MUERTO: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 2) Page 10

  Okay, this guy is really strange. Then a thought hit her and a shiver of ice stabbed her gut. What if he put the flowers on my porch? I wouldn’t put it past him. I need to talk to Muerto about him.

  “So, what color blue are they?”

  “Uh… oh… turquoise. Did you put some roses on my porch this morning?” Her gaze fixed on him.

  Averting his eyes, he shook his head, his hands going in and out of his pockets. “No, but I saw them when I went for my walk.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t put them there?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “What time did you go for your walk?”

  “The time I always do—seven o’clock.”

  Not convinced, she turned away. “I don’t mean to be rude, Walter, but I’m not up for talking right now. I usually like to zone out when I water and garden. It’s my quiet time, you know?”

  “So you don’t want to talk to me?” A hard edge crept into his voice.

  She rolled her shoulders; she hadn’t realized how tense she was since he’d come over. “That isn’t what I said. I said I want some quiet time, so for now I’d rather not talk.”

  He clucked his tongue and stepped forward so he was in her line of vision. “Do you like dancing?”

  Sighing, she nodded. “Do you?” I couldn’t care less if he does or doesn’t. I just wish he’d go away and leave me the hell alone.

  “The way people hold each other and grind into each other is just nasty. And most of the time they’re strangers. The way I see it is that it’s just an excuse to grope each other.”

  What a fuckin’ nut. “Everyone is free to think what they want. Dancing has always involved touching, even as far back as the ancient civilizations.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s not dirty. No one cares about morality. Look how God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah and how the Roman Empire crumbled because of immorality. The world is going to find out that enough is enough.”

  Whoa. Just agree with him. Maybe he’ll go away. “I think you have a point there.” She went over and turned off the hose.

  Watching her intently, he licked his lips. “I bet you’re real popular with men. I also bet that you love them clamoring after you.”

  She laughed tightly. “I really don’t. What about you? Do you have a special woman?”

  An intense darkness covered his face and he glowered. “I don’t trust any woman except my mother.” His gaze lingered on her mouth.

  When she bent down to pick up her weeder, the hairs on the back of her neck rose as she sensed his stare on her. “I have to finish a painting I’ve been working on. It was good chatting with you.” Not!

  “But you’re not finished.” He looked at the weeds.

  “I’ll do it later. I didn’t think it’d be this hot out. The cloud covering fooled me.” The man creeped her out; she had to get away from him. She’d finish gardening when he was holed up watching TV like he did every night. On the evenings when she’d take a walk, she’d see the flickering of the screen from his open window. He was always in the dark, and if she cocked her head a certain way, she could see his face illuminated by the glow of the TV. It looked like a ghastly mask, and sometimes the image of it invaded her dreams.

  “I really do have to start painting. See you.” Rushing past him, she heard his noisy breaths. Closing the door behind her, she locked it and leaned against it. “We got one fuckin’ nutcase for a neighbor,” she said to Sooty. Shaking her head, she went to the back porch and put away her tools, grabbed a large bottle of water from the fridge, and went over to her canvas. She’d placed her easel in the living room to catch the early afternoon light.

  A few hours later, a knock interrupted her flow. Rolling her shoulders backward and forward several times to get the kinks out, she laid down her brush and went over to the door. Looking through the peephole, she gasped as her heartbeat raced. Slowly, with trembling hands, she opened the door.

  With wide and glowing eyes, she greeted him. “Hey.”

  Muerto grinned. “You seem surprised to see me.”

  Recovering from her initial shock and anxiety at seeing him at her door, she smiled. “Just surprised you knocked.”

  He chuckled. “I came by to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m good. That incident is behind me. I’ve been in scrapes before and I don’t let them get me down. You want a cold beer?” He nodded and she unlocked the screen door, moving aside as he entered. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She shuffled to the kitchen. I can’t believe he’s here, and that he fuckin’ knocked. Giggles burst through her lips as she grabbed a Coors and an iced tea and went back to the living room. “Here you are.” She handed him the cold can.

