Dirty Men 03 - Rough Neck Read online

  T H R E E

  Davis

  BY THE TIME I’VE GOT my truck and trailer pulled around the corner and into the back of a big enough spot in the parking lot, my dick is hard enough to drill for oil.

  I reach down to give it a quick rub through my jeans before I jump down out of the open driver’s door into the sweltering Lubbock heat rising off the asphalt. For a second, I re-think my uniform flannel but there’s no time to get into the trailer and change.

  I need to find her.

  I’m hell bent on getting inside that building where I saw her disappear. Lucky for me, there is a set of doors leading inside from the back-parking lot.

  Don’t. She’s barely legal. Maybe not even barely.

  I twist my neck and knock the thought out of my head.

  I have no choice. I have to follow her. Something drives me by primal instinct to find her.

  How many seconds did I look at her? Five? Ten tops?

  It feels like a lifetime. Every sway and curve is burned into my brain. The way she dressed in those oversized khaki boy pants. The blue button-down oxford shirt that matched those eyes. She may have been dressed like a boy, but there’s nothing but woman about her. Soft, and supple. Skin so light I wanted to shield her from the rays of the sun lest they cause any damage.

  But, damn. Those eyes.

  Ginger hair. Wild like an untamed animal with such blue fucking eyes that I want to swim in them. She’s tiny, but round down low and I can’t stop thinking about what that ass would look like resting on my forehead while my mouth takes hours lapping at what is probably a smooth babygirl cunt. Listening to her sweet voice cum while she calls me Daddy.

  Perv.

  Fuck, I don’t care. I’ve lost my fucking mind. I grip the door handle so hard my knuckles crack. I’m at a half run down the elegant marble of the mezzanine, my head flipping back and forth, desperately seeking that fiery red hair.

  There’s a trendy hair salon on the left. I press my face against the glass, ignoring the disgusted looks I get from the other side. That’s a no go. Next there’s an insurance office, then a nail salon, I’m pretty sure she’s not in there so I go to my next best bet which is the coffee shop on the opposite side of the hall.

  I burst through the doors of The Proving Grounds like there’s a fire to be put out, which there fucking is. My balls are ready to seize up and let loose right here. Fuck, if she’s underage I’ll wait. It will kill me, but I’ll do it.

  I’ll find out where she lives and stalk her ass for as long as it takes for her to turn eighteen, then I’ll fucking steal her if necessary. Stuff her in the back of my truck and take her into the woods and make her mine. We’ll live off the land until I’ve got her belly round with me and she realizes I’m never letting her go.

  I’ve lost my fucking mind. I’m thinking of kidnapping some girl I don’t even know. Breeding her and fucking her until the only thing she knows for sure is that I’m going to fuck her again.

  I clear my throat and cough. I’m just trying to bring back my rational self; I know he’s in here somewhere. I narrow my eyes as I look over the crowd.

  The place is full of the pretty people. It’s all handmade suits and stilettos. A few dudes that are prettier than most of the women sit at a table by the window, all skinny jeans and gallons of hair product in their salon-cut hair.

  I scan the tables but she’s not there. I stand to my full height to see over the line of people and my heart seizes. I catch the slightest glimpse of that hair and my next breath catches in my throat.

  “Excuse me.” I shoulder around some folks standing in my way and through others. I won’t get to her through the line, so I’m going around. It’s faster and to tell the truth, I don’t like touching people all that much. This is the less populated route.

  She’s pulling her shoulder to her ear as I come around a big column and get as close as I can without throwing a couple of guys on their cell phones and their table across the room.

  I consider it for a moment, but then I catch sight of two girls standing behind her. They’re snickering and I can smell shit from a mile away.

  And they are a hell of a lot closer than that.

  One with blond hair bites her bottom lip with a smirking smile as the other one taps my girl on the shoulder.

  “Hi, uh, what’s your name again?” Both the girls behind her giggle but nothing’s fucking funny.

  “Dahlia.” She mutters, barely turning to face them as she steps one foot onto her other and pulls herself tight.

