6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

“Was that who I thought it was last night?” Rogue questions me as he lines up his stick for his next shot.

“If you’re talking about Lottie, then yup.”

“Damn. She’s changed. Where has she been all these years?”

I cup the back of my neck. “Couldn’t tell you. I haven’t kept tabs.”

He glances at me with lifted brows and wearing a smirk that says, ‘yeah right’ while taking his shot and sinking the eight ball to win the game.

“Seriously. Lost track of her when she was in college. Always figured she’d marry up and settle down with a couple of kids with some preppy fucker. Someone who could offer her more.”

“More than you?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Bullshit. Always been the way of things between you. She was always chasing after you with hearts in her eyes, doing anything and everything to get your attention. Now it looks like the tables have turned.”

I never told anyone about Lottie and me hooking up, but I guess we weren’t as secretive as I thought back then.

“If I got that wrong, then maybe I’ll hit her up. Take her out to dinner. Buy her a steak or some shit.”

“The fuck you will.” I snarl, and he bursts out laughing, doubling over, holding his stomach.

“You should see your face.” He holds both palms up in surrender.

“Fuck you. Asshole.”

He flips me off and picks up his empty bottle, motioning to Asphalt for another, since it’s about the only drink he can be trusted to serve. Dumbass makes the weakest drinks on the planet. If he’s behind the bar, no one is catching a buzz.

I fire up a joint to mellow myself out after Rogue’s antics.

Truth is, I’ve been tempted to track her ass down many times through the years that’s separated us, but I figured I was the last person she’d want to see. Last night, however, changes shit. That magnetic pull that always tethered us together is as strong as it ever was. If not, more so.

She can play hard to get all she wants, but we both know at the end of the day I’m the man she belongs to. She’s always been mine. I just need to remind her.

“So, what are you going to do?” Tyrant asks.

“About what? ”

“Lottie, the little hottie with a body.” He chuckles as I glare at him.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, man. This could be your chance to have something good.”

“You gonna make love to that joint or smoke it?” Ghoul asks, grabbing it from me.

“You’re one to talk. Way you string that Tonya chick along every time you roll into town.”

“I’m just looking for a good time. Nothing long term like you sad sacks of shit.” He takes a hard toke and gets choked up on the intake of smoke.

“Right. Guess that’s why you hit her up first thing every time you roll into town.”

He shrugs. “She’s a sure thing.”

“So is Kitty.” I remind him. Not that I need to.

“Whatever.” He passes me the blunt.

I take a hit and ask out of curiosity. “What was the deal with that Rage fucker? Is Tonya his woman or something?”

“Dude is a fucking whacko. Get this. They were married for five years, and she finally gets pregnant and partway through the pregnancy they find out their baby has a disability. This asshole leaves her high and dry and claims there’s no way the kid is his. That he’d never father a kid with special needs. Signed his rights away when she went after child support. Says the DNA test was rigged. ”

“Next time I see him, I’ll kick his ass for free,” I grumble. “Fuck that guy.”

“Answer me something. How do you know Tonya’s friend?”

“Long story.”

Tyrant grins. “She’s his stepsister.”

“Former,” I clarify.

“Hell, that explains a lot,” Ghouls says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your type. Nearly every bitch you get all into looks like her.”

“No, they don’t.” I snuff the bud out and fold my arms across my chest.

“Did I ruffle your feathers, bro?” he chuckles. “Think about it. You’ve been hung up on that girl from West Virginia. She’s like a carbon copy of Lottie. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Banging curves. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I’d like to prove him wrong and pull up Ember’s social media profile to show him, but looking at her picture, there’s no denying it. I have a type. Lottie. I’ve spent the past ten years looking for her in every woman I’ve been with. Chasing the ghost of her. Trying to find what I lost.

She was the first and only girl I’ve ever loved. We were both young and made mistakes, me most of all.

Shit. I’ve gotta prove to her that this time around, I’m going to do things right .

Show her I’m not some loser that can’t provide for her. I make damn good money doing what I do. I can give her the good life I promised. I shoot off a text to our contractor asking what it’d take to finish my build before Halloween. I need my own place. I sure as fuck don’t want to bring Lottie back here, where everyone will be watching us like their favorite reality show now that everyone has heard our shared history.

