Page 3 of Blue

Aunt Elaine pulled back and held Blue at arm’s length. “I said there were more fish in the sea. I didn’t just mean men. There’s a tattoo shop three stores away.”

Blue ran the back of her hand under her nose as she sniffled. “I don’t even know them. What if they aren’t any good?”

Mooky was well-known for his work. He bordered on legend status. There was no way anyone would compare to him—or maybe that was her heart talking.

“I’ll get a tattoo.” Her aunt practically beamed.

CHAPTER 2

Charles “Mooky” Retz

One shot turned into two shots turned into three. Mooky felt no pain. Tequila always did its job. And whatever the clear booze in the label-less bottle was, it was far more efficient. While it didn’t erase the memory of her tearstained face when he closed his eyes…

That hurts too.

It numbed the ache in his chest. He didn’t feel like his normal self, but he could, at the very least, function. Somewhat. He doubted he’d be able to walk a straight line, but he wasn’t falling over sloppy yet.

He had to do his best to keep some of his wits about him. He’d left Ohio for Odin’s Fury club business. They’d been sent on a run to deliver guns to a faction of the Flores family in South Carolina.

At first, he’d appreciated the break. With the open road and his bike, he’d used the time to sort out his mind. He needed a plan to fix what he’d broken. Too many days had passed. The time had come to go home.

Mooky had shit he needed and wanted to handle. Unfortunately, his Flores family host, Emiliano, wasn’t too keen on him leaving early. Emiliano wasn’t interested in the prospects Mooky had brought with him. No, he needed to celebrate the delivery with a patch, and that was Mooky.

Taking a sip, he did his best to drink enough to satisfy his host but not get smashed lest he offend. These Columbians were notoriously unstable. They dipped into their own product as much as Mooky’s former brothers had. He shouldn’t get on their bad side.

His club wanted their business. Odin’s Fury made a deal, and Mooky had to honor it. So, that meant he had to endure this little party no matter how much he’d rather go back home. So, he sat there in the plush sofa and drank whatever firewater they gave him.

“You don’t look like you’re having any fun.” Disappointment flashed across his companion’s features.

Understatement. Mooky lifted his shoulder in response.

Emiliano whistled and gestured for someone behind Mooky.

This was about to go south. Mooky could feel it in his bones. His pulse quickened, and he itched for the sensation of his bike between his legs. He wanted to twist the throttle and get the fuck home. He’d been gone far too long.

Turning, he spotted a tall, curvy woman with sleek dark hair. She didn’t compare to Blue. No one could.

“Have you met Camila?” Emiliano asked in his thick accent as he crossed his legs in the armchair.

She was no Blue. Blue and her bountiful curves, her thick thighs, and her delicious ass.

“Can’t say that I have,” Mooky said.

His chest ached, and his cock perked at the thought of his ol’ lady. She was too far away.

That hurts too.

Jesus, he had to get that image out of his head. He needed to replace the memory of their last few moments together with a better one.

Camila’s hips swayed to the Latin music as she walked. Her curvy figure and generous breasts were on display beneath the strips of fabric she wore. How little there was covering her body. He couldn’t call it clothing. A small triangle covered her pussy from view beneath a neon pink fishnet skirt. The lower-portion of her outfit seemed more fashion than function. A tight-as-fuck tank top spread across her chest but left the bottom half of her tits exposed. The tall platform heels on her feet made her legs that much longer.

How the hell did she walk in those things? Slow, small, deliberate steps, apparently.

Blue had shoes like that. He’d have to ask her to model them one day.

Camila’s perfectly tanned skin glistened despite the low lighting of the room as she strolled over from a small bar in the corner. In her perfectly manicured hands tipped with long acrylic nails, she extended two crystal glasses.

“Princesa, conoce a mi amigo, Mooky,” the shooter said, turning his focus away from the alluring woman and opening the bottle. “Muéstrale un buen momento.”

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