Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC #10) - Lilly Atlas Page 0,49
where he’d been raised. In the years he’d been gone, he hadn’t spoken to his mother, stepfather, or any of the people he’d grown up around. Growing up in a brothel with a mother who cared little for him and didn’t shield him from her dysfunctional lifestyle ensured he had no desire to revisit his past.
Ever.
The urge to ask what set Makenna’s life on its current trajectory grew each time he’d seen her over the past few days, which was often. What could he say? He was a single guy, living with a single roommate. Neither could cook for shit. Visiting the diner for breakfast daily just made sense. He had time to shoot the shit with his brothers and start the day with hot coffee and a delicious meal.
Okay, fine, sometimes he stopped by for lunch, as well.
He was a hungry guy. Had nothing to do with the genuine smile Makenna had for him whenever he walked through the jingling door. Nothing at all. And nothing to do with the way his dick got hard whenever he caught a glimpse of her round ass in those jeans she liked to wear.
True to his word, he acted like a friend; treated her the same he treated his brothers’ ol’ ladies. Only problem was, those women didn’t get him to half chub whenever someone spoke their names. Whatever voodoo magic Mak possessed, it’d fucked something up inside him. He’d turned down three cash offers from bored housewives looking for a good time. Ones willing to compensate him greatly for the privilege of blowing him. Weird, but who the fuck was he to turn down extra cash on top of an orgasm? A man fucked in the head, that’s who he was. All he could think of was Makenna. In the past, sleeping with one woman while wanting another had never been a problem. Actually, it’d been preferable for him to fantasize about a woman he actually wanted to fuck as it got him through banging some pretty unappealing broads. But this hold Makenna had over him wasn’t the same. It wasn’t just the desire to fuck her—which he had in spades, just ask his right hand—but he also wanted to hang out with her, ease her burdens, and make her laugh.
See those cute kids again.
Fucking insane.
“Hey, dude, what the fuck is up with you tonight?”
Thunder jolted then blinked at Maverick, who stood with his tattooed arms crossed over his thin chest. His eyebrow with a barbell through it had risen far into his forehead.
“Sorry, you say something to me?” Thunder asked, as he stretched his arms overhead. Anything to get his blood flowing and mind in the game.
“Yeah, brother, I’ve been talking at you for about three minutes. You’re on another fucking planet.” Maverick propped his hip against the bar and shook his head as Monty offered up a bottle of whiskey. “What gives?”
“No, thanks, Mont. We’re rolling out in a few. And nothin’s up. Just got some shit on my mind.”
Mav cocked his head. “Shit you need the club’s help with?” For someone who typically didn’t speak without making a sexual innuendo, Mav could buckle down and be as serious as fuck when it came to club business.
“Nah, personal shit.” Thunder waved a hand in front of his face. “For real, it’s nothing, brother. Don’t give it a thought. I’m done with the zombie routine.”
For a moment, Maverick remained serious, then a shit-eating grin split his lips. “Personal, huh? That means one thing and one thing only. Pussy troubles. What’s wrong, brother? Couldn’t make the cat purr last night?”
The fuck? “You’re a demented fucker, you know that, right?”
With a snort, Mav nodded. “So Steph tells me every day. Night, too.” He winked. “It’s what she loves most about me.”
Shaking his head, Thunder snorted. “All right, what the fuck’s our game plan for tonight?” He started walking toward a table, but Mav stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“You sure you’re good for this? I need your head in the game. No one will fault you for having your own stress, but if I need to find someone to cover for you, I need to know now because we leave in ten.”
Oh, he was good for it. Dying to get revenge for Viper. Time to table all thoughts of Makenna, his neglected dick, and his fucked-up head. Tonight, the club got one hundred percent of his focus. “I’m straight, Mav. Promise. You got my full attention.”