Bobcat (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 2)

by Candace Blevins

  “Right, and the MC can take the hit, but I’m not sure the girls can. If we stop them, I think we have to offer to let them make it up at the spa. If they choose not to, that’s fine, but at least we’ve made the offer.” Mad Dog met my gaze. “We’ll have to deal with turnover if some of them want to go to work for the spa. We can probably tell them they don’t have a job at the spa if they don’t work at least three nights a week at Blaze until they can find and train a replacement.”

  “What are our options for changing things up?” I asked. “Can we do something to throw LEO off?”

  Mad Dog sighed. “They know the girls are turning tricks, but they can’t prove it. We thwart their undercover people, so it’s entrapment if they make it out the side door with a girl. Same with the spa — cops end up getting an actual massage from a licensed therapist when they try to make an appointment. Former DAs stopped hassling us because they always lost and it fucked with their percentages. If the new chick has a hard-on for sex-work and wants to go after us, she can create big headaches until she gives up. Theoretically, with the amount of traffic between Blaze and the hotel, McKnight worries they might convince a judge to shut us down, even if they don’t have enough to make charges for prostitution stick. She’s pretty sure she could get it overturned, but we’d likely be closed while it made its way to the higher court.”

  “We can get around things a little by not accepting any new customers at the spa for a few weeks,” Squatch told us. “No one gets on the premises without an appointment, and we’re a mile from the road, so they can’t spy on what’s happening unless they get an undercover operative in.” He shrugged and told me, “If they storm the gates, we have time for the girls to rearrange their customers so it looks like legit spa activity. Your dancers have a signal in the hotel so no one’s caught in the act, but it’s harder to explain away why they’re in the room with a customer from next door.”

  I knew all this, but I appreciated the reminder. I’d come down to take a look at how their spa worked a few years earlier, but we were too close to a busy street to be able to copy their business model. The motel worked fine for us, but we couldn’t put in a BDSM dungeon on the premises.

  No one said anything, and Mad Dog asked if we needed more discussion. When no one responded, he said, “Okay. If Tess strongly advises we curtail the dancers taking johns next door for thirty to sixty days, do ya’ll want to vote the answer now, or trust me to make a decision based on our conversation, or call a meeting to vote it?”

  He went around the table and everyone was fine with him making the decision based on their conversation, with a vote to confirm it the following week. Next, he asked if we should give the dancers the option of working some shifts at the spa, and everyone was for it. I got a vote both times, since we were deciding something about Blaze.

  Mad Dog leaned back in his chair. “Next order of business. Gear’s certificate to bartend came through, so he’ll be helping out at Blaze on the weekends. Orange Crush will be here Thursday, and he’ll start working the door at Blaze this weekend. The prospect will move to the restaurant. Khan is still due to arrive Saturday, and he’ll start at the spa Tuesday.”

  Mad Dog took a breath. “McGyver has offered to come down and help on and off for three to six months. His Blueberry will be back and forth between Birmingham and New York, and he’ll want some days off when she’s here, but will work twelve-plus hour days when she’s gone. Do we need to vote on this? Is anyone opposed to him coming down to help in the control room?”

  No one said anything, and Mad Dog tapped the gavel and moved on.

  I’d talked to Duke the day before, and proxied my vote for the things he intended to bring up. If they needed me to break a tie for an unplanned vote, they’d call Velvet, Mad Dog’s ol’lady, and she’d come get me.

  So, when she knocked on the door, I assumed that was the problem. Turns out, the popo was outside, wanting to talk to us.

  Two plainclothes detectives with their badges looped over their pants in clear sight stood near the door, and four uniformed officers stood ten feet back. Watchful. In Chattanooga, the detectives would’ve either gone to the restaurant and asked to see us, and we’d have walked across, or they’d have called first to see if they could come onto the lot to talk. The uniforms backing them up wouldn’t have been necessary. I breathed in, analyzing scents. The detectives were human. One of the uniforms was a Pack wolf, the others were human.

