“What?” Blaine asked. “She showed me her pussy. What was I supposed to do? She kept flashing it when I was taking my shots. So I told her if she did it again I was going to jam my fingers up her. She did it again. So I walked up to her and told her to do it again. She did it. I took two fingers and felt her out. Wet and loose. I rammed two fingers up her and she cried out. Then her boyfriend got pissed and smacked me with a pool stick.”
Jett shook his head. Here he was, in deep thought about life and all that bullshit, and Blaine was fingering some chick and starting a fight. It pissed him off, but there was nothing he could do about it now. The fight had happened and they were going to just cruise back to the clubhouse and finish up the night. There was plenty of whiskey, beer, and relievers to take care of anything the guys needed. Jett figured maybe tonight was the right time now. Grab two or three of the hottest and sluttiest relievers hanging around and let them go to town on him. Or better yet, have Blaine pull his strings with all the strippers he knew in Frelen.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Jace said. “Fuck this scene, man. I’m done with all that right now. We’re better off all together in case we get attacked again.”
Jett froze and looked over his shoulder. “What the fuck is going to come of that mess? I feel like we’re chasing our tails.”
“Maybe we are, bro,” Jace said. “But it’s bad. Erik almost died. You see his face? He’s going to be fucked up for the rest of his life. And that’s scary, man. He’s a loose canon as it is.”
“Hey, speaking of loose canons,” Blaine said. “My cock is a little full right now from touching that chick in there. Can we ride? I need to let one go.”
“Fucking hell, man,” Jett said.
They kept walking, and it took all of a second for Jett to realize there was something on his motorcycle.
As he got closer…
Fuck, not something. Someone.
“There’s a drunk chick on your ride,” Jace said.
“How the fuck did you get this lucky?” Blaine asked.
The chick was literally right over the seat. Just dangling there. Feet almost touching the ground on one side, fingertips almost touching on the other. Her shirt was pulled up a little, showing some skin. She wore some tight jeans and had a nice little curvy ass.
Jett approached and smacked at her hip. “Hey, beautiful, wake the fuck up. This ain’t your ride.”
“She could be my ride,” Blaine said.
“Hey!” Jett yelled. He smacked her ass. “Wake the fuck up!”
The woman didn’t move.
“Christ,” Jace said. “How drunk is she? Is she fucking dead?”
Jett felt his heart drop. That’s all he needed right now. Some chick dead on his ride. He rushed to the other side of the motorcycle and moved her hair out of the way. Dark, dirty blonde hair that was thick. Just the kind Jett liked. Her eyes were definitely shut. He stuck two fingers to her neck - nice, soft skin… - and felt for a pulse.
“She’s alive,” he said. “Pulse is fine.”
Her heart was beating like normal. Not fast, not weak.
Jett crouched down and kept the chick’s hair out of her face. He stroked her cheek with a little more care than he wanted to give her.
“Hey,” he said. “Wake up. Come on. You have no clue where you are right now. Don’t make me call the…”
There was a siren in the distance.
“Oh, fuck,” Blaine said. “That bitch of a bartender called the police for real.”
“Fuck,” Jace said. “We have to ride.”
“What the fuck do I do?” Jett asked. “Just throw her to the ground?”
“What’s the difference?” Jace asked. “She’s drunk. She’ll sleep it off and wake up when she feels it. Or the cops will find her. Don’t get involved.”
Jett grabbed the woman by the jaw and shook her. “Hey! Cops are coming! Wake the fuck up!”
The chick didn’t move. Completely lifeless… except for the normal heartbeat.
“This is fucked,” Jett growled. “Just what we fucking need right now.”
The sirens started to close in.
“They’re coming,” Blaine said. “Chief will get pissed if we’re here hanging around at a scene.”
“Fine,” Jett said.
He grabbed the woman under her armpits. He told himself not to think of how close his hands were to her tits. That would be so fucking wrong to do. That was Blaine’s territory, sleeping chicks and all. Not Jett. They needed to be fucking awake and somewhat coherent.
Jett pulled the chick from his ride and lifted her up. He then slowly spun her to put her on the ground on her back. He knew he would need to turn her head in case she threw up, or else she’d choke on her own vomit. But as he laid her down, he looked at her stomach and let out a groan.
“Blood,” he said. “Fuck, man, fuck.”
“Christ,” Jace said. “She’s stabbed…”
The sirens were even closer.
“What the fuck do we do now?” Blaine asked.
Jett had two options. He could put the chick down and leave her be. Hope she wouldn’t bleed out and die. (Run the risk of having his fingerprints on her and having this mess somehow get tied back to him.) Or he could somehow prop her up on his motorcycle and get her to the clubhouse.
Nice guy or dick guy.
“Fuck,” he yelled. “We have to get her to the clubhouse. Just to check her. Make sure she’s going to live. Then we can drop her off at a hospital or something. I don’t know. I can’t leave her like this.”
“You’re in love with her already,” Blaine said and laughed.