Page 6 of Grease’s Guide (Reckless Omens MC #7)

Grease

Earlier that day:

This morning starts out so shitty. Drowning my sorrows and loneliness with a bottle of Jack did me no favors this morning. So basically… Normal, like any other. I'm getting ready to go into the garage, showing my little protégé Rome how to work on cars. The kid really looks up to me, and I always hate it when I disappoint him. So, even with a hangover, I crawl my ass out of bed and head to work.

I keep my head down, my plain black tee in my back pocket, reminding me to grab my cut from the garage when I leave. I have a habit of leaving it in my office since I don't want it messed up with all the grease and shit. Yawning, knowing I need a cigarette before I can string two sentences together, I head through the back door. Unfortunately, I run dead into someone leaving the kitchen, and just like that, scalding hot coffee is running down my chest like red, hot lava.

“Mother fucker!” I yell, looking down into the startled eyes of our little babysitter.

“Toots, you have the worst fucking timing,” I tell her, but notice she isn’t hearing anything I say because her focus is on my bare chest. Her gaze is slowly crawling lower to the open top button of my jeans.

“You going to lift that coffee cup so it stops spilling all over me, or is your plan to get my jeans soaked so I’m forced to take them off? If you want a show, you only have to ask.” I know the smirk and smartass remark will snap her back to the present. Hopefully, before she burns my dick off.

As I suspected, it brings her back to me, and she gives me those hard, steaming, mad eyes. There’s my toots in all her heated glory.

“The day I willingly ask to see your infested rod is the day I join the circus,” she says before turning and walking away. With that wake-up call, I decide to head into the shop. I’ll shower and change there, hoping Rome won't be waiting too long.

***

“Don’t forget to make sure the nut’s tight, Romeo. Don’t want it popping off.” I grin at my scowling nephew, knowing he knows exactly what he’s doing out here but still needing to give him a hard time.

“Keep your dress on, old man, I’m getting to it.” His remark has me scowling. He’s not just becoming a pro in the art of motor vehicles, but apparently in smart-ass fucking remarks as well. I open my mouth to retort but see Prez, Hitter, and Loki heading to the gate. Some faint yelling is coming from the front, and I decide to check it out.

“Rome, stay here and keep working. I’m going to talk to your dad real quick,” I tell him before heading out the door.

Rome calls after me, “If he’s in the same mood he was this morning, be careful. Ma tried bringing a baby squirrel into the house since she wanted her own Rocket, like Auntie Izzy. The problem was, this wasn’t a baby squirrel. It was a baby fox, and it went ballistic.”

I laugh at that news, and don't feel one ounce of sympathy for Loki. That fucker deserves everything that tiny, crazy ass woman puts him through. I’m still chuckling as I make my way to the gate.

I didn't realize that my life was about to change forever. A fact that slammed into my gut with one crazy little woman and a getaway car. The next thing I know, I'm screaming and fighting against the hold my brothers have on me, keeping me from going after her.

“Grease, you need to calm down!” someone says, holding my arms back, but I’m in a blind rage. I don’t know what to do or say. I just have to get to her.

“Calm down? She’s leaving! Didn’t you hear her? She said her goodbyes. She told us to tell the kids bye. She wouldn’t say that if she was coming back!” I scream.

“Dammit, Grease, we need to get the kids inside the gate and safe behind compound walls. You don't even have your bike. What the fuck are you going to do, chase her down on foot?” Hitter yells over the buzzing in my ears. Does it drain the fight out of me? Fuck no.

“If that's what it fucking takes to get her back.” By the time they let me go, I’m seething. I can't look one of them in the eye. My supposed brothers, my family, my club. They just let her go. I run for my bike. Not bothering with a helmet, goodbye, or fuck you. I race off out of the gate in the direction my toots went.

I speed, just keeping straight, I keep going. My breathing coming out in pants. I don't stop, though; I won't until I find her, or it kills me. I ride until my lungs can't take the lack of oxygen anymore. As I make it to Devil's Cross, I nearly pass out and feel my back tire slide. I have just enough straight to lean with the bike, slow, and place my foot down before I lay my bike on the pavement. I breathe deeply, the adrenaline from the almost crash forcing waves and waves of air through my lungs.

I look up at the four-way stop sign. Straight ahead and to the right is absolutely nothing. To the left is the club bar, Devil's Cross. The first place I met my beautiful, strong, stubborn-ass tootsie. I remember not being able to take my eyes off of her. The way she took in her surroundings. The way she wanted to hide, but there was no way to hide her beauty.

“Which way did you go, Tootsie?” I ask, knowing it's a hopeless endeavor. She’s gone, and I have no way to know where.

I don't have a clue how long I wait there, hoping and praying for a sign. Any kind of hint about which way she went.

I hear them before I see their headlights coming this way fast in the distance. There seem to be three of them. I don't know who the fuck is heading to our town, but I would know the sound of a hog anywhere. I wait, knowing I’ve been sitting here too long. I won't make it back to the clubhouse, and I have never been a big fan of running.

One hand on my gun and the other on my cell, I wait. The closer they get, the more tension coils through my body. Don't ask me how, but it's like my body can sense something or someone deadly or dangerous. Then they are in sight. I don't recognize the two in the back, but I definitely recognize the other one leading the ride even before he pulls up beside me.

Devin, Piper's dad. I take my hand off my gun and phone, but I still feel the edge of danger that just comes from being in this man's presence. Most people can't look him in the eye without flinching and nearly pissing themselves. The man’s a legend. One I hope to be like in my old age. Don't tell him I called him old.

He’s barely pulled to a stop before removing his sunglasses from his face, taking one look at my face, then letting his head hang.

“I can tell by your face, boy. We’re too late, ain’t we? She’s already gone?” he asks. I give him a solemn nod before looking back out into the distance. Then his words hit me.

“What do you mean, too late? How do you know she left? Hell, how do you know my woman at all?” I ask, knowing they might have passed each other in the club but probably never even talked. He gives an exhausted sigh before kicking up his kickstand.

“Let’s head back to the clubhouse. We need to tell your prez to call church.”

“First, tell men how you know about Becky!” I demand.

“Who do you think sent her to you, boy?” He smiles before revving the engine and taking off.

What the absolute fuck is going on?