King Cobra (Hot Rods) Read online

  “King Cobra!” Dave rumbled a hello while two feminine greetings mingled in the background. “Hey Nathmeister, tell Uncle Eli his truck’s running great.”

  “Of course it is. We don’t build shit at Hot Rods.” And Alanso had personally attended to every detail of the project after that night. The night they’d seen how badly Dave’s injury impacted the rest of his crew. The night they’d watched the guys and their female soul mates comfort each other in their friend’s absence.

  “Are you going to pay his speeding tickets too, Cobra?” Kayla sounded half-annoyed, but even the chastisement couldn’t hide her affection for her husband. Not since a freak accident had nearly stolen him from her.

  “I can’t be held responsible for his actions. Though I heartily approve.” His soul lightened in seconds. Tough times are temporary. That’s what he’d always told himself and the rest of the Hot Rods when someone had a bad night.

  “All right, Eli. I’m heading outside.” The ambient sounds got less amplified. “You’re off speaker. What’s up?”

  “Maybe I called to see how you’re doing.” It didn’t seem fair to add to Joe’s burdens.

  “Eh, we’ll be fine. It’s just the joys of parenthood. Thank God for the crew. I don’t know how Mo and I would do this alone. We’re spoiled, I know. Stronger together in the group. But even still it’s a lot sometimes.” Joe paused. “It’s a ton of responsibility to care for another person. An innocent. Seeing Kate and Mike going through the same helps some. Hell, Mike carries all of us on his shoulders sometimes, like you do for your gang. But every once in a while I have to take a step back or I’ll drive myself nuts, you know?”

  “Of course. You worry so much because you love them.” Eli was suddenly glad he’d reached out tonight. He should do it more often. For both their sakes. Why couldn’t the crew live closer? “If you didn’t you wouldn’t deserve them. We both know the world isn’t always perfect. Shitty things happen to good people. Look at Dave.”

  “And your mom,” Joe’s voice was low, but it carried across the two states between them.

  “Yeah.” Eli silently added Alanso to that list as well. He had to make this right.

  “When I think back on that summer—” Joe didn’t need to spell out which one. Eli would remember it for the rest of his life. In grotesque detail. “It’s still not quite real to me. Sort of like a movie. I can see myself, you, your dad. Like zombies. Staggering around, trying to figure out how to make it to the next day and the next. And then the shit with Dave last year… Well, it made me not want to fuck around ever. I tell my family, all of them, how much I love them. Every day. I’m terrified of losing them.”

  “I hear you. The ache never goes away.” Eli rubbed his chest. “But what can you do? Lock yourself out of life to spare yourself the pain?”

  “Personally, I wouldn’t advocate that plan, no.” His cousin bit the statement off.

  “Am I missing something here? We’re talking about you, right?” Narrowing his eyes, Eli stared into the darkness.

  “Not anymore.” A sardonic chuckle rang across the airwaves. “You do realize Alanso’s been videochatting with us a lot—almost every night for the past month now, right? Hell, I think him and James talk more than a couple of teenage girls.”

  “What?” Eli sat up straighter. “Why?”

  “I’d assume because his best fucking friend is making him uncomfortable with sharing too much. Or maybe refuses to discuss certain issues at all. Probably because the one guy he should be able to trust with his insecurities and hopes seems to have forgotten that not everyone gets a tomorrow. And there’s no going back.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Eli’s heart pounded as he took the lashing from his cousin. Sickness washed over him as he recalled the last time he’d seen his mother. Surrounded by flowers from the uncounted people she’d helped in her social work, she’d cautioned him to always lead with his heart before slipping peacefully from the world.

  Would she respect him for keeping his hands off the guy he was closer to than a brother? Or would she shake her head at his callous treatment of another human being? Deep down, he knew the answer. Failing her shredded his insides.

  “Even Kate said she’s disappointed in you, Cobra.” Refusing to pull his punches, Joe let him have it. “Are you that fucking scared?”