“Breaking news,” the reporter’s voice blares from the tv by the bar. “A jogger who was found dead in the park has been identified. Local businessman Lonnie Kovack was an avid jogger, and authorities have ruled his death an accident. Officials say his family is devastated and want to remind everyone about taking proper safety precautions. They say what happened to Lonnie was a freak accident. It is believed he tripped on wet leaves and hit his head on a rock, of all things.”

I grab the remote off the bar and switch the channel.

Minutes later, I receive an email that a new deposit is available in my account. A bonus for a job well done, no doubt. Good. I’m going to need it to pay for the construction of my place. The guy I hired is good, but he’s not cheap. This is going to cost me a whack.

Getting to take Lottie there when I win her back will be worth any price.

Speaking of Lottie, I’m interested in knowing who this Cade bastard is that she was dating .

It hits me that I know nothing about her now. Not where she works or what she does for a living. No clue where she even lives. However, I know what she drives.

With a little poking around, I’ll have her address and place of employment within an hour. Then I’ll figure out who this Cade fuck is.

I head to my room here at the clubhouse and fire up my laptop. I type in her name when I receive an email notification with the subject line: your stepsister is in trouble. Which only means one thing. I’ve got another job to do. It’s a stupid code I chose off the list of options.

I’ve barely reconnected with Lottie and already I’ve gotta ride out. I don’t want to, but the money is too good to pass up.

I grab my backpack from my closet and shove some clean clothes inside and my burner phone. My latest piece with the serial number etched off goes between my shirts. I’ll stop at Wyatt’s to gas up and grab a few snacks for my trip. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Won’t know the job until Merc gives me my orders. He owns the Velvet Rooster. A shithole bar in the middle of nowhere is his cover. Old fuck has his fingers in several pies. He can make anyone disappear. Hell, I’ve seen him bring gangsters back from the dead and turn them into bikers. Men like Ghost who was once in line to be a Capo. Now, years after his supposed death, he’s the Prez of Black Rebel Riders’ MC Chicago chapter. Married him, a pretty little princess named Adeline. Last I heard, she’s pregnant. And good for him. After the shit that happened to him. His pregnant bride to be and his father were gunned down on the church steps on his wedding day. If anyone deserves something good, it is that man.

It gives me hope that I’ll get another chance with Lottie. Fuck. I’m not leaving it to chance. I’m not giving her a choice this time around.

I go in search of Prez to let him know I’m hitting the road.

“I’ve got a meeting.”

“So soon?” His eyes crinkle around the edges, showing a hint of concern.

I don’t normally do back-to-back jobs, but it’s also not unusual in this business.

“Unfortunately.”

I find Zero, one of the prospects. “Do me a solid. Look up an old friend of mine and send me everything you can find on her. Lottie Rae Pierce. Write that shit down and send it to me while I’m on the road.”

“I’m on it.”

I would ask Country to look after her, but hell, he’d probably sweep her off her feet. If anyone could take her from me, it’d be that bastard and his monster dick.

“Thanks, man.

“Check in when you can,” Prez calls out after me.

I catch Ghoul in the parking lot, about to take Tonya home .

“Where can I find your friend?”

“Lottie?”

I run a hand over my hair. “Yeah.”

I watch as Lottie struts toward me in her tight black pants, her ponytail swinging in time with the sway of her hips. She’s mesmerizing and hypnotizing every motherfucker in the joint and doesn’t even know it.

No wonder I had to wait twenty minutes for a table to free up in her section. Every man in here is staring at her ass. Who can blame them? She’s got a damn fine ass.

“Hey, hellcat?” I flash a grin at her, and she scowls.

“What are you doing here?”

“A man needs to eat.”

“There are other restaurants you can go to.”

“Not any with an ass as fine as yours.”

She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the hint of pink coloring her cheeks.

“What do you want, Seth? You want breakfast? Here’s your menu.” She slams it onto the table.

But it’s not the food I hunger for. I study her reactions carefully, calculating how much further I can push her .

I watch her take a deep breath, steeling her spine before she speaks again.

“Seth, I’m working. What do you want?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Some breakfast... and maybe a little conversation. Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” she retorts immediately, but her gaze betrays her. Her eyes flicker towards the empty seat across from me before she can stop herself.

“Sit with me,” I demand, not missing the opportunity to spend even a few minutes with her before I have to leave town. Her eyebrows shoot up in disbelief, but there’s a hint of curiosity with the way her lips twitch like she wants to smile.

