Page 85 of Biker's Prisoner: Property of Bucky

I hold her legs back and push Zayna into the pillow, groaning as I empty every last drop of my cum inside her. When I can finally breathe, I pull out of her and drag her body against mine so she doesn’t evendareleave our bed. I don’t think it crossed her mind. Zayna presses her ass against me. I love how dirty and wet we both are. Her hair smells incredible too.

“I love you, crazy Ruger,” she whispers.

“I love you, Teacher Zayna,” I whisper back. “And I’ll do anything you want forever. I swear it.”

“Be a good father. Be a good man. That’s all I want.”

She waitsfor a beat and then adds, “And never leave me like that again.”

“I won’t,” I whisper. “I swear, baby.”

I pressmy nose into her neck and hold Zayna tight. I don’t want to fall asleep. I want to hold her here and dream about our future. And our baby. My hand moves to her stomach and she presses her hand over mine.

“I know,” she whispers. “I want it too. I really do.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Deacon “Rage” Hollingsworth

Half an hour until I close tonight and Ethan Shaw’s stupid ass still isn’t down here. Where the fuck is he?He said this was important.I don’t have to question what the fuck is wrong with him. I know what’s wrong with him. We all have our vices. Ethan should be more private about his weaknesses. It’s not healthy to have all your business out there. That degenerate probably stopped somewhere to buy scratch cards and is losing his fucking head over the Chiefs game right now.

I have an important appointment when I’m done here. My weekly. I can’t miss it, especially not after spending two weeks on the road. I’m pent up. I open the text message chat I have with Ethan. No response to my last seven text messages. The last time he replied to me at all was for completely selfish reasons.

He always texts me his “winning parlay suggestions” and right now that suggestion is going down the toilet. The Bills are down by 7 – and they don’t look like they’re going to climb back up considering half their roster has some type of injury. That one Tyler Bass kick had everybody too damn cocky. Ethan is a fucking idiot. There’s a reason that the betting app tells you that you get to win a million dollars if that parlay hits.

It’s not gonna fucking happen.

He had better gethis ass over here soon. I don’t want Oske to charge me for lateness or some other bullshit fee. She had major problems over how I handled the last one, like I didn’t make myself entirely clear exactly what I needed. The liquor I had tonight already passed through me. I need something intense – an upper after another boring ass night running this barely concealed casino front.

I hear arguing outside my office door, so I slam the football highlights on my laptop shut and open the door to shut them up and hopefully, find Ethan hunched over at the bar. That dumbass and his brother Owen start bar fights pretty much everywhere they go.

No Ethan, it’s just Seneca and Moses having the same stupid ass arguments they keep having ever since Oske got her the job. She insists I “owe her” and that she can’t have Seneca working for her up at the Fire Spot because of the type of clientele.

Once he sniffs me out, Moses launches straight into his complaints about Seneca.“Boss, she’s doing Zyns on the job. Women don’t need to be doing that shit. It disgusts the customers.”

Moses is a traditional man. Possibly some type of Hispanic, but I don’t give a shit about color as long as you don’t steal and you don’t overdose in the saloon bathroom. Seneca is the opposite of traditional – and she has the unhinged feral attitude all the Indian girls around here have. She might be a mix of Indian and something else, but she has those cheekbones and those eyes…

“It’s my body, my choice,” Seneca snaps at him, glaring like she wants to stick a needle in his voodoo doll. People who work nightshift are all fucking crazy. If they don’t start off crazy, not seeing the sun gets them there pretty quickly. Moses puffs out his chest. He’s one of those bouncers that does a great job because he’s five-foot-five and desperate to prove himself. Dadhad him patched-in years ago, but he didn't pay club dues, so Harlan Shaw kicked him out. He might be an alcoholic, but he’s a loyal one – and that matters.

“It’s not your body,” Moses says. “It’s the body of whoever pays for it.”

Seneca gives me a pleading expression like she expects me to intervene. These people are in their thirties. I’m pretty sure they both have kids, although I’m not sure how often either of them see their kids considering the job here. Once she realizes that I won’t chime in to defend her, Seneca yells at Moses, “I’m not a slut!”

“You’re a hooker.”

Seneca’s face changes color and her body language changes like she’s actually considering whooping this man’s ass. Definitely time for me to intervene.

“Hey. Enough,” I chime in, not bothering to conceal my exasperation. “Shut down the slot machines. Get the grandmas out of here. Ethan Shaw is coming tonight.”

“We can’t actually shut down the slot machines,” Seneca says sassily. “Vickie says you’re causing problems with the internal… thingy.”

Sometimes I wish I had Vickie here instead of the ditzy chicks that Oske doesn’t have the patience to employ at Indian establishments. Then again, I sometimes get suspicious that Seneca plays dumb and she’s more of a spy for Oske. Unlike Moses, I have no desire to stand here arguing with her.

“Whatever. I don’t care what you do. Get those women out of here before Ethan comes and I lose him for the night because of a near-miss on those machines.”

“I need your help,” She says to Moses imperiously. “I’ll be the brains, you can be the muscles or whatever.”

I don’t want to risk leaving them alone. They’re like grown cats fighting in a fucking alley, especially this late into the night.Seneca and Moses walk away, yapping at each other as they head to the employee breakroom. I walk around the bar and like a bloodhound for trouble, Ethan Shaw walks through the saloon style doors to our establishment.

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