  “Ah, right, Dahleeeyah” They mispronounce her name with another giggle and the little brunette points down at my girl’s fine ass, but I can see it’s not because they are admiring her.

  She’s perfect, tiny but with a lower half that has my mouth watering and my dick doing everything it can to get at her. But these two overly coiffed bitches are not giving me the warm fuzzies.

  Blondie taps her on the shoulder again and for the first time in my life, I consider hitting a woman.

  “Didn’t you ask Tyler Templeton to the senior prom last year?”

  Dahlia barely nods as the line moves forward. Her cheeks are turning hot pink and my fists ball at my sides.

  Brunette pipes up. “You know, they’re having a sale. At the Plus Size Rack in Nordstrom’s. We just left there, thought maybe you would want to know. Some good deals. Nothing for us, but you might find some—”

  I’m done. I don’t apologize as I push past the table in my way, almost knocking the one suit on his phone out of his chair. But when he looks up to see who just bumped him, he decides to let it go.

  Good fucking idea. I’m nobody’s choice for a fight when I’m in a good mood, and right now there’s not a fucking good thing about what’s going on under my usual grumpy façade.

  “Hey.” I shift between the two cats and Dahlia, draping my arm around her shoulder.

  I look down and give her a quick wink, hoping she’s going to get on board fast with what’s about to happen.

  I feel her body tighten, so I speak quickly, turning to the two behind me.

  “Hey, you know, they’re having a sale at the ‘don’t be a cunt’ market down the street. I think you two should go check it out.” I pull Dahlia into me, tucking her under my arm as I give the other two a look that should tell them in no uncertain terms I mean business.

  They squint at me for a second, unsure what’s just happened, so I clear it up for them fast.

  “I’m thinking you might want to go. Now.” I sneer, then turn and lean down a bit to Dahlia. “You okay, sweetheart? I’m so sorry I’m late. A lot of assholes in this town. They slowed me down.”

  When I turn my head, the two bitches are working their way out of the line, then out the front door.

  My balls twitch as her scent grabs me and doesn’t let go.

  “Who are you?” She twists to look up at me but still doesn’t pull away.

  She’s more beautiful up close, and for a second I doubt she could ever be attracted or interested in an old, ugly fuck like me. For a moment, I wonder if she’s got a boyfriend and rage fills me. I’d do more than kill him, I’d hurt him in extraordinary ways, then I’d kill him. That thought only makes me harder, fighting for her in some way turns me on even more.

  “Miss?”

  The line moves forward and the chirpy barista waves Dahlia to the counter. I step with her, unwilling to disconnect my arm from her shoulder, and when I see her lips turn upward at the corners as I move in time with her steps, the first optimism about her potentially considering me in a romantic way has me standing taller.

  “What would you like?” I ask, giving her a little squeeze as I reach to my back pocket for my wallet.

  “Uh...” She licks her lips, then let’s loose. That’s my girl. “I’d like the Killer Deep Dark Caff, Extra Large, black. Double cup.”

  I lift two fingers from her shoulder with a nod toward the gal behind the register, then I set my wallet on the counter and hold it open
.

  “Can you pull out a twenty?” I ask Dahlia, finding it an impossible thought to take my arm from around her and figuring out quickly that taking money out of your wallet with one hand isn’t easy.

  She pauses, then reaches over with the cutest fucking little fingers and pulls out the bill from the stack swelling my wallet. I’m a cash sort of guy. I do have a credit card, just never use it.

  The next few seconds, as we wait, I stand proud, looking over the crowd to be sure no other fucks are looking at her. I’m bigger than anyone else in here, so I notice several sets of eyes flicking my way, then away. I’m clearly not their usual customer, with my worn flannel, my unruly hair and muddy boots.

  “Thank you.” Her soft voice floats upward, grabbing my heart and holding fast.

  I look down, trying to decipher if she is in fact speaking to me. Her deep blue eyes dilate as I meet them with mine and she gives me the smallest of smiles, her right cheek dimpling slightly.

