The Riot (Hell's Disciples MC Book 5) (2 page)

Best Friends Forever

Rock

“I don’t know why the fuck I keep comin’ back here.”

Leaning against the cracked vinyl, I shift, trying to get comfortable in the old beat up seat. After this morning, I’m sore as hell and starving to death. Shit took longer than I wanted it to, but at least we got those jackoffs to the club for the others to deal with.

The smell in here is nasty, and the food tastes like garbage. Hell, this whole place sucks, but it’s the service—one waitress in particular—that I come into this shithole for.

Shoving my silverware over, I pick up the menu and skim it over, like I don’t know the damn thing cover to cover. I don’t think a damn thing’s changed on it since the fuckin’ place opened, which was probably about fifty years ago. I order the same shit every time.

“Morning, Rocky,” a deceivingly sweet voice says from over my shoulder. There’s only one person in the world that calls me by my name, and she’s a five-foot-four spitfire.

My sweet little nightmare.

Ellison.

I have a theory that all men are due a certain amount of female bullshit in their lifetime; your mom, maybe a little sister, girlfriends, or wife. You’re gonna get hell from them all, but me? I’ve met my quota from Ellison alone. I’d be lying if I said I hated it ‘cause the woman keeps my heart beating, that’s for sure.

Looking up over my menu, I watch her walk up, confident and sweet as she sets a coffee cup down in front of me. “How you doin’?” That sugary voice belongs to a hellion. Head strong, fearlessly independent, and smart-mouthed, all disguised behind big gray eyes, messy blonde hair, and a tight fucking body.

My girl.

“Good, babe. You?”

“Better now that you’re here.” It sounds cheesy as hell, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t bring a stupid smile to my ugly mug.

“That’s why you come here,” Buck coughs under his breath, catching a boot to the shin the second that shit leaves his mouth. Swear to Christ, if we weren’t here, I’d pop him good. It’s too damn early for him to be starting in on his shit.

“Huh?” El asks, confused. Standing at the end of the table, she looks between the two of us with a perfectly arched brow, and an understanding smirk on her face. She missed what he said, but she gets it.

“Nothin’, babe.” I wave her off. No need to feed
her
monster.

Sliding Buck his coffee, he winks at her. He’s baiting me. “Thanks, darlin’.”

“Sure thing, big guy.” She smiles brightly at him, all eyelashes and plump pink lips. I clear my throat, trying to get her attention. Whatever time I can get with her, I’m takin’ it. Buck’s got his own bitch to bother at home, and this one belongs to me.

“Rocky.” Cocking her hip to the side, Ellison shifts on her feet to look at me again, giving me her undivided attention with a smile. “Same as usual?” she asks, eyeing the menu in my hands. She knows damn well I never change my order. I’m a creature of habit in all things, Ellison being one of them.

“Yeah,” I confirm, handing over my menu.

“Be right up.” She jots it down on her receipt pad as she walks off, and as usual, I watch her go. Her ass swings from side to side in her tight as fuck jeans.

“Hot damn.”

But that’s our relationship. I’m always watching her go. Whether it’s from my bed, the back of my bike, or my life, that’s Ellison—always strutting off in the opposite direction as me.

“Fuck, you’re pathetic,” Buck says, taking a drink of his coffee. “Are you two gonna be the bestest of friends forever and ever?” he mocks me over the coffee cup that’s about to be crammed down his throat. “Let me ask you somethin’. Does knowin’ other men fuck your woman ever bother you?” Of course it does, and he knows it. It always has, and I suspect it always will. That shit eats me up inside, knowing undeserving fucks get to touch her like I do, but El does what El wants, and there isn’t a dam thing I can do about it. I’ve tried, but the only thing it accomplished was driving a wedge between us, and I can’t have a fucking wedge there.

“Patch her ass.” I don’t think so.

“I don’t wanna hear shit from you.” He’s in the same sad sea as me, he’s just on a different damn boat. Him and Lennon are nothin’, but they’re somethin’ neither one of them will define.

“You’re fuckin’ sad, man.”

