Page 4 of Sparrow

Either way, every part of Sparrow hurt. Her feet ached, screaming to be released from the leather prison she called shoes. However, she knew better than to let them go too early, they’d be a swollen mess. She’d like to soak them a bit and put them up before she went to bed. Not to mention putting a warm compress across her shoulders. Her neck had an awful crick in it.

If her damn boss would bother to show the hell up to work, she wouldn’t have to work like this. She wouldn’t have to run herself ragged being a waitress and a bartender if he bothered to schedule people properly or even care when people missed shifts. But, no. He was too busy with club business.

Club business. Club business. Sparrow wanted to shove club business up his asshole sideways. She’d heard about club business her entire life—first from her father, until said business took his life. Then from the men who supposedly stepped up in his stead to help raise her and now she heard it from her boyfriend on a near hourly basis. At least if felt that way.

The way she saw it, all club business seemed to do was fuck shit up. It took her dad. It ruined her boyfriend. It made her already dick head of a boss into a bigger dingus. Yeah—she’d had it up to her damn eyeballs with club business.

Pulling her sedan into her assigned parking spot in the apartment building lot, she peered at the bikes crammed into the other space. Groaning, she rolled her eyes. What the fuck were they doing there? She didn’t want to have to deal with a party. Her feet were sore, her body ached. She just wanted to go to bed.

The life of a biker bitch seemed glamourous in theory—the never ending party, right? Yeah, except no one ever mentions bills still have to be paid. Someone still has to go to fucking work. Especially, when the man isn’t high on the food chain within the club. This means he isn’t exactly flush with cash. He’s a damn grunt—doing fucking shit work and making fuck-all pay. He takes all the risks and sometimes gets locked the fuck up. Then whatever little bit of savings they have gets spent bailing his stupid ass out of jail.

She felt locked in a never-ending cycle.

So, yeah—whoo-hoo party time. She was over it—so fucking over it.

Fuck the fucking shit. She did not want to fucking party. She wanted to go the fuck to bed.

The heavy bass of the music inside the apartment thumped through the wall and pounded against her chest. If her entire building weren’t terrified of Pipes and the cut he wore, they’d probably have called the police. People don’t normally tolerate music so loud it can be felt, not just heard. Perhaps, that was a silver lining. She wouldn’t have to deal with the cops tonight.

Wouldn’t that be a blessing?

Testing the knob, Sparrow slumped her shoulders forward. Of course it was open. Why would he lock the door? It wasn’t like they lived in a shitty neighborhood or anything.

Opening the door, she braced herself for what she might find inside. It could be anything from men taking bets on two women naked lube wrestling to coked out idiots playing video games. She’d walked in on both and everything in between.

Nearly colliding with a guy wearing a suit—that she wasn’t prepared for. Stopping short of her nose flattening against the chest of a tall stocky man wearing a “don’t fuck with me” expression, she closed the door behind her and pressed her back against it. “Hi,” she greeted skeptically. “Pipes home?” she asked, pointing behind the wall of pissed off man.

This could be bad—like super big time bad. She didn’t know this dick weasel from a hole in the wall. Which meant Pipes was into some shit.

“Who’s asking?” the man asked in a thick Columbian accent.

Quick decision time. How did she answer this? Holding up her key, she jingled the ring and its accessories. “I live here, just want to know if he’s home. Is he okay?” She peered around him, but didn’t dare to try to step past him.

He grinned and stepped aside.

Wary, she eyed him for a moment. This didn’t seem right at all. Something about this smelled funky as shit, but she wasn’t exactly in the best position here. So, she did her best to walk past him and keep as much distance between them as she could—hard to do in their small entryway.

“Pipes?” she called out into their apartment.

Four steps in, her mouth fell open.

She’d seen it plenty of times on TV and in movies. The white bricks wrapped in plastic and taped up. She’d seen the scales and the briefcases of money. It all seemed so cliché in the movies.

On her kitchen table, the only thing missing was the briefcase. Also, the neatly wrapped bills. The money was there. It wasn’t nearly as impressively stacked or anything. Just sloppy bills rubber banded together. They weren’t crisp clean bills fresh from the bank or anything.

Slack jawed, she felt like she’d stumbled onto a set for some production. This couldn’t be real life. There was no way Tut, Jackal, and Pipes were doing deals with some sleek man in a suit who had a goon at her damn door. There was no fucking way in hell.

“Well, hello,” the man in the suit purred as he spoke in a similar accent as the man at the door. His warm chocolate colored eyes grazed over her with appreciation.“Eres hermosa con esas pecas.”His head canted to the side as his expression took on a more scrutinizing twist.

“What isshedoing here?” Tut demanded.

“This is supposed to be hush hush,” Jackal commented.

“She won’t say nothing,” Pipes assured before turning his eye toward Sparrow. “Why you home so early?”

Balking at the pissed off look in his eyes, she planted her hands on her hips and glared at him, the strange man eye fucking her forgotten. “It’s nearly three o’clock in the goddamn morning. I think I’m allowed to come the fuck home now.”

Snickering, the man in the suit covered his smile as she sneered at him, which only made his shoulders jiggle more as his stifled laughter continued. “You remind me,” he said as he pointed a finger at her, waving it. “I do business with these men.” He gestured toward the bikers now bickering amongst themselves in muffled voices. “For many years. They had a man who had fire like you.” He grinned, lifting his chin.

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