  “For?”

  “Well, you paid for the coffee.” Her full lips pout a bit before she continues. “And, for what you did. With them. The girls. They went to my high school. I’ve been a hobby of theirs since third grade. Ain’t easy growing up with this hair. Or these freckles. Not where I come from, where everyone looks like they sprouted from Barbie Doll seeds.”

  I snort at the visual.

  “People are stupid. Girls can suck. They can’t hold a candle to you. I’ll take your hair and those freckles a million times before I’d look twice at either of them.”

  The server slides our two coffees across the counter and it pains me, but I take my arm from her shoulders to take a cup in each hand, then start to make my way toward a table that’s open by the window.

  “Well, thanks anyway. I’m sure you have better things to do with your day.”

  There’s a hint of self-consciousness in her voice. I’m not sure if she’s afraid I’m going to sit down with her, or afraid I won’t.

  “I’ve got precisely zero things more important to do with my day than sit here with you. You meeting anyone? You have something else to do? Some other place to go right now?”

  She shakes her head with a soft bite into her bottom lip, and I set the two cups down on the table, then shift over to pull her chair out and nod for her to sit.

  “No. I’m just waiting for my ride to come back. It will be awhile.” Her wistful tone tells me she’s none too thrilled with either waiting for her ride or the ride itself, and I make a note to delve into what that means.

  For some reason, anything that doesn’t make her smile or make her life better feels like my duty to rectify. Weird as fuck, but this growing sense of possessiveness over her is here to stay. I look around again, catch some middle-aged suit staring at her ass as she turns to sit and I puff up, giving him the death stare. He quickly finds the top of the table in front of him compelling and only then do I turn and sit my ass down in the chair across from her.

  “Where you going?” I manage, though it feels like I have to force every word from my throat.

  “Uh...” She looks at me with confusion. “I’m sitting right here.”

  “No.” I grunt. I suck at small talk, but I want to keep her talking. I want to keep her here.

  No, what I want is to clear the table between us and sit her ass in front of me, tear those khaki pants off and shove my nose into her cunt.

  “I’m sorry.” On a deep breath, I try to form a clear thought. The poor girl looks like she’s about to bolt and I can’t say I blame her. “I mean, you said you’re waiting for a ride. Where are you going?”

  Her shoulders sink a bit, and that instinct to protect her rises again. I read her body language. I’m acutely focused on her, like I’ve never been on another human before. Every muscle movement, every flinch and breath registers information and I log it, wondering how I can make her life better.

  “It’s just, well... my dad. He’s coming back to pick me up.” She pauses, bobbing her head back and forth. Her eyes are downcast, and her lips pull into a forced smile. “I’m going to have my engagement ring sized.”

  The words tear my heart from my chest, throw it onto the ground and bash it into a pulp with a baseball bat. Is she not fucking old enough to drive, but she’s old enough to be engaged? Is this a fucked up arranged marriage or what?

  “You’re engaged?” Even as the words leave my lips, my brain is telling me to calm down. “How old are you?”

  My blood pressure rises, the sound of each heart beat pounding in my ears. My questions come out more brusque than I intend, but my anger is rising. Not at her, never at her—at whoever the fuck thinks she belongs to them.

  Because she fucking doesn’t.

  “Yeah.” She’s not acting like she’s happy about it and that makes two of us. “I’m nineteen. I know I look young. Everyone says that. Anyway...” Her cheeks brighten deep pink, her eyes giving away a veiled sadness as she flutters her eyelashes, and I swear I see her fighting back tears.

  That sweet forced smile again makes me want to hurt someone. Something is not right here and every cell in my body tells me whatever this ‘engagement’ is, I’m going to do everything in my power to undo it.

  Without a thought, my hand darts out to cover both of hers. My enormous, rough mitt engulfing her soft tiny hands, but I see a twinkle in her eye at the touch.

