Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn
15
Jayce
As I sat on my bike in the woods, veiled in darkness and staring across the road at the sheriff’s run-down motel, I thought about the man I should have killed today.
As far as days went, today had been pretty fucking shitty. I could’ve handled things better with Sid. In the heat of the moment, I’d been hesitant to make a move on the man. Cautious that he was expecting it, or was waiting for me to try to stick my pocket knife into his heart. Now that it was over and I was looking back on it, I regretted not making the attempt. Surely I could’ve sunk my steel into his body, whether in his heart or in his gut. I could have tried. Not doing anything made me feel like a coward. Why was I staying in this damn town if not for a chance at revenge?
And the way I’d handled Charlotte…
That made me feel like a coward in a different way. There was no denying it: I was a fucking asshole. I had to be in the moment, to keep Sid from using her against me. But after? I could’ve done a better job of explaining why. I could have consoled her.
I would’ve, I thought stubbornly, if my arm wasn’t in so much fucking pain.
A few pills washed down with some Jack Daniels had numbed the throbbing to the point that I could ride my bike. It wasn’t broken, which meant there wasn’t anything a doctor could do except tell me to lay off it. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to do that.
The most important thing now was making sure Charlotte was safe. Despite my show of telling her off today, I was terrified that Sid saw through it. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I knew she was okay. Even if it was just for tonight.
Through the trees, I could see the light of her motel room. Her silhouette passed in front of the window shade a few times, and then Charlotte left her room and visited the lobby. She returned with a six-pack of Bud Lite under her arm. Now might’ve been the perfect time to show my face, apologize, and share a drink. Most wounds could be healed while sharing a beer or three, I’d learned. People wanted to forgive each other. Sometimes they just needed an alcohol-aided push.
But just the thought of going into that room filled me with scandalous thoughts. Passion rose up in me like a flame. The way Charlotte filled out those jeans, and popped her hips with each step like she was on a runway, stirred something in me that I struggled to ignore. I wanted her, the same way I’d wanted her when I saw her in that jail. I imagined ripping her clothes off, literally tearing her panties because there wasn’t enough time to pull them off her legs. Exploring her body, cupping her tight little ass in my palm. Getting a handful of those tits. And feeling the wet, pink pussy that begged for a good, hard fuck.
I wanted to fuck her all night like the world was ending tomorrow. Like I had nothing left to give.
I wanted to make her mine.
And that scared me more than all of Sid’s threats.
The familiar rumble of Copperhead bikes knocked me out of my fantasy. I reached to the side of my Indian Scout where my shotgun was mounted between the chain. I held it across my lap and waited.
They came into view the way they always did, driving east along the road. They avoided the major highways whenever they escorted their product across the state. There were more of them than usual tonight: I counted twenty-two on the front and twenty-four on the back. A larger escort for the mixer than normal. They must’ve gotten a tip about trouble farther to the east.
Or they think I would try something tonight.
It would have been easy to ambush them here. Sid always rode in the middle of the pack, directly in front of the cement mixer. I could leave my hiding spot and pump Sid full of shells when they came around the corner, before anyone knew what was happening. The rest of the Copperheads would gun me down within seconds, sure. But I’d take him down with me. I’d get the revenge I’d been dreaming about since he destroyed my life.
The last of the bikes rumbled by, the opportunity lost.
I relaxed and slid my shotgun back into its holster. A sliver of a woman was peeking through the curtains in the motel, watching the convoy pass. A second later she disappeared and the curtain fell back into place.
Sleep well, Peaches, I thought to myself.
No matter what I had to do, I would keep her safe.
Even if it meant keeping her away.
