Free Out of the Ashes by Anne Malcom

touching her fingers to her lips like an Italian does after a good meal, since she made the accompanying sound. I didn’t disagree though; our movie snacks were the shit.
    Luckily, the dimming of the lights and the glowing of the screen silenced any further conversation. I expected to finally relax. The darkness of the theater masked any filthy looks directed my way and the need for silence hampered me from saying anything stupid. But as soon as those mother effing lights dimmed, something happened. The air turned charged with so much sexual tension I doubted you could cut it with a chainsaw. I clutched my drink so tightly I worried for a second it might explode everywhere. I tried to move in my seat, but that only seemed to make me more aware of Zane beside me. I could even smell the manly mix of tobacco and his own musky scent. I tried to hold my breath. Not because he smelled bad, but because he smelled so good. I then realized I couldn’t hold my breath for two hours, so I let it all out on a loud exhale.
    For once in my life, I wished, no prayed, Toretto and his crew would get their mission done and dusted in a jiffy, no funny business.
     

     
    He was having a bad day. Not that any of his days in the past four years could ever have been classified as good . In fact, most could be described as fuckin’ horrific. Like the days he planned his own death. The days he tried to force himself to work up the courage to eat a bullet. Then the days after that, when his best friend made it his mission to make sure he never had that particular meal. So this day couldn’t be classed as the worst, but it was pretty fucking bad. All because of the blonde bitch living across the street from him. The one who haunted his fucking dreams. The one who made his cock get half hard just thinking about her. Listening to her chattering away to her daughter about stupid shit while he changed her tire made him calm. Made his mind silent. His mind was never fuckin’ silent. But there it was, listening to them argue about some fucking actor and stupid fucking movies, it was like they were gone. The demons. Until they weren’t. That was dangerous. Blonde hair, amazing fuckin’ tits, beautiful fuckin’ eyes. Made him forget. He wanted her. But she was good. Innocent. Had a kid. Kid was fuckin’ good. Even more, innocent. Nice. Not even afraid of him. Friendly, acted like she thought he was worth talking to. He didn’t even know why he did it. Gave them his name. The name only a handful of living people knew. The name only one person had called him. The person who was the light of his life until he got her extinguished. He didn’t do good around good people. Nice people. Innocents. Which was why he didn’t talk to them. Didn’t talk to anyone, really. But that day, and every day after it, his mind was on her. Mia. Which distracted him. Thinking ‘bout her. Her tits. Tight little ass. Rosebud mouth that her teeth chewed when she was nervous. Which was when she was around him. He knew it. But she was still funny. Still spoke to him, gazed at him with those ocean blue eyes he couldn’t get out of his fuckin’ head. Therefore, his head was full of shit it shouldn’t be full of.
    So his day was fucking bad. Hence why he was sitting in the clubhouse bar, pouring his first whisky and it was barely noon. As he had been for the past week.
    “Jesus fucking Christ, would you look at that,” Gage, one of his brothers whistled. His head was near pressed to the window, which gave a view of the forecourt. “Sweet as fuck piece just walked in,” he paused. “Fuck, Lucky’s already pounced, the slimy fuck.” He seemed genuinely sad.
    Bull inwardly shook his head. Gage was a loose cannon. Days like today he was lighthearted, all about pussy and joking. Then other days, when the occasion called for it, the fucker turned. Something he’d never witnessed. Everything left his eyes; he became cold, ruthless. The joker was gone. A killer remained. He