  Mad Dog greeted the detectives by name, his expression and voice neutral.

  “We’re sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, but we need to check an alibi for one of your employees. Can you confirm the hours Natalie James worked last night?”

  It took my mind a few moments to remember this was Kitty’s legal name. My first instinct was that they were going to try to find out where she was when she went next door. Mad Dog looked to me, which meant he was going to let me answer.

  “I’m sure you’re aware we were raided by your SWAT team, so they’ll be able to give her a better alibi than me. Kitty was scheduled for eight to four, but she came in at six.” We allow the dancers to work longer hours Thursday through Saturday if they want, but we rarely schedule them for longer than eight hours.

  “And she was on the premises the entire time?”

  I shrugged. “She had breaks. The dancers bring snacks to eat backstage so they don’t have to clock out to go eat. We allow food in the dressing room, or some of them go to the vending area at the hotel next door to get food, but none go farther than that. I can’t say whether she went next door to eat or stayed in the dressing room, but she didn’t go farther.”

  “What’s she being accused of?” Mad Dog asked.

  “She hasn’t been arrested. We’re merely ruling people out at this time.”

  “Ruling her out for what?” I asked.

  “Thank you for your time,” the other detective told us. “We’ll let you get back to your Sunday morning.”

  We watched them pull out of the lot, and the second we were back inside, Mad Dog called Tess. He told her about our visit, and ended with, “This falls under your retainer. They might use this to try to poke into where she was when she went next door on her break.”

  Tess assured him she’d see what was happening and, if necessary, take a trip to make sure Kitty wasn’t being hassled.

  We returned to the conference room, and I told them, “I realize our options are limited while in a temporary clubhouse, but we need better soundproofing. Better privacy measures.”

  The windows had anti-eavesdropping technology on them. Basically, a tiny speaker on each pane, each vibrating at a slightly different frequency. Trying to listen through them with electronic devices would give someone a horrible headache. We also closed the light-blocking curtains and pulled the shades. No one could see inside, and theoretically, no one could hear inside. Shadow — the head geek in Atlanta — assured me nothing local LEO had would penetrate, and the Feebies didn’t have time to mess with us right now. Still, I wasn’t comfortable admitting to a crime in this room. No way around it, though. The club had voted it was secure enough, so this was where they were holding church. As a temporary member, I attended church here and proxied votes in Chattanooga. Who’d known there were special rules the charters followed after a ‘breakdown in civilization?’ The charter presidents had, and likely the VPs. I didn’t think anyone else had known about them, though.

  Mad Dog had handed his phone to Velvet, his ol’lady, so she could answer if Tess called back before we finished church. I couldn’t ever imagine trusting a woman with my unlocked phone, but those two were closer than close. We were all thankful Velvet had survived. There was a chance Mad Dog would’ve gone beast and never come back if she’d died.

  The rest of the chapter was single, and the sweetbutts were all well-used. In truth, we needed double the amount we had, but that isn’t something you can recruit for.

  I didn’t get a vote in the rest of the business — whether to ac
knowledge three men as more than hang-arounds, and whether to cut one of the prospects loose.

  They did, however, ask my opinion during the deliberation portion, and I agreed the prospect in question wasn’t RTMC material. They wanted him because he had an accounting degree and their moneyman had been killed in the war, but this particular werewolf wasn’t fitting in. The vote was close, but they voted him out, and I thought it was for the best. We have a few people in Chattanooga with full time jobs outside the club, and who only help out with patrol, or work part time in our various enterprises, but this guy was different. He needed to be in an RC, not an MC. Riding clubs are purely focused on riding, where motorcycle clubs tend to be more of a family.

  When church was over, Velvet was waiting in the main room. She kissed Mad Dog and gave him his phone back. “Tess said someone in Kitty’s apartment complex was murdered in the parking lot, near the dumpster. They’re questioning everyone. She doesn’t figure they’re checking everyone’s alibi though. She’s on top of it, and says there shouldn’t be a reason to worry.”

