Page 37 of The Truths We Seek

That is what matters to me.

“Dario.” He looks up as I say his name and slide into the booth on the bench opposite him. The dainty redhead draped over him looks put out by my arrival but I don’t give a fuck. Dario was expecting me, she can get fucked if she had other plans.

“Rory, good to see you.” He pushes the girl away and points across the room. She lets out a huff of frustration and slides out before stomping away. “Fucking women, man.”

He takes a swig of his beer before refocusing on me. “So, what’s the sitch?”

I take a sip of the cheap whiskey, my nostrils flaring at the shitty taste as I lean back, glancing out at the bar as I do. Usually, I’d want privacy for this, but I also know that, bare minimum, Dario would cut out the tongue of anyone who spoke about his business to an outsider.

Fuck it.

As I lay out Meyer’s plan to work and split the drugs, guns, and money, he keeps quiet. The details are what Meyer planned, and he looks pissed when I talk numbers, but I remind him that the girls he tried to traffic were found by us, and of the fact he threatened Quinn.

He’s lucky to be alive.

His jaw clenches as I remind him that pissing Meyer off is a bad idea, and that everyone here is still alive because Meyer decided to give them another opportunity rather than clear the board of players.

It’s something we’ve done before, it’s exactly how Dario moved in, but apparently he got overzealous.

“I’ll let you know by the end of the weekend.”

I stand and shoot back the rest of the shitty whiskey before slamming the glass back down. “Let me know by the end of tomorrow.”

Without another word, I leave the bar, the Ghosts, each in their cuts, eying me as I go. Fucking bikers.

Once I’m outside in the fresh air, the temptation to just set their bikes alight is real, but I keep my shit in check and head back to my truck. It’s almost midnight and I want to see my girl. Wasting time on these fuckheads isn’t worth it.

At least that’s what I tell myself as a group of them appear outside the bar, watching me as I start up my truck. One of them has a crowbar in his hand, others guns, a few with knives, and I grin at each and every one of them. A silent challenge.

But they remain by the door and I pull out of my spot, heading home.

They might think I’m the asshole here, and I probably am, but I dare them to test me.

My monster could use an unrestricted outlet, but for now, I tuck it away.

I can play with biker entrails another day.

* * *

I get back to my room after the longest fucking day, wanting nothing more than a shower and bed, to find Quinn sitting on the end of my bed in tiny little fucking shorts, a see-through tank top, and those ridiculous fuzzy socks Hunter has been getting her… and all thoughts of sleep disappear while my dick twitches at the sight of her.

“Well, I could get used to coming home to this,” I say with a grin as I pull off my t-shirt and undo my belt, my dick twitching again as her eyes drop to it.

She looks back up at me and I can see the hunger there, but I have a feeling that isn’t why she was waiting for me. “What’s up?”

She clasps her hands together in front of her and her smile widens. “You mean, other than your cock?”

“Yes, Quinn.” I groan as I harden even more. Her talking about my dick is never a bad thing. Ever. “Other than my dick.”

“I was coming to try and win you to my side with convincing Meyer to let me have the girls over.” She pauses, biting her lip, her eyes wandering back down to my now-undone jeans. “But I can think of more fun ways to spend our night.”

“Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone,” I tell her with a wink. “I can think of a few ways you could persuade me to your team.”

Her eyes widen before she blinks at me, biting down on her lip again before she bounces over to me, her pert tits bouncing right along with her, and drops to her knees in front of me, rubbing her hands up my thighs to the opening of my zipper. “I can think of a few too.”

My mouth waters as her fingers wrap around the base of my cock and squeeze hard enough to make my teeth clench and my blood pressure rise with how much I want to pound into her tight little cunt.

Quinn knows my trigger button, the one that pushes me to do unthinkable things to her body and still make her scream my name loud enough to damage her vocal cords.

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