  First Sally, now Joe. Screw them. “I’m not—”

  “Yeah, you are.” A snarl from the usually laidback man surprised Eli. When Joe broke their mutual silence, he spoke with a hell of a lot more kindness. Eli might have preferred poison to the pity he sensed now. “You don’t have to lie to me. I was there. I know what it did to you when your mom died. But I’m telling you now, you’re making a mistake. If you don’t fix this, you’ll be saying goodbye to Alanso too.”

  “Fine. I hear you.” The phone trembled in his hold. “I just don’t see how this can work. If I fuck it up, he’ll leave. We won’t have even what we do now. How can I take that chance?”

  “He can’t settle for friends without lying to himself. Hell, to you both. Don’t make him do that. He won’t last. Neither of you will.”

  “But Joe…”

  “What, E?”

  A deep breath delayed his response. “It’s not just Alanso. I want what you have. Fucker.”

  Joe laughed. “I don’t blame you. And I think you’ve got a shot. I remember those stories you told about the wild nights some of the guys have had. They’re open to unconventional. Plus, you know your Hot Rods. Deep in your gut, you understand what they need. I can’t imagine how your pasts affect you individually, let alone together, but I gotta think you wouldn’t have stuck together so long if you didn’t rely on that bond to make it through.”

  “Yeah, the Island of Misfit Mechanics. That’s us. So how the fuck do I deal with seven guys and one chick in some crazy-ass relationship? I’ve never even had a steady girlfriend for Christ’s sake.” He might grow his hair longer just so he could pull it out. He had a feeling he might find the option handy in the coming months.

  “I’d recommend starting slow. Walk before you run and all that shit. Go get Alanso out of that hellhole. Make things right with him. In the crew, it all began with Neil and James. They showed us what we were missing. It didn’t take long to catch on, though. Start the fire, Eli. Let it burn.”

  “Wait.” Hope rose in his soul. “You know where Alanso is?”

  “I might.” Joe laughed. “Depending on if you’re going to keep being a toolbox or not.”

  “You said ‘hellhole’.” No more kidding for Eli. “Is he in trouble? Damn it! Don’t fuck around if he is.”

  “Nothing he can’t handle…probably.” A hint of unease colored Joe’s statement. “Promise you won’t march in there and drag him out just because you think it’s the right thing for him. He didn’t make this decision lightly. You have to support him. As long as he’s not being hurt, you can’t get your tighty-whiteys all in a bunch over his little experiment after you refused to play along.”

  “You mean there’s a chance he is being hurt?” Eli pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck, Joe? You know I’d do anything for my guys. And Mustang Sally. Tell me where he is. I’ll go to him. I’ll…try.”

  “About the best we could hope for, I suppose.” A door shutting was followed by Nathan’s sobs. They’d slowed and muted but hadn’t disappeared entirely. Eli could relate. “Mo, what’s the name of the park I wrote down over there?”

  A park? What the fuck—?

  “Chestnut Grove.” Eli didn’t hesitate. He fired up the engine with a flick of his wrist and slammed the shifter into reverse. “He went to a pick-up spot? Sex with strangers? Jesus.”

  Morgan echoed the name, confirming his fears.

  “Go gentle on him.” Kayla called in the background. “He needs you.”

  “You’ve got this, King Cobra.” Dave added his support.

  “We love you,” Morgan called.

  “And so does Alanso,” Joe added. “Don�
��t let him down tonight.”

  “It’s going to take me at least twenty minutes to get there. He left hours ago. What if I’m too late? What if someone’s taking advantage of him?” Eli fishtailed as he zipped onto the road and gunned it.

  “More likely he’s having a helluva good time.” The smile coloring Joe’s tone faded a bit. “But just in case, maybe you’d better drive it like you stole it.”

  “I got that.” Eli short-shifted into fourth and pressed the pedal to the floor. His Cobra cornered like a champ on the new suspension Kaige had installed last week.

  “Right. So time to hang up. Keep calm, lead with your heart and have fun.” Joe’s smile rang through his tone. “Call us when you can, so we know you’re both all right and we can say we told you so.”

  “Hey, Joe.” His cousin surely expected an insult. “In case this is my last day…I love you too. Thanks.”

