Page 126 of Average Joe

“You’re my mess.” I slid a hand under her flannel pajama pants to grip that ass I hadn’t touched in too long. “You have the power to hurt me, too, gorgeous.”

My boxers strained against the thickening erection, but Little Joe would get no relief. Marley’s body had already gone soft, dead weight. Better that way. She needed tender and slow, but after hearing about her night, I had nothing to give but fury.

* * *

Limbs heavy, head fuzzy, I kissed Ginger on the snout, gave Bruce an ear scratch, fumbled into my jeans and tee, and searched for Marley. Living room empty, I headed to the kitchen, where a pot of coffee sat in wait. The clock read 9:48 AM.

Marley made her coffee strong, as java should be, and as I savored my first sip, I glanced out the window. The mug slipped from my fingers and crashed into the empty sink, splashing scalding liquid in every direction. The burn on my neck and arms registered, but I ignored the pain and stormed outside. “What the ever-loving fuck are you doing here?”

My father stood next to his bike, arms crossed over his broad chest, a shit-eating grin parting his overgrown beard. He nodded my direction, then said to Marley, “See. Told you he wouldn’t be happy to see me.”

Marley stood, feigning casual, with her hands tucked into the back pockets of her baggy jeans. She wore a threadbare Guns N’ Roses T-shirt, half-tucked in the front, and a fake smile.

“Dad,” I mumbled, eyeing him, then the two men wearing matching cuts and standing guard at the end of the driveway. “Hey, guys.”

Arms crossed, they both nodded.

“Son.” My father had a deep, demanding voice that I’d always respected.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. Andrew Kaine didn’t do casual visits.

“Got a call from my brother.”

Larry? Interesting. “And?”

“Said you were outta line, messing with Harper.” He smirked. “Told me to get you in check.”

“You could’ve called.”

“Wanted to see my boy. That so bad?” He reached into his saddlebag, pulled out a loosely wrapped package, and shoved it at my chest.

I recognized the weight. Choked back bile but held the offering tight.

“Go home, old man. I’ve got shit handled.” I wanted those men far away from Marley.

“I’ve no doubt you’ve got things under control. I’ve got one thing to say, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Say what you need to say.”

“I’ve got your back. The club has your back. You need anything, say the word.”

“I’ve got it handled.”

Dad and I had opposing views about “handling” things, hence the personal delivery.

“You don’t wanna owe the club. I respect that.” He nodded, scratching his bearded chin. “You’ve more than paid your dues. You don’t wanna patch in, that’s your mistake to make, but you’re my boy, and that makes you one of us.” He nodded at Marley, then me. “What I’m saying is, you need me, you call. Harper thinks he’s untouchable. He ain’t.”

“Appreciate the offer.” I stared into the same blue eyes I saw in the mirror every morning. Holding his offering, I thanked God that Mom had resisted his charms all those years ago. Dad was proud, strong, and demanded respect, but he was also a stone-cold killer when necessary. He would have crushed my mother, and he would have molded me into a man who would have broken his mother’s heart.

“How’s your mom?” The fucker could read minds, too.

“Never been happier.”

“Good to hear.”

Dad stepped around me, cupped Marley’s face, and pulled her in for a kiss on the forehead. “Nice meeting you, Marley.”

Marley jerked back, brows pinched.

---