  He took it, popped the tab, and put the tiny piece of metal in her open and waiting hand. He laughed. “You really do use anything for your jewelry.” After taking a deep drink, he set the can down on the table. “It looks like you’re working on something.”

  “Yeah. I got accepted to show a few of my paintings at an art gallery in Denver. I’m beyond excited.” She drank a gulp of iced tea; her mouth was dry as dust. And the way his gaze penetrated her made her nervous as hell. “I took a couple of workshops with Elliot Caraway. He’s an awesome artist and paints in my medium. Anyway, he ended up liking my work and we’ve kept in touch. He referred my artwork to this gallery in Denver.” She swallowed. “They have a lot of folk and pop art. I need to finish before the end of next week.” Another large gulp. “It’s a big deal to get your work in a gallery.” Pressing her lips together, she brushed away some lint from the couch.

  “That’s cool. Am I making you nervous?”

  “No. Why?” Heat radiated from him as he moved closer to her.

  “You’re acting like it.” Again his dark gaze bored into her.

  “Just anxious excitement over finishing my painting and getting it to Denver. You want another beer?”

  “A water would be cool.”

  She leapt from the couch and dashed to the kitchen. You’re acting like an ass. Damn. Get a grip. Why’re you letting him get to you all of a sudden? It was because she was beginning to see the layers that made him who he was. Before, he was like a bad cardboard cutout, but she was beginning to see past his persona, and liking it. It scared the hell out of her.

  When she came back into the living room, he was standing in front of her painting, his face expressionless. “Do you like it?” she asked, scrutinizing what she’d created for the past several hours: bold colors depicting a nude woman kneeling on red sand with bones scattered around her. The woman had long black hair that covered her nakedness except for her perky breasts. She stared ahead as if she were looking at the person regarding the painting. A colorful umbrella in her hands shielded the bright yellow sun. The heads of three men hung from the handle of her parasol, streaks of red dripping onto the sand.

  “It’s interesting. Is it the desert?” Muerto asked as he cocked his head to the side.

  Handing him the water bottle, she picked up a wet brush and shaped its tip with her fingers. “Yeah. The woman lives in the desert of blood, devouring men as they come upon her. Have you ever heard of Devoradora—the Mexican folklore?”

  Slowly he nodded, a lazy smile spreading over his lips. “She seduces and deceives with her beauty, then kills every man she meets.”

  “Or castrates them.” Her gray gaze held his.

  He took a swig of water and chuckled. “Is that what you’re aiming for, sweetheart? My balls?”

  With her gaze still locked on his, she placed her brush in a tattered wooden box. “Maybe.” She ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip and his eyes followed the movement.

  In two large steps he was beside her, one arm wrapped around her small waist and the other tangled in her hair. He yanked her head back and stared deeply into her eyes. “I’m totally up for the challenge.” He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her firmly.

  Heat flooded her, and she twisted away. “Don’t do that.”


  Letting her go, he stepped backward. “I’m planning to do a lot more than that.” He winked at her, his crooked smirk switching to a small smile. “Glad you’re good. Gotta run.” He swaggered out the door.

  As she watched him get on his Harley, she brought her fingers to her mouth, her lips still warm from his kiss. Her calm was shattered; it seemed that it was beginning to happen more often and more completely each time she was around him. She knew the signs: dry mouth, giggling, butterflies in the stomach, always thinking about him. She was falling for him and she didn’t want to. It was like she was on a runaway freight train barreling down a hill—unstoppable until it finally crashed.

  Cringing, she knew the ride would be fast, hard, and exciting, thus making the inevitable crash that much worse. And she didn’t know how the hell to stop it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Muerto stood under the awning on the back porch waiting for Deanna to pick up. He’d been meaning to talk to her about her attitude with Raven, but club business, his mother’s birthday party, and running the pool hall had eaten away at his time. The constant desire he felt for his tenant hadn’t helped. She was always on his mind, driving him crazy and making him shake his head in bewilderment. There was something about her that captivated him and made her irresistible. Raven fascinated and intrigued him, and he wanted to get to know her better.