  He disconnected the call, tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and watched the speedometer climb.

  Chapter Three

  “You like what you see?”

  Alanso checked over his shoulder to confirm the older Latino dude wearing lots of chains had actually intended for him to answer. He thought he’d lurked far enough in the shadows to escape notice.

  Maybe he’d made a sound when a couple of the younger guys milling around had approached, scuffling for the honor of kneeling at the man’s feet. Each guy offered his mouth to give the bear one hell of a lube job.

  Gracious, the guy welcomed them both. With a hand on each of their heads, he drew them closer to his crotch even as he smiled at Alanso.

  “Yeah. I’m talking to you, baldy.” His laugh held a bit of an edge. “You know it’s pitchblack out here. You can lose the pretty sunglasses. Unless you’re famous and wandered into ’Nut Grove by accident. Afraid people’ll recognize you?”

  Alanso shook his head.

  “You aren’t married, are you? I don’t screw around on people’s promises. You’ll find some here that do if that’s your thing. Somebody for everybody pretty much. Not us, though.”

  “Nah. Nothing like that.” Alanso peeled his shades off and tucked one of the arms into the V of his white T-shirt. He liked the way his tattoos showed through the thin cotton. Each inked symbol helped keep him focused on a life motto, lent him strength or illustrated a badge of courage he’d earned.

  He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the R on his right index finger—part of the Hot Rods label he’d indelibly inscribed on his body. A car drove across his left pinky followed by one letter on each finger, a permanent reminder of the group that had imprinted themselves on his soul.

  Tonight, for the first time in over a decade, he embarked on a journey without one of his garagemates. He frowned and rubbed the marking faster.

  He’d survived some rough times before stumbling across Eli and his dad at the youth center. As a child he’d drifted from couch to couch owned by gracious members of his Cuban-American extended family until he realized how he burdened families with enough mouths of their own to feed. After that, he’d survived on the streets in gangs of transient teens—most of them orphaned by deported parents—not so different from himself. Except that crime didn’t appeal to him as a profession.

  Still, he hadn’t had to watch his own back in long enough that he felt soft. But he could hold his own. The knife in his pocket was a last resort kind of insurance. His brawling skills would probably render the precaution unnecessary.

  “Quit biting that lip and get your sexy culo over here. Phil and Ronnie will make room for you, won’t you, boys?” The top knocked his boot into the sides of their knees, urging them apart.

  The guys must have liked the way the ringleader’s cock tasted because they didn’t stop licking it long enough to complain about sharing the adequate, but not overly impressive, hard-on. Alanso imagined they were as desperate as he was, waiting for their bimonthly clandestine fix.

  He’d heard rumors about this place and the things that happened on a random night every couple of weeks. Luck had been in his favor when he’d overheard some guys passing the news of the next date while he’d used a bar bathroom a few days ago. Adrenaline had run rampant through his system since. Could he go through with a visit?

  Excitement and a little bit of terror had left him no choice but to check it out. He worried this could become a habit.

  He had every kind of intimacy with the Hot Rods he could want—love, laughter, shared pain, pride in their workmanship. All but one. Sexual. He couldn’t do without that final gear anymore. Riding shotgun while they stalked women had quit being fun when he admitted to himself that none of the garage bunnies who threw themselves at Middletown’s infamous bad boys stacked up to Sally. And that was even before his eyes had opened to other possibilities.

  Hopeless ones.

  King Cobra would never let him risk their friendship—his and Eli’s, their and Sally’s or the various combinations of the larger group—on a romp. Despite the fact that some of the guys had teamed up before, it’d always been a fling, nothing serious. Definitely not a relationship like the crew had built. That was risky. If something went wrong it could tear them apart. So he stalled.

  As much as Alanso wanted both Eli and Sally, he couldn’t stop dreaming about the complex polyamorous relationship he’d witnessed thriving in the crew. And if he couldn’t have that unbound wild love with his gang, he at least had to know if his recent distaste for a night of no-strings fucking had to do with the gender of his mattress buddies.

  So why couldn’t he force his boots to unglue from the matted grass?

