Page 5 of Dodge

“Oh!Oh, oh, oh, yes! Oh yes! Give it to me, baby! Oh yes!”

Seriously?I rolled my eyes hard enough to hurt. “He’s not all that, girlfriend. Better get yours first, ’cause I can guarantee he’s a one-and-done kinda man. He’ll take all the blow jobs you want to give, but you’ll be waiting a long time for him to go down on you.”

Chase stopped his frantic thrusting and jerked at the comforter to cover his ass. “Goddammit, Fauna!”

“Oh my gawd! She was watchin’ us!”

The shouts and squeals of outrage were music to my ears, and I laughed, twiddling my fingers in a wave as I left the scrambling couple. I grabbed my half-charged phone and charger on the way out. Chase called something down the stairs, but I didn’t hear it as I marched out the door.

A minute later, I climbed in my car and drove away. Numbness settled in, and for a few moments I was okay, but then my gut roiled, and I had to pull over at the complex entrance. I had just enough time to get the door open before my stomach emptied itself on the median grass.

Fuck me, I hate vomiting!

I waited to make sure round two wasn’t coming up, then powered up my phone.

“Hola, chica.Whatchoo doin’ calling me on a workday?” Anita’s voice was a balm to my ears.

“Bad time, girlfriend. I need a place to stay for a few days.”

“Chingada.You finally got your head outta your ass and broke up with thependejo?”

“Epically.”

Anita puffed out a sigh. “Madre de Dios, it’s about time. Connie keeps a spare key under the ugly garden statue at the house. I’ll text her now and let her know you’ll be staying with us for a while. Is it a beer night or tequila?”

The thought of more alcohol made my head throb, but the occasion still called for some liquid courage. “Beer. I had enough liquor last night to last me a long time.”

“That bad?”

“Worse, but I’ll tell you later.”

“I want all the details. I have three more jobs today, but I’ll get home as soon as I can. Adios, mi amiga.We’ll get you straight.”

She hung up, and I tapped my phone screen to close the app.

Details?

A picture of Dodge’s face appeared in my brain, and I sifted through the recollections of the previous night. Dodge’s hands on my body, his mouth on my breasts, his tongue between my legs.

Nope. I would tell Connie and Anita about the breakup and this morning, but I wanted to keep my biker as a private memory.

Wait,mybiker?

Meh, I guess I could privately call him that since I would never see him again.

CHAPTER3

The chitterof nighttime katydids filled the air as Dodge opened the door to his apartment and tossed his keys on the table. The complex was old but affordable, and he didn’t need much. The main living space had an open floor plan that included the kitchen and living and dining areas all in one big room. The small space looked bigger from the lack of furniture and no clutter, just a plain kitchen table with two chairs, a sofa, and a big flat-screen TV and entertainment center. His bedroom held a queen-size bed, a nightstand, and a chest of drawers. The few pictures and posters on the walls were of vintage motorcycles and muscle cars.

He opened the refrigerator door to look at the contents. Nope, it hadn’t changed since he left for the car show. A half loaf of bread of questionable age, an unwrapped block of dried out cheese, packets of different take-out condiments, and two six-packs of his favorite beer. He grabbed a dark brown bottle and let the door shut. The cap twisted off easily, and he snapped it between two fingers, sending it across the room into the open trash can.

Fuck, he was tired.Car shows were a fun time and generated a lot of business for the MC’s custom shop, but they took a lot out of him.

He shuffled through the delivery menus to see who was still open at this time of night. Not many other than pizza joints. He opened the app on his phone and made his order. Pizza wasn’t his first choice, but it was cheap, filling, and available.

His mouth opened in a giant cow yawn as he settled on the sofa and clicked on the TV. Shit, only twenty-eight years old and he was ready to call it a night. He used to go hard until the early morning hours and then still work a full day. Not so much now.

While he waited for his food, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the pictures of the cars at the show. Two of his custom paint jobs had placed in the competition, and he’d found some parts he needed for a ’67 Mustang he had in the shop. He’d also picked up a ’59 Karmen Ghia that someone abandoned in a field to rot. The top had been left open and the interior was ruined, but all the parts were there, and the engine was original. He’d bought it for a song and would spend at least a year on its restoration. In the end, he would make a sweet profit on the classic car.

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