  “Any excuse to question the evil bikers.” Mad Dog put his phone in his pocket, clearly unhappy. “Tess asked for a meet with us, to talk about the new DA, and whether we need to make some changes until we figure out her agenda. Everyone good with 4:00 at the spa?” He looked at me. “We need you, too.”

  “I’m there. I need a few minutes with you and Squatch before the meet. Now works for me.”

  He motioned to his office, and I followed him in. Squatch closed the door behind us and leaned against it.

  This room had been soundproofed as well, but I still turned some music on before I told them, “Tess hit on me last night. Nothing’s happened yet, but we kind of agreed something is going to. She’s interested in me because she knows I’m not here permanently. It won’t be a relationship, but it feels like the sex might get intense. We’ll keep it private so she doesn’t get dinged for ethics violations. Just wanted to let ya’ll know.”

  Mad Dog crossed his arms and was quiet long enough, I thought he might tell me not to. Finally, he shrugged. “Don’t fuck with the relationship we have with her. Neither cats or mongooses are monogamous, so it’ll probably be fine. Let me know if things get serious. Otherwise, have fun.”

  “You’re good with the girls,” Squatch said. “I was worried, after the first night. Thought you’d fucked up enough you couldn’t recover after you belted Soul. But the one-on-one talks, and the way you back them up on the floor...” He uncrossed his arms and shrugged. “They see you as both protector and enforcer. There’s still drama, and I know you hear it, but they’re mostly workin’ it out for themselves.”

  “The humans think we have the entire place wired, and the shifters know how we can hear them, so yeah, I hear some, but probably not much. They tend to shut it down pretty fast. The new girls are catching the hang of how to deal with the customers. Soul and Trinity are scheduled to come in early a few days next week so they can help the newbies come up with a stage routine. I’m assuming they can work through that without being divas.”

  Squatch laughed. “Not usually, but who knows. It could happen. The newbies have to split tips with them on the days they get help. Soul and Jade don’t need the extra income, but they don’t want shitty dancers on stage, so they work them hard. There’s lots of resentment and angry words, but I think you’re going to have to just let them work through it. It seems to be part of the female teaching process.”

  “Why aren’t you managing them? You’ve been a huge help, but you have the knowledge to do it.”

  He shook his head. “I need to rotate between businesses. Keep an eye on everything. I can and will step in and handle it for a few nights when necessary, but I shouldn’t be the one in charge long term.”

  I looked to Mad Dog, and he laughed. “He filled in some before you came and hated it. If he’d known he could take his belt to them when they get out of order, he might’ve actually been okay. But, like he said, as Sergeant-at-Arms, it’s best he rotates everywhere. Plus, it means he can step in anywhere when a manager’s out.” He shifted his weight and gave a crooked smile. “Gears is looking forward to helping ya’ll now that his paperwork’s finally in order.”

  “Another bartender will be a huge help. I’ve tried to step back there and help when Bindi and Atlas are slammed, but...” I shook my head. I had no business trying to be a bartender.

  Chapter Eight

  Bobcat

  Didn’t matter it was thirty-five degrees, we rode to the spa on our bikes. It was a beautiful, sunshiny winter day, and we’re shapeshifters.

  We arrived ten minutes early so we could turn the lights on and bring the heat up, and Tess walked into the lobby right on time. She was in jeans and a tight little sweater with a silk scarf looped around her throat, and I had to take a breath to keep my dick from going hard.

  “I told Kitty to set her phone to remind her to text me every two hours to let me know she’s good. If I don’t hear from her, I’ll try to call her. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll assume she’s been taken in for questioning, and I’ll take a drive and see what’s up. She knows to ask for me, but some of the asshole cops aren’t backing off when a suspect invokes. Their frustration levels are high. I get it, but that doesn’t make it right.”

