Romeo (Dark Knights MC/Blood Fury MC: Crossover)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Maddie glanced at the large clock on the wall. The one she watched between patients. She always counted the minutes until she could walk out the door.

Roger had been gone all day doing who knows what—not that she cared—and that made her workday more pleasant than usual. Not only for her but for everyone working at Smith’s. All the employees—from physical therapists to the back-office workers—seemed more relaxed today. They chatted, they joked, they even smiled when the unbearable asshole wasn’t breathing down their necks and looking for any reason to criticize, to write someone up, to dock their pay…

The list was too long.

Roger Smith was a fucking tyrant. He crowned himself the king of his own castle and ruled his kingdom with an iron fist. He was the reason the business had a constant turnover of employees.

It was no surprise that when someone quit, Roger called them “soft,” “lazy,” “stupid” and worse. Sometimes he even used slurs.

She had just finished working with her last patient of the day and was anxious to get the hell out of there when the front door opened and the man himself walked in.

Her groan was followed with a whispered, “Fuck,” as she ducked behind a large, square column to hide. Usually with Roger, it was out of sight, out of mind. Everyone knew not to make quick moves to draw his attention.

All the employees remaining on the floor most likely had their fingers crossed behind their backs, hoping he’d go directly to his office at the rear of the building. But to get there, he had to walk through the large, open room where they all worked with their patients.

Everyone quickly made themselves scarce or pretended they were busy. Nobody made eye contact if they could help it.

Pressing her back against the column, she closed her eyes and held her breath, listening carefully.

Suddenly, it wasn’t Roger she was thinking about. Because the last time she had her back against a wall…

She could once again feel the press of Romeo’s solid body and his hard, thick cock. The way he gripped her hair. The way he took control of her mouth in a kiss that made her knees buckle and her heart race. The way one of his massive thighs smashed against her throbbing pussy. The way his beard scratched against her skin.

His heat. His scent. His taste.

The intensity of his deep brown eyes once he broke off the kiss.

All of it came flooding back. Playing out on the back of her eyelids like a 3D movie, causing her pussy to clench with wanting a man she shouldn’t mess with .

She didn’t want to want him.

Her body and her brain warred over that fact.

Common sense told her getting involved with the president of the Dark Knights would be just plain stupid.

She jumped out of her skin when she opened her eyes and found Roger standing only a couple of feet away from her with his blond eyebrows pinned together and his cruel mouth twisted.

“What are you doing?”

Hiding from you. “I was… feeling dizzy.” Not a complete lie. Her memory of the kiss with Romeo had made her a bit weak in the knees all over again.

“No surprise. Because you are dizzy.”

Why the hell did she continue to work here and put up with his bullying?

Oh, that’s right , she wanted a job with a professional sports team and, unfortunately, Roger had connections.

That meant, if she flipped him the bird, told him to go to hell, and stomped out, she’d be lucky if she got a job working with a local Little League team. He’d make sure she was blackballed in all of the Pittsburgh area.

Why did assholes have all the power? Most likely because they stepped on the “little people” as they worked their way to the top.

She fought the urge to peek around the column at the clock. If he caught an employee clock watching, he called them out on it. Loudly. Not caring if he embarrassed the person he was berating. Not caring if patients were in the room, including children.

Actually, Roger didn’t care about anyone but himself. The narcissist’s only other love was money. During the last year and a half, she had never once heard the man mention family or friends. Or even a pet .

She might complain and get annoyed sometimes with her MC family but at least she had people who loved her, looked out for her, and would come stand by her side if she called them.

It was pretty much a guarantee if one of Roger’s employees was behind the wheel of their vehicle and he tripped out in the parking lot and fell to the ground, he’d end up as a speed bump. Several times over.

“Since you have fifteen minutes before the end of your shift and you’re only holding up that post, why don’t you go clean the restroom.” It wasn’t a request but an order.

What an asshole.

She was a certified physical therapist, not a custodian. Cleaning toilets was not in her job description or in her future career plans. Did he fire the night custodians because he was such a cheap fucker?

Or did he insult the cleaning company’s workers enough, so they quit? She wouldn’t put it past him if he called them some sort of racist slurs.

The only good thing about working at Smith’s, despite the owner being a douchebag, was that it had a great reputation for helping athletes. But that had more to do with the caring physical therapists he employed, not Roger. It also meant they were always busy and that usually helped the day go faster.

Should she tell him no? If she did, would he be a total dick? Or would he fire her for insubordination? If he did, he could fight her getting unemployment compensation while she searched for a new job.

Then she wouldn’t have her rent or any money at all. If that happened, she’d have to move home. Eventually, she’d also get sick of hearing how she shouldn’t have moved away in the first place. And how life was better in Manning Grove than anywhere else.