  “Muerto, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?” Deanna’s cheery voice pissed him off.

  “What do you have against Raven?”

  “Who?”

  “The tenant at the duplex. She said that she told you about the garage door not working a while back and you didn’t do shit about it. Gave her some attitude. What the fuck, Deanna? Do you treat all my tenants like that? Dealing with problems at the rentals is supposed to be your job.”

  “She’s lying. She’s trying to turn you against me. Has anyone else complained?”

  Muerto ran his hand through his damp hair. Fuck, it’s hot today. “No.”

  “Then why would I just pick on her?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I can’t see Raven making this up. She’s not the type to do shit like that.”

  “You know her that well? She’s got the hots for you. I saw it that night at the pool hall. She knows you and I get along real well. She probably found out we used to date and is jealous of our relationship.”

  Muerto scrunched his face. “I don’t think so. Look, she obviously rubs you the wrong way. It happens. Hell, most people rub me the wrong way. I’ll tell her to call Jay if she can’t get a hold of me. That should solve any future problems.”

  “You’ve never given out your number to a tenant before. We’ve handled all the problems. Why would you give her your number?”

  “’Cause I’m the owner and can do what the fuck I want. If you have to talk to her for any reason, drop the damn attitude and be civil. Let’s not make our working relationship go sour.”

  “Is that all we have, a ‘working relationship’?”

  “Yeah. You need to move on, Deanna.”

  A dry cackle pricked his ears. “You certainly have. You didn’t even miss a fucking beat, did you?”

  A deep sigh. “Just do your job. I gotta go.” He set his phone on the patio table and took out a joint, lit it, and inhaled deeply. Even though he liked the drama that ensued with citizens when he switched girls, it sometimes got to be too much. He’d made a big mistake by going out with someone who worked for him. He swore he’d never mix business and pleasure again. His short-lived affair with Deanna wasn’t worth the grief she kept giving him about it. Most of his brothers wouldn’t dream of getting involved with a citizen even for a one-night stand because the women just didn’t get it. They weren’t like the club girls or hang-arounds who were down for one night and nothing more. Citizens always wanted to make a couple of fuck sessions into a relationship with love and commitment.

  So why the hell am I even entertaining wanting to get to know Raven better? Somehow, she’d pulled him in further than any other woman ever had. And if truth be told, he really didn’t know what the hell he wanted from her. He just knew that he wanted her.

  “You got another one of those?” Army asked as he came up to the porch. “What the hell you doing outside in this damn heat?”

  Handing him a joint, Muerto pushed away from the wall. “I was using the phone. Let’s go inside. It must be over a hundred right now.”

  The two men entered the cool clubhouse and went over to the bar to join Skull, Diablo, Goldie, Paco, and Chains. Patches had a Dos Equis on the bar when Muerto came up and a shot of Jack for Army. Neither man acknowledged the prospect as they wrapped their fingers around their drinks. Prospects did the grunt work for the club without appreciation or acknowledgement unless they screwed up; then they received the wrath of a member, or the whole brotherhood if they really fucked up. All the patched members had gone through prospecting, all receiving the same treatment. Being able to don the club’s colors meant that the brother had proven himself. The Night Rebels weren’t looking for those who couldn’t hold their own with the utmost loyalty to the brotherhood.

  “How’s your woman?” Diablo asked.

  Chains choked on his beer while Goldie and Skull muttered, “What the fuck?” in unison.

  “You got a woman?” Paco said, jerking his head back in surprise.

  “No.” Muerto stared straight ahead.

  “Why’d you ask that, Diablo?” Goldie placed his drink on the counter.

  “’Cause he does,” Diablo answered.

  “I bet it’s the long-haired chick with the perfect ass. Am I right, Diablo?” Chains’s earnest look at the sergeant-at-arms made Muerto want to punch him.

  Diablo nodded, his face stoic.

