Page 5 of Vetting the Biker

“I may have a few connections with the retired K9 handlers. What were you thinking, a German Shepherd or Malinois?”

I know what I want.

“I’m leaning more toward a pit bull. I’ve been reading up on them and they’re what I would want.” Battle Axe picks up his phone to do some texting while I wait around for any more questions or concerns he has for me.

“I will have to see if they have any retired pit bulls, but if they don’t, I have a friend at a rescue which deals with pit bulls exclusively.”

“A rescue might be better, do you think?” I’m a big fan of rescues rather than buying one from a breeder or a puppy mill, because they just use the dogs as breeders.

“It’s always your choice, Mouth. I know a great dog trainer to help, and they will help keep Mallory protected at all costs as well. I’ll make some calls.”

“Thanks, brother.” There’s some commotion outside the room and I know the guys are coming in for the church meeting about the recent case. We usually meet twice a month unless we’re working on a protection case.

Jenna

Allison and I went out to dinner after Robert left. He has a way of scaring me, and he puts me on edge.

“Are you okay?” Allison asks as we sit in her car in my driveway. I stare out into the darkness.

“No. I wish he would leave me alone. Why does he have to do this shit in front of Wesley? Why can’t he see it’s hurting him? Why can’t he put his son first?”

“Because he can’t see anyone but himself. He’s a narcissist. He gets off on hurting you and that means hurting Wesley. You put your son first before anything and everything. I’m not saying it’s wrong, but Robert knows Wesley is your weakness, so he’s going to use it against you.”

“I often ask myself why I wasn’t good enough for Robert or what could I have done differently to make him not hate me.” I sigh, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“This isn’t about you, Jenna. I love you, and you’re one of the strongest women I know. I’ve been here with you through everything, and you’ve done everything right. Robert is the one who is in the wrong. He couldn’t let you have a career where you made more money than him. He couldn’t stand his parents loved you as much, or even more than him. He hated how you put Wesley first, especially as a baby. Robert needed you to put him above everyone. If he could’ve, he probably would’ve kept you home, barefoot and pregnant, or at least home with no friends, family, or even children who would make you lose focus on him.”

“I know you’re probably right. I spent so many nights thinking about what I did wrong because I wanted Wesley to have a two-parent household.”

“Well, get out of your head. You deserve a partner, not a soul sucking leech.”

I laugh at her description. I hug her before heading into the house.

Now I’m home alone, curled up in my bed with puppies and cats. It gets lonely when Wesley isn’t here.

I pick up my cell phone and‌ checked my apps. I have some dating ones on there, but they’re not activated. My best friends often push me to date, and part of me wants to. I miss dating, getting all dolled up for someone, the text messages in the morning and before I go to bed at night. I toss the phone onto the nightstand and lay there staring up at the ceiling. I keep thinking maybe if I had an itch scratcher or, as the kids call it, a sneaky link but I remember when they were just considered a booty call—fuck I feel old! It’s sad to think about the last time a man had his hands on me. It was the one-night stand after Robert and I divorced, and I was needing to replace the memories of that asshole. I was in Illinois visiting some friends and decided to see what kind of trouble I could get into. It’s hard to believe that was five years ago, but the memory helps my late-night “taking care of me” sessions.

I look in the mirror one more time and make sure the tight shirt and even tighter jeans are in place. Grabbing my purse, I place a couple of condoms in. I take one last glance of myself in the mirror, and I walk out to the car. I pull up in front of Duke’s and get out of the car. I’m on a mission. That mission is to have no strings attached, wreck my back sex-fest. Walking to the bar, I gather my nerves and throw open the large wooden red door and walk into the bar. As my eyes adjust to the dimly lit bar, I take notice of a beautiful tall blonde behind the bar.

“Welcome to Duke’s I will be with you in a second.” I smile at the bartender who greets me and scan the bar. There is a mixture of people, young and old, but then I stop when I see the most beautiful man. Sex on a stick, as the girls in my book club say, with dark brown hair, dimples, and a chiseled jawline. As I get closer to him, I catch his attention and I swear he has the greenest eyes I have ever seen. Now is not the time to lose my nerve, so my eyes go straight to the left hand to see if I can see a ring, but nothing.

“Is this seat taken?” Maybe I am more nervous than I realize.

“Yes, by you now.” He winks at me as I slide into the bar stool.

Oh, he is smooth.

“Thank you. How are you tonight?” I try to hide my nervousness, but my voice is shaky. I watch as he takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. The way his throat moves as he swallows has me wondering how he could make taking a drink so sexy. Placing his glass down, he looks me directly in the eyes.

“Are we going to make small talk, or do you want to get out of here?” It should shock me at his boldness, but I think I just came over it instead.

“What do you have in mind?” I ask as I lightly drag my finger over his hand.

“The moment you walked in I could tell you are a woman who needs reminding how fucking sexy she truly is.” Then, as if on autopilot, we leave the bar.

Damn, thinking about that night and how he fucked me six ways from Sunday brings my body to life. I break out my favorite toy to take care of this excitement in my body, remembering his hands on me and his hard cock inside me pounding away. My boyfriend on batteries, or BOB, has me coming and releasing some pent-up frustration. I flop back on the bed after cleaning myself and BOB up. I still don’t feel satisfied. I check the time on my phone and see it’s about eleven at night. I decide to hit the all-night diner, Hot Meals. After the divorce, I go on dates with myself. I found Jenna Thompson again, because for ten years I was Jenna Johnson. I told myself after the divorce I wouldn’t lose myself again. The next man in my life would love Jenna Thompson for who she was and not what she lacked.

Chase

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