Yeah, ‘cause he’s been such a ray of sunshine over the past year. “Pot, meet kettle,” I tell him, throwing a smug arm over the back of my seat. His silence is all I need.

Ellison and I have been doing this shit a long time, and everyone knows it. So damn long, in fact, that I’ve lost track of. I’ve known her for over twenty years now, or somethin’ close to that, and grade school was where it started. Me and her brother Mike go back years. She was just five when I first met her—a sweet little girl who turned into a monster.

For as long as I can remember, she’s been in my life, and I hope like fuck she always is. Besides my club, she’s all I’ve got.

Her brother and I were close as fuck until he grew a vagina and patched in with the Raiders. Ever since then, he’s been doing shit to fuck with me. But that’s where I lost him. Drugs took hold of him next, and that’s where El lost him. Mike and I are nothin’ now. He’s a fuckin’ douchebag that needs to be taken out.

I’ve always had an unhealthy infatuation with El. Something about her being forbidden fruit makes her that much more sweeter to me. She was off limits in that unspoken rule for so goddamn long, but once I got my hands on her, I kinda lost my fuckin’ mind over her. I’ve been trying to fuck her out of my system for ten years.

But now we’re friends. Hell, she’s my best
fucking
friend.

El stops at the table across from ours with an armload of steaming hot plates in her hands, and she does it all with that hot as hell sway in her hips. Sliding the load onto the table full of stinky fuckin’ truckers, she does it all with a smile, even though I know she hates this job. I wish she’d let me fix the problem, but she’s hardheaded as fuck.             

Bending over, she sits a plate in front of some fat fucker who’s staring down her shirt, grinning like he’s hit the jackpot. I hate that shit. Hate how she flirts and smiles and chats up these cockwads.

“Everything look good, boys?” I hear her ask them, her voice soft and sexy.

“We’re good, unless you wanna give me your number?” The guy grins. I’m about to rip that grin clean off of his face when she shakes her head and she smiles pleasantly. I know she’s used to it, but it doesn’t make it any easier on
me
. She’ll live through it, but I’m not so sure about me.

“Sorry, boys. All I’m serving is food this morning.” And that’s all she ever better be serving.

“Jesus. Look at you crackin’ your knuckles like you’re about to do somethin’,” Buck chuckles. I’m about three seconds away from getting out of this seat when Ellison walks away from the table of goons.

“Baby.” I stop her, needing her attention on me, which is the only place it should be. Yeah, I’m an asshole about it. “Hot sauce,” I tell her when she stops long enough to look at me. Scooping it off of the bar across from us, she comes on over and slides it onto the table in front of me.

“Thanks, baby doll.”

“Anything for you,” she laughs and rolls her eyes at me. El knows what I’m up to. “Are you feeling needy, Rock?”

Needy?

Grabbing on to her wrist, I jerk her to me. Her knees hit the vinyl seat, and she leans in when I tug her close. “Roll your eyes again at me again, I’ll turn that fat ass of yours a pretty shade of my handprint.” She drives me crazy, and she knows it.

She smirks. “While I’m at work?” Her voice is full of challenge. Why does she test me? My follow-through is accurate as fuck.

“Try me.”

Giving my arm a placating pat, she gets up and off the seat. Looking back at me, she mouths, “Later.” Goddamn right.

Ellison takes a few more orders and serves up the rest of her tables before things slow down, then she’s over at my table again, just like she should be.

“My feet hurt,” she moans, plopping down next to me. Taking a load off, she kicks her feet up onto the seat across from us and slouches. “Wanna rub them for me?” She laughs, clicking her heels together.

“Don’t rub feet, babe. You know that,” I tell her, even though I might just fucking do it for her anyway. Pretty sure if there’s a line where she’s concerned, I’d cross it.

She smiles, but it only lasts until Sarah starts walking towards us, grinning seductively. Leaning against my side, El makes an irritated noise and glares at her. The bitch knows I’m not interested. She only does it to fuck with El, and El knows it, but it still bothers her. Jesus. Women are so goddamn difficult. If El would wear my patch, there’d be no question as to who I belonged to.