Sure it was. If you loved small town living. If you loved everyone being all up in your business. As well as having an opinion on everything you did with your life and not being afraid to share that opinion. Out loud.

And dating? It was slim pickings up there unless she wanted to be with a biker.

She did not.

At least long term.

Because after that kiss, that toe-curling reminder two days ago, one night with a biker able to keep his mouth shut might not be so bad.

Wearing a scowl, Roger barked, “Why are you still standing there?”

He always expected everyone to jump the second he ordered them to jump. He managed the business using fear and intimidation, then put on a fake front when dealing with his clients and vendors.

Someone needed to put Roger in his place. But until she had something better lined up, it wouldn’t be her.

“If you hustle, you can get the toilets scrubbed in the next twelve minutes, so get to it.”

“I didn’t spend years getting my graduate degree to clean toilets.” At least toilets anywhere other than in her apartment.

Roger leaned in closer and sneered, “I don’t pay you to not follow my orders. Do you think you’re too good to clean them?” He glanced at his watch. “Time is ticking, Mad. I don’t care how late you have to stay to get it done. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth from biting her tongue so hard.

She had a decision to make. Do what he demanded and keep her damn job or refuse and watch her career fall apart when he damaged her good reputation as a sports physical therapist.

Roger would no doubt lie to destroy her. Again, typical narcissist behavior.

Unfortunately, the decision she really wanted to make—kneeing ol’ Roger in the balls—would get her arrested for assault. Instead, she would fantasize about doing that while she scrubbed the damn toilets.

She should’ve moved to another area with other professional sports teams and skipped Pittsburgh completely.

Too late.

Even so, she had a goal, and no one was going to derail it.

Not even Roger Smith.

She was determined to get what she wanted, despite him and his asshole ways.

It didn’t take her twelve minutes. It took her over an hour to get all the disgusting toilets cleaned inside and out. “Gross” didn’t even cover it. She now had the utmost respect for people who cleaned for a living. They certainly weren’t getting paid enough to scrub piss covered floors or toilet seats. Or to pick up questionable items off the floor.

Once again, she sat in her car in the now empty parking lot while staring at her closed place of employment and contemplating her life choices.

After she finished with her assigned task and walked out of one of the bathrooms, she almost smacked right into Roger. Apparently, he’d been inspecting her work .

He was the asshole-ist asshole in a world filled with assholes.

It had been on the tip of her bleeding tongue to tell him that.

She didn’t. She swallowed it back down, squeezed past him, grabbed her things, and walked out the front door with her head held high since it was never smart to reveal your weakness to a narcissist.

She waited for him to call her back or complain about something she’d done. To make her do it all over again. He was lucky he didn’t.

Actually, she was lucky she could keep her thoughts contained. As difficult as that was.

She sat in her Toyota Highlander while he closed up and locked the front door. She sat in her car as he walked to the spot reserved for him near that front door. She sat in her Toyota as he slid into his Porsche.

And she remained sitting in her vehicle as he drove out of the lot without even a glance in her direction.

If looks could kill, his Porsche would’ve exploded with how hard she glared at it.

The clock on the dashboard said it was only a few minutes away from five-thirty. Her day was supposed to be done at four. Would she be paid for that extra hour and a half? Of course not. Be a few minutes late and get docked pay. Stay late and her time was a donation.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she would last at Smith’s. But it also wouldn’t look good on her resume if she job hopped.

Or couldn’t get a good reference.

Or was lied about.

And she was pretty damn sure if she told Roger to take this job and shove it, then he’d make up all kinds of stories about her.

She grabbed her phone out of the center cup holder and pulled up her contact list. She scrolled until she found Zeke’s number.

Maybe some time with her friend would help get her out of her miserable mood.

After three rings, she expected it to go to voicemail.

It didn’t.

A female answered on the other end. “Yeah?”

Yeah? “I’m looking for Zeke.”

“Who’s this?”

Maddie pulled in an irritated breath. “A friend.”

“He’s busy with another friend right now. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

She wasn’t stupid enough to ask what he was doing with that “friend.” She could guess. Especially since he was too busy to answer his own phone.

“Who’s this?” she asked the woman.

The phone went dead.

Maddie pulled it away from her ear to confirm the woman hung up on her. She quickly texted Zeke’s number. Call me when you’re not busy. Hopefully you’re okay.

Just as she was about to toss her phone on the passenger seat, her phone dinged with an incoming text.

The second she pulled it up, she regretted it. It was a photo of Zeke with one naked woman sitting on his face while another sucked his cock. The message with it read: He looks okay to me.

