CHAPTER ONE
– ALFIE –
I open my eyes and the first thing hitting me again is discomfort and the awareness of how life is able to knock you on your ass on any given day. Every damn time I wake up I feel a dull ache and a sense of unease. It was worse the first few weeks when I was just injured, and it’s getting less with each day passing, but it sure does something to a man’s mood.
How did I get injured? I was shot, twice in one leg and once in the shoulder, and it isn’t fucking fun I can tell you that much. Luckily the sprained ankle on my other leg I also endured is healed. Well, somewhat, since the pain is next to none. Maybe my grumpy state of mind is overriding the pain. Whatever.
Don’t get me wrong, if I had the choice between stepping in the line of fire or not attempting to stop a bad situation; I’d do it all over again because I was protecting Colt and his old lady. No one fucks with any member or old lady of our MC; we live and die for the brotherhood.
I was the only one close enough when the call came in that Cannon–a biker from Deranged Hounds MC–had gone rogue. I had to face him and a prospect he brought along all on my own. I held on long enough for Colt to jump in and help out. End good, all good.
But healing takes for-fucking-ever and the shitty thing is the fact I have to depend on others for help. And I fucking hate it. I’m always the one handling everything. I’m a damn leader; always on top and ready for anything. And now my ass has been in this bed for weeks.
Not to mention the one I share my life and house with is getting the brunt of my annoyance. Right at a time when we want to complete our lives; adding a woman. And lying on my back without being able to do shit or so much as run into a woman complicates things even more and makes my mind go in loops about all kinds of fucked-up shit. I’m a pathetic mess, but I ain’t going to voice that thought out loud; I’d rather stick to being grumpy and annoy anyone who comes near me.
Laughter flows through the air and it’s coming from the kitchen. It’s Joaquin but there’s someone else with him. A woman. Why the fuck is there a woman in our home? And why the hell is he laughing his flirtatious laugh he only reserves for me?
Yes, along with being frustrated, I’m also a selfish asshole who has laid claim on Joaquin ever since I saw him. But like Joaquin, I’m a man who likes to enjoy both sides and that means having a woman as well as a man in my bed to share my life with.
Joaquin is the opposite of selfish, and he too enjoys sharing a woman between us. Shitty thing is…we haven’t found the right woman yet. And this brings me back to the fact of why the hell would he be flirting with a chick in our damn kitchen?
Unless…motherfucker. He didn’t, did he? “That better not be a new damn caregiver you’re talking to,” I bellow, making the laughter in the kitchen come to an abrupt stop.
I hear the murmur of hushed words I can’t quite make out until I hear footsteps closing in. From the hall I hear a woman’s voice and I swear the angelic tone seduces me through the damn air as if she’s already between my legs, sucking my cock when she says, “And what if he is?”
I close my eyes, because if I see this woman, I won’t be able to stop myself from getting off this damn bed and ripping her clothes off to fuck her seven ways to Sunday.
It’s for this reason I growl, “Get her the fuck away from me, boy.”
“Not happening, Snappy,” she whispers in my fucking ear and it activates my instincts to move fast.
My eyes fly open as my hands fist her shirt. I throw her over me in one fluid motion and onto the mattress beside me, pinning her in place with my body. My shoulder is screaming at me along with pain shooting through my leg, but I can’t voice shit because this woman has her tiny hands wrapped around my throat in a choke hold.
One I can honestly say feels as if she’s about to rip my damn Adam’s apple right out. Do I care? Fuck, no. I’m staring at one hell of a beauty underneath me. Tiny, yet lush. Her hair is a dark, smokey gray ombré wrapped in a long braid, and her eyes are green yet lit with liquid fire.
“Back. Up,” she snaps, but adds in a fake, candy sweet voice, “Please, sir.”
I do not want to change positions for the sole reason her touch is leaking calmness through my skin. I can’t explain it but this woman has a soothing effect on me. The way I let her guide me by the throat away from her body is telling the both of us I’m the one giving in.
My fingers are still gripping the fabric of her shirt and I’m the one guiding her weight; she’s by no way in charge. Yet, I’d gladly let her take over if she wrapped her lips around my cock. Top or bottom ones; whichever is fine by me. Our eyes are locked and I swear I can see our future twinkling in her bright green eyes.
Instead of getting off the bed on the other side, she decides to straddle me first, brushing her fabric covered pussy against my very hard cock. I swear she wiggles first before she slides off. For the first damn time in my life, I have nothing to say.
No joke, no dirty remark, no fucking order or a curse. Nothing. My throat is dry and I don’t know if I should be angry, laugh, or grab my cock and rub one out. This woman is confident, straightforward, and not shy in going up against a man like me. I’m intrigued to say the least.
“Joaquin, can you grab my bag from the kitchen, please?” She might be asking but there’s an edge to her voice to mold her words into a demand.
Joaquin has a knack for flawlessly following through if you curve your fucking voice and it’s why he spins on his heels. My upper lip twitches in anger but this fucking woman gives me a little shake of her head. What the fuck?
I raise my upper body–ignoring the ache in my shoulder–when she closes the door and flips the lock. She stalks back to the bed and jabs a fucking finger against my injured shoulder. A growl rips from my throat but I can’t voice shit because she cuts me off.
“You’re a menace. I’ve read all about you and how you’ve managed to scare away four other caregivers over the past few weeks. That’s going to stop because that man out there has a job too, you know. He needs to get his ass out of this house and you’re going to let him. You and I are going to make sure we get along. I don’t care if we have to fake it. I’ll do what my job description requires me to do and will steer clear of you the rest of the day. If you put in the work it will only take a week or two until you’re completely back to your asshole self. So, buckle up buttercup.”
She turns around just as fast as she rattled out those words and heads for the door to flip the lock again. She lets Joaquin in who hands her a bag but looks at me with bewildered eyes.
I want to lash out at the woman and at Joaquin but the words she just voiced sink in. She’s right about the other caregivers, and I couldn’t care less. But what she said about Joaquin does matter. And again, I realize I’m fucking selfish since I let my frustrations seep through by giving him the brunt of it.
Which is always the fucking case because you lash out to those close to you. And Joaquin is fucking close to me. He’s the whole love, devotion, loyalty. A concept fallen in three pieces and that’s fucking it…we’re two parts of a three way future, lacking one final part to make it complete.
Her angelic voice fills the air when she tells Joaquin, “Why don’t you head over to the veterinarian clinic? I’ll keep an eye on Alfie and fill out some forms I brought before going over the list of things you mentioned that needed to be done.”