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“Tomorrow evening. And as for your comment about muscle… we’ll need all the muscle we can get as back-up. We can all hold our own in a fight, and Riot invited two of his friends, Gale and Zeke to join us, too.”
“Okay. What are we hoping to find out? Jason can take us to Simon’s Club. We don’t need the old man for directions. And why not tell the police to join us?”
“We’re about to involve the Russian Mob in this. Last thing we need is cops breathing down our necks. We’ll talk to Dad, make sure nobody gets hurt, hopefully scare him a little, then when the MC goes down he’ll have no way to threaten us.”
“Until he finds someone else willing to beat people up for money. Not that hard, it seems.”
“He’s right,” Riot says, folding his arms over his chest. “Taking down the MC won’t solve your problems with your old man.”
“After the MC is shut down and the air clears, we’ll report him, find a way to bring him to justice,” Ocean says, looking me straight in the eye, and it feels like a promise. “Right, R?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I grumble, but I guess he’s right.
Not that I understand exactly how this will go down. I’ve never dealt with gangs and the Mob, and I’d been hoping never to have to. But I’ve seen first-hand the marks of Simon’s violence, and if he can be stopped, then I’m all for it. If it means Jason will be safe, that’s all I need to know.
“I talked some more with Jason yesterday.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, feeling heat seepi
ng into my neck when my memory takes its cue to replay every filthy detail of my “talk” with Jason. “He said Simon went after Jesse Lee because Jason wouldn’t put out. Wouldn’t join the MC and turn tricks to line Simon’s pockets. But after Jesse was hurt and their pimp died, Jason gave in.”
Ocean frowns. “He took Jesse’s place?”
I nod. “To keep him safe. To keep all of us safe. He sent his people away for this very reason, and has been paying every penny he makes to keep Simon happy. But it’s not enough. Time after time I’ve found him beaten up and worse.” I stop to control my rage before I start breaking things. “Simon Gomez is a sadist. And get this: he’s related to Jason. His family has fucked him over so much it makes my own parents look like fucking saints.”
“Son of a bitch,” Rafe mutters, baring his teeth, his hands curling into fists. “I’m gonna kill that bastard.”
“Stand in the fucking line,” I mutter.
Asher mutters a curse I can’t quite catch. “We’re taking that motherfucker down. Somehow.”
“We’ll figure this out,” Zane says, speaking for the first time, and we all fall silent, turning to look at him. Rafe may be the owner of the shop, and Riot may be our new mafia expert, but Zane is our natural leader. He runs a hand over the shaved side of his head, his dark blue mohawk like a warrior’s crest. “I wanted Ash and Tyler in, because they also have connections, in case the Mob backs out last minute. We protect our own, and you are our own, as is Jason Vega.”
I take a deep breath as I realize Ocean was right. This is my family, and the guys will come through for us, even if there’s danger.
“That’s right,” Rafe says, nodding. “This is a difficult situation, but we’ll find a way out of it. Failure is not an option. Simon Gomez hurt Jesse Lee, one of our own. Now he’s hurting Jason, and for all we know, he could come after any one of us. He has to be stopped.”
“Make sure Jason stays put,” Zane says and pushes off the desk where he’s parked his ass. “If the police end up getting involved, he’s a valuable witness, and I bet Simon will try to go after him. Keep him safe while we put Simon Gomez out of business.”
With that warning ringing in my ears, I make my way back home in the evening. The snowfall is thick, and I have to drive slow. I can barely see where I’m going. I pass by a drugstore to get Jason some over-the-counter cough drops and syrup, so it’s quite late by the time I park and trudge across the street and into the building.
So I’m not that shocked when I unlock the door to my apartment and find Jason sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep.
Still… he’s here, and a grin tugs at my lips as I let myself inside quietly and close the door with a soft click. I stalk over to him and crouch down in front of him. He’s put on a pair of my old sweats, the thin gray fabric molding to his long legs and riding low on his narrow hips. I resist the urge to trace all the ink and all the scars on his bare chest and arms.
He shivers in his sleep, and I consider pulling the blanket I keep draped on the back of the sofa over him.
Then I change my mind and reach for his waistband. After all, turnabout is fair play. I tug on it gently, and he arches a little, mumbling something that sounds like my name.
My fingers still as my heart trips over. Grinning, I climb over his legs, bend over him and kiss him.
He gasps in my mouth, and I grab his wrists before he clocks me one. “Jase.” I lick at his mouth and his eyes flutter open. “Missed me?”
It must’ve been a good dream. His cock is already fully hard against mine, and when he moans and lifts his hips, I grind my hard-on on his deliberately, just to make him jerk and gasp.
He tastes of chocolate, and I spot a wrapper on the table. “I didn’t know I had chocolate at home.” I stroke his jaw, his stubble scraping my palm.
His gaze shifts away from mine. “I had it with me.”
“But there’s lots of food in the fridge.” I frown. “Jase. You ate nothing else all day?”
