Porter (Dirty Misfits MC Book 2)

Gazing into Porter’s eyes made my knees feel like jello. Feeling his body heat radiating against me made me feel as if I were back in high school with a crush on the quarterback. His eyes held that same brooding stare that captivated me back when we were younger. His muscles were ripe for the taking, bulging against his faded leather jacket. And as the minty smell of his breath pulsed against my face, I found myself yearning for a stolen kiss.

But instead, I took a step back and cleared my throat.

“Uh, you want to tackle the upstairs and I’ll start down here?” I asked.

Porter cleared his throat, too, and it made me wonder if he had felt the same tension I did. “Yeah, yeah. Just tell me where shit used to be, and I’ll figure it out from there.”

I pointed to the ceiling. “Go up the stairs and you’ll be staring at a closet. Last I remembered, it held all the clean bed sheets as well as cleaning products.”

With a nod of his head, he turned to leave, giving me an eyeful of his tight, perky ass. I cocked my head to the side and licked my lips, watching as his long legs languidly strode out of the kitchen. My God, Porter was a handsome man. I mean he’d always been handsome, but now he was rugged. A bit rougher around the edges. And with that scruff growing out on his face, my thighs tingled with a need that had followed me my entire life.

Plaguing me even in my dreams.

Brooks is gonna kill me.

I forced myself to turn away from Porter’s retreating body and focus on the kitchen before me. It was as if this entire house had been locked into one memory for the past however many years it had been since I’d been home. After Mom died, the estate fell to Brooks’ shoulders, and that was only a few years before he ended up in prison. So, the house had been sitting vacant for at least seven years.

If not, more.

“Ew, gross,” I whispered.

I ran my finger along the raggedy kitchen countertop and the dust that plastered itself against my skin made me gag. This place would need to be cleaned from top to bottom, and some of this shit would need to be replaced. Like the carpet, for starters. I knew the bulk of the smell in this house came from that shit. The residual smell of puke from my mother’s drinking days and the scent of smoke from my father’s incessant chain smoking filled the house with such ugly memories that all I wanted to do was plug my nose and set the damn place on fire.

But if I could convince Brooks to hand the house over to me…

“I’m getting ahead of myself. Just clean first,” I murmured.

I dipped down beneath the kitchen sink and pulled out ancient cleaning products. I prayed they would still work as I sprayed everything in sight and wiped it down, trying not to vomit at the blackened dust that came off with every swipe. I heard Porter lumbering around upstairs, creaking the floorboards above me.

And when I heard him whistle lowly to himself, I made the determination not to go upstairs.

Then, the front door burst open. “Someone miss me?”

Porter called downstairs. “That you, Brooks?”

My brother chuckled. “Of course it’s me. Astrid?”

I continued cleaning the cabinets. “In the kitchen.”

I heard my brother walk in behind me, but I didn’t bother to look at him. “You gonna come give me a hug or something?”

I wiped off the kitchen counter. “You didn’t bother to meet me here. Why the fuck should I give you a hug?”

He sighed. “You know I wanted to be here. But I had to pick Raven up from work and make sure she got home safely. Things have been a bit crazy lately.”

“So I’ve been told.”

His hands came down against my shoulders. “Astrid, please.”

I paused. Out of all the words my brother threw around on a daily basis, “please” wasn’t one of them. And it stopped me in my tracks.

“What?” I asked.

He slowly turned me around and the look in his eye gave me pause. “I really am sorry. It’s why I called Porter to come meet you here. I didn’t want you to be alone but shit really has hit the fan and things aren’t good right now.”

I tilted my head. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

Porter yelled down the stairs. “Just tell her! She might as well know!”

Brooks rolled his eyes, but he didn’t buck back. “Shit’s hit the fan with the Black Flags.”

I rolled my eyes. “You guys are still at it with those losers? For real?”

His hands slid down my arms. “No, you don’t understand. It’s bad. I mean really bad.”

I pulled away from him. “Well, you know those are the shitheads that landed you in jail in the first place. I told you that time and time again.”

“I know you did. And you were right.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Of course I was right! Except no one wants to fucking listen to the stupid younger sister, right?”

“That’s not what I—”

I held up my hand. “I don’t want to hear it. If you’re really willing to take that risk again and chase after some—”

“They’re still coming after us, Astrid!”

His booming voice halted my words. “What?”

He shook his head. “It’s so much to explain, and I don’t have the time or the energy right now. But I’m having to take Raven everywhere so she isn’t attacked again. Or taken.”

I balked. “Raven was taken?”

He nodded slowly. “There’s more drama than you could ever imagine right now. Raven’s life was at risk. She was confronted by those assholes the day I got out of prison. And that’s only the beginning. She was taken days after I got out, and we’ve been chasing down those assholes ever since. They almost killed her, and we’re pretty sure our current president is working with them to take us down.”

I paused for what seemed like forever. “I suppose that explains why you never called.”

He cupped my cheeks. “I would have if lives wouldn’t have been on the line. I’m telling you, Astrid, it’s not safe right now.”

I stepped away. “So, is that why you’re here? Not to help me move in, but to help get me back out of town?”

“I mean I was hoping I could at least—”

I shook my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“What?”

I slammed my cleaning supplies onto the kitchen counter. “You’d rather your own shred of family leave town and never come back instead of just leaving that fucking club altogether to start a life of your own. That’s the rational thing to do in your mind?”

“I can’t leave. Not just yet. Chops is setting up something massive, and I have to fix it before it gets worse for everyone.”

“And why the hell do you have to fix it? Why can’t someone without a rap sheet fix it!?”

Before my brother spoke again, I turned my back to him. The audacity of him never ceased to amaze me, and that little “please” from before—I was convinced, at least—was nothing more than a manipulated attempt to get me to feel bad for him. That was how it had been our entire lives: I was the quiet one who kept to myself and got trampled on and he was the one that made calls for everyone and felt like he had to take the weight of the world onto his shoulders in order to fix shit.

Even if it meant leaving his sister behind in the dust.

“Astrid, I just want—”

I shook my head. “I don’t wanna hear it. You wanna be useful? Pick up a damn rag and start cleaning. You’ve let this place go to hell and back.”

I lost myself in cleaning up the kitchen, but when I looked up Brooks was gone. My eyes welled with tears as I moved to the living room, vacuuming with an old-as-hell vacuum and wiping the windowsills down that were caked with dust and grime. Of course Brooks left. Why wouldn’t he? He was a professional at choosing literally everything else over his own family. Just like he left to escape our alcohol-addicted mother, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

Abandoning us, just like Dad did.

“Like father, like son,” I murmured to myself.

Then, a set of footsteps came down the stairs. “Just me.”

Porter’s voice rang loud and clear, and it pulled me from my trance. “How’s it going up there?”

The front door opened. “Your car unlocked?”

I peeked over at him. “Why?”

His eyes met mine. “I was gonna go get your stuff out of your car. Brooks and I got the biggest room upstairs all cleaned up and situated. Figured I’d put your stuff in there.”

At least he didn’t leave, I guess.

I heard his words, but I couldn’t formulate a response. Why? Well, because the damn man was shirtless, that was why. His chiseled abs dripped with sweat and his swollen pecs moved with the panting of his lungs. I swallowed hard as my eyes slowly made their way back up to his, and I could’ve sworn I saw him smirking.

So, I grinned. “Guess coming back wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

And when he smiled, the world around me ignited with happiness.

At least I’ll always have Porter’s smile.