Charged (7 page)

“Well, what does it need? Actually, ya know what? Fuck it, I really don’t give a shit. What I need is you back on that Cobra. James needs its tailgate and hood for some project in Vegas.” He eyes me up and down like a menu board, looking at me
hard,
squinting his eyes like he recognizes me. Fuck, I hate that. “Get her fixed and out of here.” And with that parting comment he turns back towards the shop without another word. 

Now I’m even more scared of being stuck in rural Mississippi. One old bastard looking me over like he knows me and one guy who turns me on, even though I should avoid him at all costs. 

Ryker turns back to me after Jack leaves, breathing out a sigh of relief. It’s as if he was expecting a different outcome to the confrontation. Gruffly, he pulls in a breath then slowly releases it. 

“You know, Hazel has been looking for some help. I’ll ask her if you can work for her for a bit.” He reaches forward, brushing a stray set of hairs away from my face.

“I can’t stay long, so I don’t think I’ll be of much help to her. It could only be short term, and she may not want that. Most don’t.” I’m scared of this whole situation, but it has nothing to do with Hazel or money. “How long will it take you to fix it up?”

“Give me a week, at least. I have to get this car job done for Jack, then I’ll get your precious Creature up and running.” 

A week. Shit. I guess I can do that, as long as I lay low and stay out of sight. I could work at Hazel’s, serving food and drinks. It’s definitely not my first time, and I’ll be out of here quickly. Maybe this time I’ll head to Canada. White tundra, Eskimos and deer. Promising; not so much, but at least if I’m not wanting to be there, there’s a good chance GF won’t either.

Ryker

F
uck. When Jack came out of the garage, I thought he’d lose his shit about me working on that crap car. I know how badly he wants both the Cobra and the Bird gone, so I’m amazed he kept his cool with her standing right there. I better get my head on straight.

The way she’d pressed up against my junk — I was having a fuckin’ fit holding
my
shit together. I wanted to wrap her legs around my waist and fuck her senseless against the wrecked engine, right then and there, in full view of the shop, just like I almost did with Kendra.

Damn, it felt so right having her little body pressed against my cock, I almost took her up on that offer of sex; but I’m better than that. I never have, and never will pay for sex — even in trade. The only way her and I are having sex is because we want it, not because she thinks she needs to pay off a debt. 

What I really wonder is, what could have a little thing like her so scared and feeling that sex is the way out of a predicament? She seems so afraid of staying still, even for a few days, and though I understand that feeling of having nothing — and her car is the definition of nothing — she was more than afraid of just that. I’ve been there, too.

When I was shipped down here as a kid, I brought nothing and had no one. I’d never met Jack until that day and it was the worst day of my life. I didn’t get to bring a toy, nor clothes, heck not even something to remind me of my mother, who’d just been taken from me. 

One day I was at school — fifth grade science to be exact — dissecting a lizard, when the principal pulled me from class to tell me that she had died, and that there was a car waiting out front for me. Jack introduced himself, then said it was time to go. It was so rushed. 

Just like any other kid that age, I didn’t argue. I did as I was told because my mom would have wanted it that way. Jack’s shiny new Mustang sat out front, and as I was led away to a new life, I left without a thought to what was being left behind. We drove for days, stopping very little; only enough to get food and fuel. 

Now, it’s been almost twenty years and my story has a lot more pages in it, some good, some bad. I have the feeling there’s more to Kate’s story, too. For a girl like her to be afraid to stand still, my guess is, there has to be more bad pages then good.

Kate

I
thought about what he’d said about working for Hazel for a few days. I’ve got the skills, and she definitely could use the extra hands. A couple extra bucks will totally help me for the trip out of town, too. I still made enough off the ring to cover what I owe for the repairs, and maybe, just maybe, enough to pay for a place to stay while I’m here. I’m not averse to sleeping in my car, but I could definitely use a shower. It’s been days, and I’m sure I’m getting ripe. 

In a college town like this, I’m sure there has to be cheap accommodations somewhere. I’ll have to ask Hazel about that, too. She might know someone looking for a quick buck while a roommate is away or something. 

I walk back into the Harvester as Hazel slips by with a tray of teetering drinks. She places them deftly on the table, not spilling a drop, then clears the empties and takes the food order from the jocks at the next table over. They’re easy to pick out — what with their letterman jackets, basketball on the ground beside them and their obvious extensive height. One of the kids at the table reaches around behind Hazel, grabbing her ass. 

I gotta give it to her, she doesn’t even flinch. I’d have given him a fast slap to the cheek, then bounced his face off the table, but not Hazel. She bends down low to speak in his ear. 

