Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
He holds out his hands. “And do what?” He glances over his shoulder. “Got access to as much free pussy as a man needs. A roof over my head. Hit up the diner when I need to eat. Life is good, money man.”
Talk about no bullshit. “I guess when you put it that way.”
“I’ll be working the door.” Malik lifts his chin. “Night’s about to get started.”
A few hours later I’m reconsidering all my life choices that landed me in this poorly lit nightmare with the horrible soundtrack.
Rav has mostly been behaving himself. He and I are standing in the back corner of the club where we have a good view of the floor.
“Who’s that?” Rav nudges Malik’s shoulder.
Christ, what now?
I follow his line of sight to a pretty Black girl with long braids, spinning around the pole. Flashes of blue and green from her costume catch the light with every rotation.
Rav’s practically drooling on himself.
For fuck’s sake. “Don’t you dare harass the dancers,” I warn.
Malik smirks at me as if that’s a lost cause where Rav’s concerned. “She’s one of Loco’s girls. Off-limits.”
“Christ, Malik, you might as well have laid down a challenge,” I mutter.
“That’s Desna.” Malik casts a smirk at Rav. “She’ll chew your skinny white ass up.”
I reach out and slap Rav’s cheek. “Close your mouth.”
“Look at that ass…those thighs,” Rav mumbles. “I wanna wear ’em like a scarf.”
“That’s…weird.” I flick my gaze to Malik, but he’s now focused on one of the customers sitting at a table next to the stage.
“Excuse me,” he says without throwing us a glance. He storms over to the guy, wrapping one big meaty hand around the man’s wrist. With the pulsing music, I can’t make out the conversation.
“We’re supposed to be here to control the crowd,” I say to Rav. “Stop eye-fucking the dancers.”
He jerks his head toward the stage. “She can’t even see me all the way back here.”
“Thank fuck for small favors.” I shift my gaze to Malik, confirming he has his situation handled. Should I go back him up? Or will he be insulted?
“Stand here and look scary” isn’t always the most helpful job description.
While Malik twists the guy’s arm behind his back and frog-marches him to the exit, I catch another customer grabbing a girl’s ass cheek as she walks by him.
“Motherfucker,” I grumble, pushing toward the handsy asshole.
“Let’s fuck him up,” Rav shouts behind me.
The music drowns out most of what he said but a few customers scramble to get out of our way.
I catch up to the girl. Even in her stripper heels, she barely reaches my chest. “You all right?”
She nods quickly then scowls. “He almost knocked me on my ass.”
“Go on. I’ll take care of him.”
“Thanks.” She saunters to the next table. The suited man eyes me before acknowledging her presence with a polite nod.
Good. Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself.
Now to deliver that message to the groper.
Guy must be dense as fuck or just not paying attention. He reaches for another girl. His stubby little fingers graze her thigh as she passes.
I shackle my hand around his wrist, snapping his arm up in the air, lifting him out of his chair.
“What part of no touching is confusing?” I shout in his face.
“Huh?” His blank expression take a few seconds to catch up to what’s happening. Crystal Ball can’t legally serve alcohol but that doesn’t stop patrons from getting wasted before they come into the club. If they’re obviously intoxicated, whoever’s manning the door should turn them away, but some slip through.
I squeeze his wrist harder.
“Okay, okay. Sorry.”
I throw his ass back into his chair. “The only thing I want to see that hand doing is waving dollar bills.”
He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket. “Okay. Okay, I got money. See?” He shoves the stack of ones toward my face.
“Good.” I lean down so we’re almost nose to nose. He rears away, but runs into Ravage, who’s leaning over the back of the chair. “I will break whatever part of you I see touch another girl, are we clear?”
He swallows hard. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. His gaze drops to my cut, quickly scanning my flash. People like him pretend outlaw bikers are a cute fairy tale—until they actually cross paths with one.
“I hear you, bro.” He nods to my cut. “I ride too.”
I bend his wrist to an awkward, painful angle. “I ain’t your bro.” I release him so fast, he rocks sideways.
Ravage squeezes the guy’s shoulder—hard. “You don’t want to go home to your wife and explain how your fingers got broken, right?”
“R-right.”
“Good.” Rav pats his shoulder.
Now that he’s been sufficiently warned, the girls working the floor feel safe enough to swarm over to him.
Rav and I step back, leaning against the wall that runs to the hallway backstage. Someone propped open the exit door and a crowd of nervous young women are milling around, while Lexi talks to each one, marking down information on her clipboard.