  “I’m not an old creep.” I manage, sure that this beautiful young girl thinks I’m just an old pervert. Which I guess I am, but my perving is dedicated to her and her alone. In fact, I haven’t perved over a girl...I mean woman...in longer than I can even remember. No woman has made me hard in fucking years. And right now, I’m pretty friggin’ happy about that because my dick belongs to her. If she’ll have it. If she’ll have me.

  “You’re a young creep then?” She giggles and it sparks an upward jerk in my already painfully hard cock.

  “No, I’m old. Just not a creep.”

  Her eyes light up, and I swear I nearly come in my pants. “You never told me your name.”

  Before I can answer, a young man with a bleached blond faux hawk shouts over the dim of the busy coffee shop from behind the counter.

  “Um, if anyone in here has a red Ford F-350 with a huge trailer...you’re about to get towed.”

  “Fuck.” I bite out, giving her hands a squeeze. “That’s me. Stay here. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  I don’t want to leave. An agonized groan releases from me as I stand, nearly knocking the tiny café chair over with the force of my movement.

  “Okay.” She nods.

  “Because I’m coming right back.”

  I bolt out the back doors, the wall of pervasive heat nearly knocking me backwards after the chill of the air conditioning inside the building. But I’m at a dead run before the wrecker hooks up to the front of my truck.

  “Here.” I stuff my hand in my back pocket, retrieving my wallet and jerking out a wad of twenties. “Take this. I’m moving it right now.”

  The tow truck driver rolls his eyes. “I got a call, you’re in a no parking zone.”

  “Listen.” I’m in no mood for negotiations. “You and I both know, as long as you’re not hooked up I’m still free to move my fucking truck. I just gave you probably a hundred bucks, just so you will move the hell out of my way fast. I need to get back inside, so get yourself back in your truck, back it up so I can pull out of here and get this moved. We both go away happy.”

  With another annoyed groan, he does as I say, sticking the wad of cash down in his front pocket as he steps back to his truck, then gets in and pulls away.

  “Fuck me running.” I say as I throw myself behind the wheel of my Ford, pull away and scan the area for a place to park.

  My phone rings and I look at the number and groan. It’s the company. Slang for the people writing the checks at the drill site, so I reluctantly accept the call as I drive out of the parking lot in search of a place to re-park and get my ass back to Dahlia.

  “
Davis here.” I half spit it out.

  “When are you getting to the site?” Leroy Marshall is the company asshole and he and I have a track record of not seeing eye to eye. “They’re dropping off the new boring bits. Thought they wouldn’t be there until tomorrow, but the truck is on the road. Will be there in four hours. You need to be there when they drop, Davis, no excuses.”

  Fucking hell.

  “Not my fucking problem, Marshall.” I know it is, but fuck I don’t care right now. My mind is for once not on the drill, it’s on her.

  “Oh, it’s not? Well then paying you isn’t my fucking problem. And the rest of your contracts for this year aren’t going to be my problem either. Hell, fuck it, all those minions that seem to think you hung the damn moon? Well they can go find a new company too. All y’all can just find new paychecks.”

  God, he’s an ass. Fuck! I’m half tempted to tell him to go for it, but most of these boys I’ve got working for me, they can’t go without a paycheck. I’ve brought most of them on myself and I run a tight show, but they toe the line. Would be shitty of me to leave them all hanging in the wind.

  “I’ll be there. Now don’t fucking talk to me for a week unless it’s an emergency, you got that? You let me run my rig and you stay out of my fucking way.”

  I click off. Pleasantries have never been necessary between Leroy and myself, and we have an understanding. I get the damn work done, usually ahead of schedule and under budget, and he leaves me the hell alone.

  It takes me a good five minutes and two blocks away, but I find an open, empty parking lot and my lungs are burning as I hit the front door to The Proving Grounds.

  I’m swearing under my breath as I step inside. Knowing I’m already a half hour behind schedule to get to the rig in four, but I have to get her number. I have to tell her my name and make sure she knows I’ll be back for her and I’m going to call her every day. Ten fucking times a day, until I can see her again.