  “I’m not sure sharing is my thing.” Liar! His brain shouted at him, knowing full well that if the trio on display before him were Cobra, Kaige and Bryce—or any other combination of Hot Rods—he’d skid across the mostly cleared area beneath the makeshift pavilion like a World Series player stealing home.

  “Trying to play it cool, are you?” The man jerked his chin in Alanso’s direction. “I can spot that bulge from here, even in this shitty light. Impressive for a Mexican.”

  “Pendejo, I’m Cuban.” Alanso tried to keep from letting this fucker get his hackles up. That wasn’t the part of either of them he cared to rouse tonight.

  “No kidding.” The guy rolled his eyes. “Your accent is pretty distinct. My grandmother’s from Matanzas. But I did get you to come closer, didn’t I?”

  “I don’t have an accent.” He tipped his head.

  One of the guys—Ronnie, he thought—still sucking away, choked, as if on a laugh.

  Alanso glared at him.

  “Hey now. We’re an equal opportunity kind of gathering here.” The guy smiled a bit, his face starting to relax as the men teasing him proved they were good at what they did. Maybe they’d teach Alanso a thing or two. “Come on, kid. I’m not going to last forever. Take what you want. At least let me get a better look at you while I cream their faces.”

  The top grunted. The guys at his feet braced his thighs.

  Alanso swallowed hard and glanced away.

  White Christmas lights decorated the stand of trees that sheltered like-minded men who had nowhere else to turn for what they needed. It was almost romantic and utterly heartbreaking simultaneously. He wished his first intentional male-on-male experience could have happened somewhere he felt more comfortable.

  Like maybe Eli’s desk in the garage office or up against a stack of tires.

  He didn’t count the day he’d actually touched the person he wanted most. Okay, fine, one of the people. Damn Joe and the crew for poisoning his brain with dirty possibilities. They’d guaranteed he was unsatisfied with anything short of a tender gangbang. Meanwhile, Eli had obviously been too shocked to listen to his better fucking judgment in the heat of the moment, but he’d snapped into shape as soon as they’d hit the highway toward home. Refusing to talk about what’d happened, he had slammed the door on any relapses.

  At least Alanso had experienced heaven once. The memory of Eli’s
moans—and the heat of his come pouring over the Hot Rods tattoos on Alanso’s knuckles—would fill his mind as he fooled around with another man tonight. His imagination was strong enough to superimpose the crucial details over his make-do experience.

  Vivid enough they’d drive him to ecstasy or at least action.

  Going home without having taken his bisexuality for a test drive was not an option. Sure, he liked fooling around with women plenty. But now that he admitted to himself he’d always been kind of curious about men, he felt like he’d starved that part of him for far too long. The pussy he’d scored since the eye-opening round with the crew just hadn’t satisfied him.

  The urge to fuck—to be fucked—had grown in him until it hurt.

  And Eli hadn’t been there to take away the ache this time.

  No more.

  But he could use some help getting started. He hadn’t dared stop for a fortifying drink. Not when he was riding his motorcycle, and definitely not when he was flying solo over new territory. “Look, I—uh, I’ve mostly never done this before.”

  “Sure you haven’t.” The guy snorted. “It’s been my first time every other week for the last decade too.”

  So long in a meaningless cycle. Why hadn’t this guy found a lover? One he could take in the light of day? Was Alanso doomed to hiding in the shadows if he did this tonight? No, it was just a trial. A way to find out what he really wanted before he gambled with bigger stakes.

  “I thought I could watch this time around.” And if it got him hot enough, maybe he’d do a little taste testing of his own.

  “Sorry, kid. That’s not how it works. No play, no stay.” The veteran shrugged somewhat apologetically. “Otherwise, how do we know you’re not going to narc on us? Or take incriminating pictures or some shit? Get dirty like we do or go back to momma.”

  “That puta left me behind years ago.” He slipped his fingers through his belt loops to keep from stroking the tattoo of her on his shoulder. “Kicked out of the country. Sent back to Havana. Couldn’t be bothered to lug a brat with her.”