Page 6

We call it The Lockup, our clubhouse, in the bones of the old county jail, bullet holes in the walls.

Barbed wire still crowns the rooftop like a halo of sin, and the holding cells downstairs make damn good bunkers when a fight breaks out.

We turned the old warden’s office into a war room and the mess hall into our own personal hellhole.

Only thing missin’ is an electric chair like our National Prez has out in California. Been tryin’ to win it off the bastard for years. Big Daddy won’t let go of it.

I rack the balls on the beat-up pool table in the center of the main room while my brothers howl and slap bets down on who’s gonna win. Bourbon’s flowing. Weed’s burning. The music’s loud enough to shake the fucking brick walls.

Royal leans on his cue, grinning like a jackal, biting his tongue ring. "You hittin’ that blonde tonight or passin’ her to me?"

"The blonde or the redhead?" I nod to the bar where Becki and another club bunny, Tawny, are pouring fireball shots straight into each other’s mouths.

Oaks chuckles, dark and low. "Damn, Becki’s got that crazy glint again. You better lock your bedroom door or she’ll carve your name into her thigh with a steak knife."

"She already did that," I mutter.

Rye snorts. "Bet her mama taught her that shit at Pearly Gates Sunday School."

"Enough yappin’. Let’s play," I growl, taking the first shot and sinking two solids clean.

It ain’t long before the girls come strutting over. Becki’s wearing her favorite leather bustier, nothing but attitude and nipple rings. Tawny’s got her hand on my back, tracing the ink down my spine.

One of the club bunnies, a new girl named Kandddy with three ds, for a reason, and no shame, tags along right behind her wearing the hell outta a "Property of Nobody" tank like it's a damn invitation.

"Can we help you line up your next shot, Prez?" Kandddy purrs.

I don’t stop her when she leans in and presses her titties to my arm.

Tawny trails a fingernail up my chest. "You know we’ve been waiting for you all night."

"You boys done playin' games?" Becki says, impatient as always.

Royal whistles. "Well, hell, maybe we should leave y’all to it. Game’s over anyway. Legend always wins."

"Game just started, darlin'," I mutter, setting down my cue stick. "Y'all ready to lose?"

Oaks laughs, slapping the table. "Christ, Prez, you keep collectin' women like this. We gonna have to add a wing to the Lockup."

"Or build a whole new jail," Lex chimes in, nodding toward Becki's barely there shorts. "One for the sins we 'bout to commit."

I chalk the cue and glance at the door to my room. "You girls want to win tonight? Then get in there and wait on the bed."

Becki crosses her arms, cocks her head and purrs, “No prob, Prez. We’ll just start without you.”

Damn. I set down my stick, give the boys a shrug and finish my drink. "Being Prez has its perks."

Whiskey grins. "Till they start callin’ you Daddy."

I wave him off and head to my room. As Royal explains to Whiskey, being called a Daddy doesn’t only mean you’ve knocked a girl up anymore.

The boys whoop and howl, but I just grin and let Becki and the other bunnies lead me back through the cellblock halls.

My boots echo off the concrete as we pass the holding cells we turned into storage and bunkrooms. At the end of the row, I kick open my door, a steel-plated slab with a busted latch and a sticker that says **"Welcome to Hell"** half peeled off.

My room’s the biggest in the Lockup, cleaner than the rest, but not by much. The mattress is new, at least. The rest is concrete, old bricks, and steel.

Tawny’s already half-naked by the time we get to my door, her cut-off tank dangling from her fingers like she forgot it even mattered.

Black bra stretched tight over tanned skin, red hair wild like her grin.

She laughs when I hold the heavy door open, hips swaying like she knows what she’s doing to me.

Kandddy’s close behind, blonde, busty, and bold as hell.

Her lipstick’s already smeared from where she kissed the bottle and maybe Becki too.

She kicks the door shut with one heel and pulls her shirt over her head in one smooth motion.

Her tits bounce free, proud and high, and she winks like she knows I’m lookin’.

Becki doesn’t rush. She’s always the one to take her time. Black hair braided down her back, dark eyes fixed on me like she’s waitin’ to see if I’ll stop her. I don’t.

I toss my cut on the back of the chair and crack open the bottle of bourbon. Take a long pull while Tawny climbs up on the bed, tugging her shorts down slow, like she wants me to watch.

“Y’all in heat or somethin’?” I mutter.