“No way. I can’t,” she protests, but there isn’t any genuine conviction behind her words.

“Why not?”

“Because this is my job, and I have customers to serve.”

I glance around, noting the now mostly empty tables around us. The morning rush appears to be over.

“I'm sure they can survive without their waitress for a few minutes. Humor me.”

A busboy emerges from the kitchen to clear the surrounding abandoned tables. He looks at us, confusion apparent. His brows drawing deeper together as she plops into the seat.

Maybe he has a crush on her and isn’t used to seeing her with someone .

I watch him grab the crumpled bills off the tables. Wordlessly, he hands the bills over to Lottie, then returns to the back, giving us some privacy.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Cut the crap and tell me what you’re really doing here.”

“You kept it.”

She fingers the locket hanging around her neck. The one I gave her on her sixteenth birthday.

“So what? It’s pretty.”

“Nothing.” I let it go.

“What do you want to eat?” she pulls an order pad from the pocket of her apron and clicks her pen open.

“Why don’t you surprise me?”

She drops the pen and crosses her arms defensively over her chest. “This is some sort of game to you, isn’t it?”

“There’s no game being played here,” I respond quickly, irritated that she thinks I would purposely fuck with her. “I’ve got to head out of town for a bit. Wanted to see you before I go. That’s all.”

“Hmm.” She studies me a beat and the chime for the front door sounds. “I’ve gotta get back to it. I’ll put your order in.” She slides out of the booth.

As she turns to leave, I reach out and gently grab her wrist, halting her in her tracks. “Lottie. When I get back to town, let me take you to dinner.”

“I don’t…”

“Think about it, beautiful. ”

She nods and puts my order in with the kitchen. She gets back to work as her tables fill back up with the lunch rush.

Now and then, she throws me quick glances, her eyes showing a mix of confusion, mistrust, and curiosity. I can see she’s trying to figure out if she wants to waste her time with me. I can’t blame her for doubting me. Our past is littered with secrets and half-truths. Betrayals that cut from both ends. Neither of us are innocent parties in the way we began or how we ended.

I watch her float between tables, chatting with customers, refilling coffee mugs and grabbing takeout orders from the kitchen window for customers waiting at the counter. Fuck me. I’ve missed her. Missed this sassy and gorgeous hellcat who can put a man in his place without batting an eyelash.

She’s beautiful.

I’m going to make her mine again.

After what feels like an eternity, she finally returns to my table with a plate overflowing with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, hash browns, and toast. The perfect choice to fill me up before I head out. Saves me from grabbing a bunch of junky snacks from the gas station that will only make me tired and moody.

“Enjoy,” she says curtly before walking away again, saving her pleasantries for her other tables. I don’t mind the attitude. Sparring with Lottie has always turned me on .

Digging into my meal gives me something to do besides watch her every move and overthinking everything that’s happening between us. Of course, over the years I’ve tried to forget her, but there’s always been a void that can only be filled by her.

After her mom passed, I never thought I’d see her again, but now she’s here. Living a town over from me. It’s got to be fate or some bullshit like that.

I walked away before. Ran is more like it. Not this time around.

As I finish my plate, I steal glances at her once again. She’s back to her tables, her ponytail bobbing with each hurried step she takes as she rushes to make sure everyone has what they need.

I should pay my tab and leave her to it, but I can’t. Not until she agrees to dinner or at least gives me her number. Not that I can’t find it easy enough. There’s not many people named Charlotte Rae Pierce in the area that’s the same age as her.

I decide to wait for the rush to subside before bringing up dinner once more. Maybe Lottie wants nothing to do with me. Maybe she’s moved on, but my heart still beats for her. Even after all these years. I know what I’ve been missing and what I want.

Her.

Always Lottie .

When the crowd thins once more, she appears by my table again, a forced smile on her face.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Your number.”

Her smile wavers at that. She glances around nervously.

“I don't have time for this,” she hisses. “I have work to do.”

“Make time,” I insist, looking directly into her eyes.

“God. You’re so stubborn.”

“Digits, babe. Write’m down.”

“Ugh.” She complains but does as she’s told. She writes her number on a ticket and rips it off the pad.

“Better not be a fake.”

“Guess you’ll have to trust me.”

“Right.” I pay my tab and get on the road.