  Honestly, I understood it as well. The cops were having a hard time regaining the upper hand on the populace. The rioting and looting had given a certain segment of society the idea they could fight back against the police.

  I like to think the club’s illegal moneymaking enterprises are victimless. It’s true we break the law, but we aren’t stealing from old people, and we only kill people who need to die.

  Okay, so that last bit doesn’t sound good, but it’s the truth.

  “Any chance we can call a truce with LEO?” I asked. “It isn’t perfect in Chattanooga, but we help blue out when we can – back them up on the streets when they’re up against drug dealers and losing, and we keep drugs out of our territory. I know we don’t have the manpower to do much here, but...” I shrugged. “They need help. No doubt about it.”

  “They’ve never wanted our help before,” said Mad Dog, “but I’m not opposed to sitting down with the brass.”

  “No.” Tess shook her head. “If ya’ll see an officer in need of assistance and can help, then do, but only if you can set someone to video the exchange to protect yourselves. And always remember, anything you tell them will be used against you, even if you’re helping them.”

  “Fair enough. What do you want us to know about the new DA?” Mad Dog asked her.

  “She inherited a caseload she’ll never be able to successfully prosecute. She’s only bringing the cases she can’t lose to court, and dropping the rest. The bitch is taking a beating on social media from the victims who aren’t getting justice, and the way around that is to change the narrative. We don’t want that change to be sex workers.”

  We made our way to a downstairs break room — this level couldn’t be surveilled upon from outside. Mad Dog made sure there were no listening devices, and we got started. After an hour of discussion and debate, we agreed to limit the dancers to one john a night, and only during one of their scheduled breaks. They’d be able to take an undocumented quick break in the dressing room later. The girls would be given the option of working extra shifts at the spa.

  By the time we broke up, the spa was open for the day, and the employees had everything under control. Mad Dog went upstairs to supervise, everyone else left, and it was just Tess and me.

  “I reserved one of the dungeon rooms, if you’re interested.”

  She lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

  “If you walk in there of your own volition, you’re agreeing you want me to overpower you. If you want a safeword, say the word, but that wasn’t the impression I got.”

  She pulled her phone out and called Kitty. “I won’t be available for a few hours, so you don’t have to text until I let you know I’m back.
If you need me, call this number and one of my associates will answer, and he’ll take care of you exactly as I would.” She disconnected, called someone to let them know they were getting her calls, and then opened an app and made it happen.

  “If you decide we can call each other,” she told me, “you’ll get a personal number that doesn’t forward. If you ever need to call me and you get someone else, they can help you with anything legal.” She took a breath and looked down a second before meeting my gaze again. “I have a change of clothes in my car. Don’t worry about fucking these up, though if you do, you’ll have to retrieve the ones in my car once we’re finished. Which room?”

  “Purple.”

  The dungeon room walls were all painted black, but each was trimmed with a different color — purple, red, and blue.

  The spa rooms used for sex have a futon and a massage table. The girl puts the sheet on the futon mattress before they start, and takes it off when they finish. Laundry chutes in the rooms send towels and sheets to a downstairs laundry.

  There’s nothing in the normal spa area that screams sex. For a raid, the sheet is tossed in the laundry chute, the futon is folded into a sofa, and the customer moves to the massage table. The girls are put through a drill once a month and they can all handle it in less than a minute. Practicing with established customers says we need a window of two and a half minutes to be safe, but since LEO has to get through the gates before they can take the long drive to the spa, the girls have time.

  However, the dungeon rooms have whips, cuffs, gags, and other BDSM tools of the trade. The items in the dungeon can all be sanitized, so the whips aren’t real leather, the butt plugs are either glass or stainless, the paddles aren’t wooden, the blindfolds are cloth, and the cuffs are made of the same fabric as a seat belt. A sterilizing dishwasher keeps everything clean.