. ”

He slapped me on the back, made a go at the bouncer, then stalked out.

“You be good,” the black guy said to me. I stared back dead-eyed and he shrank to his post.

I sank back into my booth. Thurge had a real fire and brimstone streak to him. It made a fine counter with my live and let live protocol most of the time, but I hated when the balance tipped over to him. I’d helped him out with his little revenges before but the broken bones and open assault warrants left in his wake were more trouble than they were worth. At least other times, the source of conflict had been a real fight, but this had barely been a quarrel. I’d have his back, but unleashing him on them didn’t seem to quite suit the situation. I’d slash a few tires and tell him to call it even.

The Indians were setting up their triangle again. It was gonna be a while. I snapped my fingers for another drink, something with enough to dull the edge. It was the wrong day to be alone with my thoughts.

“How we doing over here?” A voice sang out.

I’d heard it just a couple times, but its melody had already found a home in my memory. I knew whose face I’d find beaming down, so I took my time getting there. The waitress had on low heels that made her wide hips rise pleasantly, a grey shirt with a Volcano logo that barely contained the full blooms of flesh up top and dark silky hair that bobbed behind her neck.

I landed on her face and found her flashing a smile as bright as any light in here. We stewed in a silent gaze. Her eyes were caramel up close and they flicked across me like splashes of sweet syrup.

“Two fingers of whiskey,” I said. “A nice amber one.”

“Aren’t all whiskies amber?”

“No, some are dark, some are light.” Her bare arms dangled inches away from me and I ticked my head at them. “I want one like you.”

Her cheeks went from amber to auburn at that, and I felt my own heat rise.

Vaughn, what the hell are you up to?

It was out now. I sank back and watch her face tumble through thoughts.

“So,” she said softly, “You want a piece of me to drink up?”

Her words came out low and sultry and sweet all at once. Goddamn, I wanted to suck her voice dry.

“Sounds perfect.”

She winked and flipped back around. I took a long pass at the way she wagged off – how each edge of her rear popped up as she switched through steps. I could barely tear my eyes away. Thurge might have been in one of his funks tonight, but I was in a mood I’d never been in before.

Mixing was wrong. I
knew
that. But was it still mixing if you didn’t end up with a product? It wasn’t a question that I’d even had to consider before tonight.

An hour ago, I would have said “hell, yes.”

Without Thurge’s restraint, my mind offered a dozen loopholes. It was amazing how easy a female figure could make you could shed twenty-three years of discipline.

She peeked over her shoulder from the bar, her dark eyes furrowed at my turmoil. All I could imagine was that same look, peering up at me, her face erupting into a moan as I slid into her.

Fuck it, whatever code the Storm’s Soldiers had, it also included getting what we wanted. And I wanted her.

I glanced at the table of Indians. Screw Thruge’s pissant revenge.

It wasn’t them I planned on following home tonight.

CHAPTER THREE

Meagan

I steadied myself at the bar and forced myself not to look again.

Why was I shivering? Oh yes, I’d seen the naked lust written all over that jutting white face, but I’d heard his friend. What kind of man would keep company like that?