Sarah disappears to the other side of the diner, and El’s back to smiling and laughing again. Complicated as fuck.

“So…no rub down then?” she asks with a pout on her luscious lips.

“No.”

“But my feet hurt, Rocky.” Right to the motherfucking heart. She calls me that ‘cause she knows it fucks with me. There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do for her when she asks me in that whiny way of hers.             

“Pleeease.”

“Babe—”

“Come on. You know you want to.”

“Why the fuck you wear those boots if they hurt?” I look down at the pair of combat boots she stomps around in all day. It’s not that I’m complaining, ‘cause those boots bring back good memories—memories of them being thrown over my shoulders not so long ago.

“Because you bought them for me.” Probably should have known that. I think I might have picked them up for her on a run a few years back from some guy selling army surplus shit. Or, it could’ve been from that Indian guy Poncho introduced us to, who made leather goods down on the Rez.

The annoying bell has El jumping outta her seat like it’s on fire. “Order up,” the cook bellows from behind the order window. “Now!”

“Gotta go,” she groans as she gets up and walks off. Rounding the bar, some dude sitting on a stool reaches out and puts a hand on her lower back to stop her, and I start picturing ways I can remove that hand.

“Miss?” The soon to be armless asshole coos sweetly at her.
Pussy
. I hate when someone touches her, and that goes for any man, woman, or child. But that’s not how we are. We live in anything but a perfect world.

“Yeah?” She stops and looks at him, hand on her hip.

“Could I get some more coffee?” He smiles at her and of course, she returns it. That shit makes me pissy as fuck. Maybe that’s why the food here taste so goddamn bad. My constant anger sours the taste.

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back,” she responds before walking around the corner and out of sight.

It’s been years of me watching her with boyfriends, customers, even my brothers, and that shit never gets easier on me. She’s like an illness that I just can’t get out of my system. 

“Yeah, you’re fucking pathetic.”

Buck confirms what I already know. I’m not even going to argue with him ‘cause I don’t have a leg to stand on.

***

I choked down my omelet, braved my hash browns, and shot back my coffee. When I finish, I get up to leave, tossing two twenties on the table before I head for the door, Buck following behind me.

“Rock! Wait up.”

And I do.

“What’s up, babe?” Turning around, with the sun shining on her face, I notice a purple bruise on her forehead that I hadn’t seen before. She attempted to cover it with make-up, but in the dark restaurant, I missed it. I see that shit now.

“The fuck happened to your head?” I growl out, pushing her hair away to get a better look. It’s not bad, but it isn’t pretty either.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she mumbles with a frown a frown on her face. Fidgeting with her hair, she rights it and covers the bruise back up. I swear to fuck, if someone put that bruise on her, I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.

“Better explain that shit real quick, baby doll, before I blow the fuck up.”

“Calm down there, big guy. My shower rod broke. It fell when I was getting out and hit me in the head,” she laughs, like it’s funny and shit. I don’t laugh, ‘cause I don’t find it amusing at all. She lives in a shithole. It doesn’t make me happy to think she’s paying to live in that place with it falling down around her. “Could you come by and help me hang the new one I picked up?”

“Sure.” There isn’t shit I wouldn’t do for her and she knows it. Hang curtains or buy her a small island, all she has to do is ask.

“I’ll be by tonight. Might be late.” Nodding, she smiles that Ellison sweetness at me and bumps playfully into my side. “Thanks, Rock. You’re my hero.”

That’s me, motherfuckin’ Superman.

“Need me to knock or just let myself in?” Who knows if she’ll have one of those clowns she meets tending bar there with her. I’d hate to have to kill someone tonight after this morning.

“Just come in, but who says the door will be unlocked?” she asks defiantly.

“Babe, you never lock your door.” It keeps me awake at night thinking she’s so careless, doing stupid shit like that. Anyone could just walk up in there, then what would she do? Bitch him to death? She’s five foot nothing, a buck twenty soaking wet. She doesn’t have a chance in hell against some crazed lunatic hell-bent on fuckin’ her world up. Fuck. She makes me crazy. “You
need
to lock that damn door, Ellison.”