Page 35 of Ox

Oh, I was definitely going to enjoy this cabin. I was going to enjoy every room of it. First, with Kayla beneath me, then on top of me, and finally on her hands and knees as she begged for more of whatever I was giving her.

“Did you compile that file on Ghost yet?” I asked, changing the subject so that my cock would settle down and I wouldn’t have to suffer with blue balls through dinner.

“Yeah, it’s almost done. I’ll send you over what I have. It’s a fucking trip,” Pipe warned. “If I didn’t know what a sadistic asshole Ghost was, I’d actually feel sorry for the son of a bitch.”

That surprised me. “How so?”

“His mother was an addict who ignored him. He never even knew his father. The state sent him to a boy’s home at seven when his mother OD’d at the age of twenty-five. Two years later, it was discovered that most of the children were being physicallyand sexually abused there and the place was permanently shut down. From then on out, Ghost, AKA Marshall Casey, was shuffled around from foster home to foster home. He never stayed long in one place. His last placement was at the age of fourteen and lasted for eight months. When his foster mother’s cats both went missing, she was convinced he’d done something to them and no longer felt safe under the same roof with him.”

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding about a messed up childhood,” I said, disgusted that a kid should be so abused, but unwilling to feel sorry for a man who chose to then go on to hurt and abuse so many others.

“It gets worse. Only two months after he left that home, the place burned down to the ground. His foster mother inside of it. The fire report was inconclusive, but arson was heavily suspected.”

“I’m guessing that wasn’t a coincidence.”

“Yeah, especially since Ghost was known for starting fires in his other placements,” Pipe revealed. “It seems like after that, he crossed the border and lived in Mexico for a few years. He doesn’t pop up back into the system until he turned twenty-one.”

The man was well and truly fucked in the head. After hearing all of this information, I was beginning to think it was a mercy to put the asshole down and out of his misery.

“Send me the file,” I instructed my Brother, wanting to read this info for myself whenever I had some free time.

Pipe tapped a few keys then said, “Already sent. Check your inbox when you get a chance.”

Before I hung up, I asked, half serious, half not, “So, just to be clear, Pipe, you don’t have any camerasinsidethis house? Correct?”

Pipe paused and was quiet for a few seconds. “Stay out of the living room and outdoor spaces and you should be fine.” Before adding, “Enjoy your night.”

Kayla

I poppedthe pie into the oven and set my phone alarm for thirty-five minutes. Hungry, because I hadn’t eaten much at lunch, my mouth watered at the thought of the warm, creamy peanut butter cookie-pie that would be ready shortly.

Glancing out the window, I saw that Ox had ended his phone call, so I decided to go outside and join him on the deck as I waited for my pie to finish baking.

Just as I started for the door, Ox unexpectedly stood and came inside. “You want a drink? My buddy has a fairly well-stocked liquor cabinet.”

“Does he have any wine?” I asked, following him to the living room where the temperature controlled cabinet was housed.

“Yeah. What are you in the mood for?” Ox checked.

I wanted to say “him”, but I figured that might be a tad too aggressive a response for such a chill evening, so instead I said, “Red wine. I’ll take whatever there is, but prefer pinot noir if it’s there.”

Ox opened the cabinet and rooted around inside before unearthing a dark, expensive looking bottle. “You’ll like this one. We had it the last time Pipe and I came up here.”

I smiled, loving the cozy image of two tough bikers sipping wine and discussing philosophy together into the wee hours of the night. “I have a hard time picturing you and your biker buddies drinking wine together.”

Ox returned my smile as he carried the bottle over to the kitchen and rummaged through one of the drawers to find themeans to uncork it. “What? Bikers can’t enjoy wine like the rest of civilized society?”

I laughed, loving this teasing side of him. “Of course they can. I’m just saying, when I think about a bunch of tough, tattooed bikers drinking together, I picture whiskey, bourbon, and vodka. You know, the hard stuff. Not expensive French vintages.”

Retrieving two glasses from the proper cupboard, Ox shook his head. “We’re a misunderstood people.”

“I’m starting to get that,” I teased back, accepting my wine and taking a small sip. It was heavenly, and my eyes rounded with approval. “This is delicious! And it’ll pair great with the steaks,” I predicted.

Grabbing the plate of steaks, Ox nodded his agreement. “I’m going to start cooking these. I’m starving.”

I didn’t doubt it. The giant was always ravenous. “Sounds good. I like mine medium rare.”

Ox was only in a long sleeve thermal, but the cold didn’t seem to bother him any. Putting on my coat to follow the biker outside, I sat down at the table with my glass of wine and watched as he lifted the hood of the grill and began to prepare the meat. The night was chilly but clear, and I felt hypnotized by the woods, which were beginning to come alive with the mysterious noises of the night and the wildlife hidden within it.

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