Kandddy’s beside her, running a hand down her own stomach, skin glowing in the low light. “I wanna be the reason he forgets her name.”

Fuck. What’s Becki told them?

“Y’all are gonna make me blush,” I grunt, stripping off my shirt. Boots next. Belt buckle clinks as I work it loose.

Becki’s on her knees, licking bourbon off Kandddy’s chest. Tawny is just trying to fit in somewhere, anywhere, wallerin’ like she ain’t got sense. But I ain’t mad at it. They all want one thing.

My legendary dick.

I strip off my jeans and lean against the doorframe. "Well, don’t stop now."

They don’t.

“Been waitin’ for you to get done playin’,” Becki purrs. “Now we want our reward.”

“Clubhouse ain’t quiet,” I say, half-hearted. I rarely leave the party early.

“We’ll be louder,” Tawny grins, tearing the belt from my pants like she’s starting a mower. “You gonna make us beg, Legend?”

“Shit,” I growl.

The girls don’t waste time. Lips and nails and hair everywhere. Clothes hit the floor. Skin slaps skin. Becki lifts her leg slow and smooth, climbing over Kandddy and crawling toward Tawny. The three of ‘em twist together like satin and sin, all lips and hands and need.

I join ‘em, the mattress dipping under my weight. Tawny pulls me down first, mouth on mine, hot and hungry. Becki kisses my neck, slow, like she’s branding me with her mouth. The girl thinks I belong to her. Kandddy straddles my thigh, grinding lazy as she leans in close, her chest pressed to mine.

Becki drags her nails across my abs. Kandddy laughs again, all smoke and sin, before kissing a path down my stomach to take my dick in her mouth. When it pops out, Tawny’s got her hand wrapped around my cock, guiding me where she wants me. She sits down, slow, her wetness takin’ me in.

The three of them move like they’ve done this before, maybe with each other.

Fuck. It’s a nice thought. The view is even better, but I lose track of who’s where.

Fingers dig into flesh. Tongues tease. Hips roll.

Skin slaps skin. The sounds echo off the cement walls of the old jailhouse we turned into our kingdom.

Tawny rides me while Becki kisses my throat, my chest, my scars. Kandddy puts her big jugs in my face. The room smells like whiskey and pussy, and all I hear is moans, mine and theirs. It’s hot and mean but takes some time to please three women.

The girls moan my name like it’s gospel. I give them what they came for. Again, and again.

And when it’s over, they lie tangled up in my sheets, limbs thrown over each other, bodies slick with sweat and sleep. Tawny’s got her leg over Becki. Kanddy’s arm is slung across my stomach, her cheek pressed to my chest.

I slide out from under ‘em, quiet as I can, and grab my jeans off the floor.

I don’t sleep.

I pull on my jeans, grab a half-empty bottle of Stagg Jr., and slip out the side door onto the old jailhouse porch. My eyes scan the ridgeline as I lean on the railing. I can see the faint outline of the hills separating Hell from Paradise Falls. Her world.

I stare into the dark like I might see her.

Sophie Montgomery.

That wild-haired horse princess who looked down on me once like I was just some stable hand.

Now she’s the heiress of Kentucky’s prettiest piece of land.

Still got a fire in her belly and a shotgun in her mouth as well as her hand. Last time I saw her, she looked at me like I’d spit in her lemonade. Like I was the devil in leather.

Good.

I am the devil in leather.

Still...

She’s out there. Sophie. Probably curled up in some big empty bed, surrounded by all that wealth and loneliness.

I take a swig of bourbon, let it burn down deep.

I’ve got no ol’ lady. No leash. Just power and fire and a name that makes grown men flinch.

But I’d be a goddamn liar if I said I didn’t think about her.

I take another drag.

I ain't got a clue why she’s still in my head.

That’s a goddamn lie.

Tomorrow, I’ll go see her.

Tonight, I drink.

And I remind myself I don’t need anybody.

I’m Legend.

And this is my kingdom.

Tomorrow, I ride into Paradise.

She called, and I’ll come running.

I tip the bottle back again and mutter into the wind, "You better be ready for me, Horse Princess."

But something tells me once I step foot back on that farm...

I won’t be the only ghost wandering around.

"Fuck it," I mutter, flicking ash to the wind. "That’s tomorrow's problem."

Tonight?

I'm still free.

Still king of this goddamn hellhole.