“Kid look, I’m old enough to probably be your mothers’ mom. I bet she was a right ripe peach when she became pregnant with you at sixteen, but she’d have smacked you across the face faster than you can speak your own name for grabbing me. So I’d get your hands off my ass or you’ll regret it, pumpkin.”

His friend sitting close hears the conversation, he looks back to see where his friend’s grubby mitts are, then fist pumps him and their other teammates before yelling out, “taken’ on a cougar!” 

Without missing a beat, Hazel sets down the tray of dishes on the table behind her, pinches the new kid’s ass cheek with one hand, and grabs his balls hard in the other. He grunts, doubling over on the table. 

“Sweetie, I’m far from a cougar, and you will use respect when you come to
my
restaurant. Savvy?” 

He nods his head in agreement, straining to get words out in his shaky Texan drawl. “I’m sorry ma’am. I don’t know where my manners went. My momma taught me better.” She releases his junk, picks up her tray, and turns back sweetly. 

“If you need anything else,
sugar
, just call.” 

I could work for her no doubt.

“Um, Hazel? Ryker told me my car is probably gonna cost me a fortune to fix. I’ve been a waitress more than most people my age, and not that I don’t think you can handle the crowd, but I’m sure you could use a break. I just…I could really use the money.” I’m fully enthralled at the balls she obviously possesses, and maybe even a little awestruck.

I open the door for her and stand to the side before entering back into the cool, air conditioned building. It’s packed inside with rowdy students, frat house kids, and girls with tops that are nearly nonexistent. 

Hazel puts all the dishes into trays, wipes down her serving platter, then turns to me, sizing me up. I’m used to it. I don’t look like much, and I’m taken for granted a great many times. 

“Can ya’ make a grasshopper?”

“Yeah.” 

“How about Martini’s, Sex on the beach and White Russian?” 

“I dated a black Russian if that counts,” I quip sarcastically while nodding my head in agreement. “How about a dick’ll do, cosmo, four godfathers, any kind of car bombs, seventeen twist, ten deep—”

“Got it. You know how to make shooters. That will go a long way here on Friday’s, but can you take an order?” She quickly rhymes off a list of three burger combo’s with various condiments, two drinks, a salad — dressing on the side — and three different deserts. I take her note pad, write it in short form for the cook and recite it back perfectly to her. 

“K, well as you see, there’s no time like the present.” She turns to the cook window and yells, “Gus, this is Kate. She’s gonna do some time here. Help her out and don’t be a dick.” He flips her the bird while he tosses a salad deftly; I like him already. 

“Aprons are behind the counter, over where the dish rags are. Pay is shit, so don’t expect much. Kids’ don’t tip neither, so ya’ ain’t gonna get rich. Won’t be more than a few bucks by days end.” I nod my agreement and smile as I put my bag behind the counter.

While Hazel leaves me to go tend some other tables I grab an apron and get to work.

Ryker

J
ack did bust my balls about the girl. For about an hour straight, he told me how much of a pussy I was for letting a piece of ass get to me. My cock was still a semi by the time I walked back into the shop and over to the cherry red Cobra. I knew she was gonna be trouble for me. Hell, I was fully immersed in those eyes from the second she turned my way. Tipping her chin up so she’d look directly at me, I’d become mesmerized by the golden hue surrounding sky blue. It had caused an instant hard on in my jeans. Even thinking on it now, I’m gonna have to hit the bathroom just to let off steam. 

I avoided her for the rest of the day, working on the panels of the Cobra, stripping it down, wrapping them up carefully and setting it all to the side for tomorrow, when James arrives. I knew that if Jack saw me dickin’ around, I was due for a massive rain of fists, and that old bastard still packs a punch, even if I can hold my own. It wasn’t until a few years back that I’d learned Jack’s history. Sure, I still knew nothing of my dad, or what really happened to make Jack hate him so much, but I had more on Jack than I did as a kid. 

This guy had come by for a shipment one time, and called him ‘Cable’.  The look on Jack’s face when he’d said it told me more than anything ever had — he was pissed to hear it. Like
fucking
pissed. So after Jack took off to get paperwork, I asked why he called Jack, ‘Cable’. 

It turned out his fighting name had once been, Jack ‘The Cable’ Capello. The prick said it was because Jack’s arms were so trim, you could see the tendons; like cables running through them. He said he’d been one of the best underground fighters the mob had ever fronted in Brooklyn, back in the day. Jack was so good, he’d made all of them rich. 

I’m sure Jack had placed his own side bets, and that’s how he had enough to start this place way back when. Over the years of course, he’s had a constant stream of ‘referrals’, allowing for the expansion of his little enterprise.