  “I knew you had a boner for her.” Goldie clapped his hand on Muerto’s shoulder. “Have you fucked her yet?”

  Shrugging off his hand, anger seethed in Muerto like a vat of boiling wax. “Watch your goddamn mouth. And it’s none of you assholes’ business what the hell I do. Raven and I are just friends.”

  Everyone but Diablo guffawed. “Raven’s her name?” Chains said.

  “Oh, excuse us, dude. We didn’t realize you and Raven were just friends,” Goldie said as he calmed down from laughing.

  “With benefits,” Paco added, which started another round of hearty laughs.

  The shattering of glass against the wall tore through the conversation, laughs, and voices on the TV. All eyes fixed on Muerto, whose arm was poised to throw another bottle. Steel walked in just as it crashed against the wall. Muerto let go of the beer in his hand when the president’s gaze bored into him.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Steel asked.

  “I dunno. I was just watching TV when this beer bottle zipped over my head and hit the wall,” Brutus said as Cue Ball and Eagle nodded.

  “Muerto?” Steel started walking toward him.

  “Ask these fuckers,” he fumed.

  “What’s going on, Diablo?” Steel asked.

  The big man shrugged. “I just asked Muerto how his woman was. Maybe he didn’t like me asking.”

  Steel turned to Muerto. “You got a woman?” The brothers who’d been ribbing him burst out laughing again.

  “Fuck it!” Muerto threw his beer bottle, narrowly missing Cue Ball’s head, kicked over a chair, and marched out. Before he went through the doors, he heard Steel say, “I guess he does. I’ll be damned.”

  Dashing over to his Harley, he cursed when his phone rang. It was Laura. Fuck. I was supposed to get a place for Ma’s birthday party. He let the call go to voice mail and then tapped in his friend Raul’s number. He and Raul had been friends since high school, and he owned a hall that he rented out for weddings, quinceañeras, proms, and a bunch of other life events.

  “Hey, Muerto, what’s shaking? It’s been too long, bro.”

  “Yeah. Been busy. I need to rent your place for my mom’s birthday party. I fucked up so this is kinda last minu
te. I’m hoping you can help me or Laura’s gonna ride my ass about this for the next twenty years.”

  Raul chuckled. “When’s the party?”

  “In a couple of weeks on a Saturday night.”

  “You’re making this hard for me. I’m booked every Saturday ’til the end of September.”

  “Fuck.” Muerto leaned back on the seat of his Harley. “What the hell can I do? I gotta get something.”

  “You can’t have it in your mom’s backyard?”

  “No way. Laura’s invited a hundred or more people.”

  “That many?”

  “It’s crazy, I know. This all started out as a party with just us, a few aunts and uncles, and my mother’s closest friends. I shoulda taken over.”

  “You should’ve. You know your sister. Let me think about it. Does it have to be in Alina? I may be able to secure you a place in Firestone. It’s about a thirty-minute drive but—”

  “That won’t work. Laura would have my head. It’s gotta be in town. I guess if nothing works out, I can have it at the clubhouse.”

  Raul laughed deeply. “And how do you think Laura will feel about that?”

  “Pissed.” His phone clicked. Laura’s calling me again. Damnit! “Can you get back to me real soon?”

  “Yeah. Wait, there’s also another possibility. I can get you a tent and set it up in the back of the hall. It’s beautiful back there with a waterfall, trees, flowers, and all that.”

  “A tent? I don’t know….”

  Raul chuckled. “Not like the tents you’re thinking of. A nice one with air conditioning, lights, floor, dance floor, the whole bit. It’ll be beautiful. It’ll cost you, but you’ll have a great venue, and the kids can run around outdoors.”

  “Sounds good. I can’t visualize it, but I know you won’t let me down. How much are you gonna steal from me?”

  “You’re desperate, which is a great position for a vendor to have a buyer in, but for you I’ll give you the friendship price.”

  Muerto groaned jokingly. “I think I’m gonna wish I had the stranger price when this is all done.”