Page 8 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

We’re only a few feet away when I stop. “Shit,” I hiss, “I forgot my wristlet. Just a sec.” I turn to double back to my SUV when I freeze.

Down the block, perched up against a mean-looking Harley, is Maverick Bishop. And, almost as though it’s his new favorite hobby, he’s once again staring at me.

CHAPTER 5

MAV

I’m leaning up against my bike sipping a coffee waiting for Bent and Finn to hurry the fuck up. It’s 11 AM on a Sunday, and I’m not trying to be in this godforsaken city on what’s supposed to be my only relaxing day of the week any longer than I have to be.

It’s not particularly early, but I’m a night owl so anything before noon may as well be 8 AM to me. We’re in the city for a business meeting. Something Bent’s been pitching to me for a while and honestly, while I’m skeptical, it’s not a bad idea. Our potential investors are obviously interested as well, given they’re willing to come in on a Sunday to accommodate my schedule.

Nightclubs.

While our primary source of income is currently drugs and guns, that’s not the endgame for us. We deal in undesirables out of need, not want. My goal has always been to take us legit. I’ve just been looking for the right business venture to do it, and Bentley seems to think this could be it. I’m gonna need some more convincing. Hospitality businesses can be lucrative, but they’re also unstable and inconsistent in terms of revenue. However, I’m willing to take the meeting. Now, if only these two fuckwads would show up so we can get a move on.

I look down to take another sip of my coffee when I hear the beat of intense bass being emitted from an impressive sound system.

Between Angels and Insects by Papa Roach (Spotify)

Between Angels and Insects by Papa Roach (Apple Music)

Normally, I’d find the level at which they’re bumping their music downright obnoxious, but it’s “Between Angels and Insects” by Papa Roach and, let’s be real, that song fucking slaps. It’s a straight-up classic.

I look up at the pearl-white Range Rover stopped at the red light in front of me and snort when I see two chicks inside going buck wild rocking out. I can’t help but smirk as they sway and hop around in the front seat, belting out all the lyrics to the song I know so well. The music dies out, just before “Last Resort” kicks in, and the one in the driver’s seat just loses it. She screams out the opening lines and I’m not gonna lie, my dick twitches at how fucking hot it is.

I slip my aviators slightly down the bridge of my nose so I can peer over the frames, allowing me an unobstructed view of the entertainment unfolding in front of me. The blonde bombshell in the driver’s seat whips her head in my direction and the coffee almost slips from my hands.

The light changes and they speed off. I’m just about to hop on my bike and chase her like a fucking psycho, but then fate intervenes, and they pull off down the block where they park before hopping out of the car.

Jesus Christ, she’s even more stunning in the daylight. Her long legs travel up and disappear under the hem of her oversized black sweatshirt. I can clearly make out Biggie’s face on the front. For a second, I think she doesn’t have any pants on, but when she twists to glance back at her SUV, the side of her sweatshirt rides up and I catch a glimpse of her faded blue cutoffs. From back here, her white high tops shine bright in the sun, contrasting against her tan skin.

Fucking smokeshow, all without looking like she’s exerted an ounce of effort. She must have forgotten something in the car because she’s just about to head back when she freezes, her eyes locking in on me.

I realize I probably look like a deranged stalker. Bumping into her like this less than twelve hours after I last saw her hardly seems coincidental, but I couldn’t care less. At this point, she should admire the self-restraint I’m demonstrating by not walking over and pissing on her to mark my territory.

I lost my virginity at thirteen in the middle school bathroom. In the eight years since then, I’ve covered a lot of ground. My body count could probably give Hugh Hefner a run for his money. But in all those years, in all the pussy I’ve drowned in, I have never wanted to fuck anything as bad as I want to bury myself in her. She’s like a shiny new toy being dangled in front of me, the universe taunting me by keeping her just out of reach.

Kid did that to me in school once back in the day. Waved a toy I wanted in my face and then pulled it away every time I reached for it. I fucking stabbed him in the leg with a pencil, and then I took what I wanted anyway. Fair warning, my approach hasn’t changed much in the last fifteen years. If it ain’t broke, right?

She stands rooted in place, her gaze still firmly situated on me. I give her a nod, lifting my chin to her in acknowledgment. She raises her hand and for a second I think she’s actually going to wave. Then, at the last moment, she extends her middle finger to flip me off. My face splits into the widest menacing smile I think I’ve ever managed. She hurries back to the Rover, reaching in to grab her wallet before scurrying off down a side street with her friend.

Game on, princess. Game fucking on.

CHAPTER 6

JONSIE

“You wanna explain what that shit’s about?” Daphne loops her arm through mine as we walk toward the restaurant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I look off to the side.

“Seriously?” She arches her brow. “You flip off Maverick Bishop in broad daylight and I’m just supposed to act like that’s normal behavior?”

“We met last night at Lounge.” I shrug. “He’s a cocky piece of shit.”

“Whoa. Back up, bitch.” Her hand flies up, halting the conversation. “What were you doing at Lounge last night and where was my invitation?”

I smirk at her, shaking my head. “Nicky made me go last-minute. Trust me, you didn’t miss anything.”

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