The only reason she recognized him was due to his tattoos. Otherwise, since his face was covered, it could be any photo of a man having group sex. But she really doubted Zeke would keep those kinds of photos on his phone. Naked women? Probably. A naked man? Not likely.

She quickly deleted the photo and wondered what she should do next.

The best thing would be to go home, have a couple glasses of wine, and watch a rom-com or something. Anything to get her out of this foul mood.

She searched through her contacts. She could call home and talk to her mom or sister. She could also call Jude.

She could even call Shade. With him, she just wouldn’t be able to vent about work. Otherwise, she might end up jobless and not because of being fired, but because her boss would no longer be breathing.

That was also her fear when it came to talking to the rest of her family. If Shade caught wind of her troubles at Smith’s, he just might hop on his sled and take a trip south.

She had to protect her stepfather from himself.

Instead, she continued to scroll. She could text Gabi and see what she was up to. See if she wanted to grab dinner or something or even come over to watch the movie with her.

But before she found Gabi’s number, another entry caught her eye.

BBC.

Was that a joke? It had to be a joke.

She didn’t put that in her contacts?—

No damn way…

Holy shit . She forgot that Romeo put his number in her phone at Bangin’ Burgers.

Should she call him? Or just try to ignore that he existed?

Or she could call him.

Just to give him shit about the whole BBC thing.

But maybe that was why he did it. To get a reaction from her .

She should ignore it.

She should.

But did she?

Of course not. She clicked on the number and pressed Send.

Her excuse? She really needed to take her mind off work that didn’t involve a lot of alcohol. He might be able to do that without her getting buzzed to do so.

The man with a “BBC,” as he self-proclaimed, might be her solution.

His phone only rang once before he answered. “‘Bout time.”

She rolled her eyes at that greeting. “BBC? Really?”

A deep chuckle filled her ear. “Know what it means?”

“Why don’t you tell me, since you’re the one who put it in my phone?”

“Would rather show you.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Worth takin’ another look.”

“Then, you can send me a pic.” A dick pic, that was.

“2D pics don’t do it justice. It’s more impressive in 3D.”

“Honestly, Rome, at the time, I didn’t know better. Now I know you’re only average.”

“Damn,” came his whisper.

“I don’t know who’s cockier. You or Zeke.”

“Guess you could say I’m cockier since mine’s bigger.”

Maddie groaned and rolled her eyes even harder this time. “I haven’t seen his to compare.”

She couldn’t even see it in the picture she deleted. A woman’s head with long bleach blonde hair had censored it. However, she did note that someone needed her roots touched up.

But that was neither here nor there .

“He’s a bit young for you, dontcha think?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the age difference between me and him is the same as me and you. Am I too young for you?”

That shut him up. At least for a second or two.

“Whataya doin’?”

Funny how he wanted to change the subject instead of answering. “Sitting in my car talking to you.”

“Why you in your cage?”

Good thing she knew that “cage” was biker slang for her vehicle. “I’m trying to decompress.”

“From what?”

“Work.”

Silence filled her ear for a few seconds. “Whataya doin’?”

What? “I just told you?—”

“No. Whataya doin’ callin’ me?”

“I figured that’s why you put your number in my phone. So I’d call it.” Duh.

“Whataya lookin’ to get outta this call?”

“A conversation?” She didn’t realize Romeo was so damn dense.

“That ain’t it.”

“It isn’t?”

“What d’you want from me, Maddie?”

“I just said a conver?—”

He cut her off again. “Ain’t it.”

“Okay, then tell me why I’m calling you.”

“Want me to take your mind off whatever’s makin’ you need to decompress.”

Well, that was true. Maybe she was wrong, and he wasn’t so dense after all.

“Know plenty of ways to do that,” he went on.

That might be true, too. “How?”

“First, I’m gonna spread you wide, bury my face between your sweet fuckin’ thighs, then use my tongue ’til you scream for me to stop. ’Til you buck off the bed. ’Til you come so many times, you can’t even fuckin’ move.”

His crudeness should be a turn off. It was the opposite.

Why did his deep voice combined with dirty words light her on fire?

“Then, I’m gonna?—”

“Romeo,” came out on a ragged breath in an attempt to stop him.

She didn’t need to hear him explain it, she could already picture it in her mind.

Her pussy clenched violently and began to throb. Her fingers and toes curled. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

He needed to stop before she climaxed right there in her driver’s seat in the parking lot of Smith’s.

She never had phone sex before, but she imagined this came damn close.

“Gonna fuck me over again or you gonna lemme fuck you?”

“I didn’t?—”

“Be at Dick’s. Twenty minutes. You don’t show up, delete my fuckin’ number.”

“Are we going to play pool?” Despite trying to be a smart ass, her breathless voice gave her away.

“We’re gonna play somethin’ and it ain’t gonna be pool.”