“Things I’ve never done with anyone else before,” he continued.
Sasha turned to face Vinny, catching a hint of puppy love behind his electric blue eyes. “You can file all those things away in your spank-bank, ‘cause it’s never happening again.”
“C’mon. I know you had a good time.”
Vinny’s hand landed on Sasha’s thigh, and she shoved it away. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”
“Damn.” Vinny lit a cigarette, hurling glares between puffs. “If you don’t want to be with me, why’d you fuck me?”
Sasha shrunk into her worn cloth seat, as far away as possible. “I was lonely. I wanted hands on me. It didn’t matter whose they were.”
“Ouch.” Vinny flicked his ashes out the window, staring at the road ahead.
Hurt spanned his face, and a weight tugged on Sasha’s heart. The urge to comfort him drew her hand out. A pothole rocked the cab, and she pulled back.
“Gimme your skin,” she said, reaching into the back compartment.
“Why?”
Sasha held up a mini sewing kit. “I’m gonna sew your patch on.”
“I don’t get you.” In rough yanks, Vinny pulled off his coat. “At all.” He delivered a harsh glare along with his jacket.
Her hands went straight to work, but the stitches couldn’t mend the rift that now lay between them. “You need this patch on when we get there or we’ll both get shot.”
“You don’t have a patch.”
“Everybody knows me. I’ve done this run a million times.”
“Whatever. Just tell me when to turn.”
That bitter fringe in Vinny’s voice, the stiff edge that cut the air…more reasons she hated herself for fucking her best friend.
“My plan,” Sasha said meekly, without glancing up, “was to treat you like shit to keep from leading you on. I didn’t want you to know I had a good time last night. I didn’t want you to think we were…”
“That’s a stupid plan.” Vinny’s tense body loosened, a hint of a smile lifting his cheeks.
“I like what we have. I really don’t wanna fuck it up.”
“Tell me about this run,” he said, his tone, look, mood, all back to the normal, chilled Vinny mode.
“It’s a seven-hour trek south to Gulfport. We park at a dock and wait for the boat from Cancun. You give the Mexicans the briefcase, and they load the trailer. One hundred pounds on a pick-up.”
“Oh shit! Really?”
“Yep.” Sasha glanced across the cab between throwing stitches, Vinny’s eyes growing wider each time. “So if you ever get pulled over on the way back, you better have your finger on the trigger. The weed’s stuffed in teddy bears and crated up, but you never know. Sometimes the fuzz is just another biker-douche in disguise. That’s how they got Mad Dog.”
“I didn’t bring a gun.”
Sasha dropped her hands, the needle piercing leather. “You went on a run without packing proper?” She lifted the flap of her jacket, the butt of a gun strapped into her holster. “I got ya this time, but—”
“This time?”
“Yeah. You’ll be ridin’ solo soon, so pay attention, especially when we deal with Felix.”
“Where’s the other truck going?” Vinny asked.
“They’re doing a drop-off. They took the red truck, that’s ten pounds, to our buyer in Chicago. I’ll go with you on drop-offs until everyone’s comfortable. They’re always more intense than pick-ups.” Sasha looped the thread, pulled tight, and snipped the end.
“There you go.” Sunlight shined off the runners badge as she held up the jacket. “A patched member of Ashby Trucking. You should be proud. I’m…proud of you.”
After dropping the coat in Vinny’s lap, Sasha wrapped her fingers around the wheel. “Put it on.”
Slowly, Vinny released his control over the eighteen-wheeler. He slithered into his second skin and pulled the collar snug against his neck. He rested his palm atop Sasha’s hand, and his gaze fell to her for a split second.
Sasha slid from his grasp, moving back into her seat. It wasn’t Vinny acting different. He always pawed at her, flashed playful grins, proposed lewd acts. It was her. Sometime between last night and this morning, she forgot how to be cool. Sasha spun toward her window. She’d give herself twenty minutes to get her mojo back before she started faking it.
***
Dez
“You guys are pretty serious about this Sasha bullshit, huh?” Dez asked, although it was a stupid question. It only took him one glance to see the fire in her stare, which burned so bright it made him want to follow it to the ends of the Earth.
Kev shifted into ninth gear, stepping on the gas. “Sasha’s a lot different since Ellen had you and the guys…”
“Teach her a lesson.”
“Yeah.” Kev rubbed the side of his neck, his nose scrunching. “I guess. I still don’t know what she did. It must’ve been major to earn a beat down like that.”
“I’m not telling you,” Dez mumbled from behind the flame of his zippo, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
“Nah, that’s cool. I’m just saying, you got sent away the next day so you don’t know what it was like for her.”
Dez sat back, dropping his glare. He knew the aftermath of a beat down, received plenty as a child, though he never thought he’d deliver one to a child. The day one of Sasha’s bones cracked under his boot haunted him. It would always haunt him.
“She had a broken jaw,” Kev rambled on, as if chatting about the features on a new Ford pickup and not the damage Dez inflicted on a little girl. “Her one eye was swelled shut for days, and she had this limp, still happens when it’s rainy, but Ellen wouldn’t let Sasha see a doctor or rest. The next day, Ellen had her mopping the clubhouse floor. The girl couldn’t even stand. It was—”
“I don’t think this is what Ellen meant by getting me caught up.”
“Oh shit.” Kev looked at Dez, grimacing. “Sorry, that’s a total downer. You probably wanna hear about all the hot tail running around the clubhouse these days.”
“Fuck, finally. Now you’ve got my attention.”
***
Sasha
Sasha peered in the side mirror of the big rig, scooting to the edge of her seat. “Cut the lights. Pull up to the dock and kill the engine.”
Gravel crunched under the weight of a creeping semi. The engine clunked, its rumble giving way to a chorus of cicadas.
“Now what?” Vinny asked.
A grin swept Sasha’s lips. The shake in Vinny’s voice reminded her of the first time they boosted a car together, eight years ago. It was kind of cute.
“Now, we wait.” She stared out the windshield at the last sliver of sun, setting fast beyond shaggy trees. “Keep one eye on the gulf, the other on your mirrors.”
Sasha tucked her jacket behind her holster, glancing around. “This is private property. Cops don’t come this deep into the swamp, so if you hear anything strange out here—”