Targeting Dart (Satan's Devils MC #4)

by Manda Mellett

  “Well, which is it? Husband or ex?” I ask for clarification, a little impatiently.

  “Husband, unfortunately. I have good grounds for divorce, that won’t be a problem, but I don’t want him to find out where I am, so I’ve not yet started proceedings.”

  There’s normally few reasons why a woman doesn’t want to be found. I go for the most common. “He hit ya?” She’s so tiny, well, in stature, the rest of her is quite large. But even so, for a man to raise his fists to someone as little as her? The thought makes me angry.

  There’s a flare in her eyes as she replies, her hand going to her cheek. “Only the once.”

  But, good girl. So many women hangaround, lapping up the excuses until they’re too broken to run, or end up dead. That she only let him hurt her just one time shows she’s got backbone. Looking closely, I notice while it’s somewhat disguised by the dark skin and makeup, she’s got some scarring. I’m incensed on her behalf.

  “To be honest,” I realise she hasn’t finished, “we’d been married six years and that was enough for us both. I believe he’ll be glad I’ve gone, but…”

  “You’re not takin’ any chances.”

  Gratefully, she nods at Blade.

  “You got a place to stay?” I’m not sure why I’m asking. It must be the fact she’s so petite that brings out my protective instinct.

  She smiles—the expression transforming her face, revealing she’s really quite pretty—and nods. “Yes, with my sister and her husband.”

  “The girl you were with last night.” I’m glad she’s got family looking out for her.

  Another nod, but this time the sides of her mouth turn down. “I’m sorry, I suspect that’s who you were expecting. She set this up. Set me up.”

  “But you need work, and a job off the books.” Blade looks at me, and lifts his chin. It seems he’s taken a liking to this little pixie, and fuck me if I haven’t too. Perhaps we can find her some waitressing work. We do own the Wheel Inn restaurant, there might be something for her there, where her out-of-proportion figure wouldn’t be such a drawback.

  I decide to be blunt. “Look,” I wave my hand at her. “You’re not really the type we employ here.”

  Before I can finish my sentence, she interrupts, saying forcefully, “You haven’t given me a chance yet to show what I can do.”

  Surprised, not normally used to someone cutting me off, it pulls me up. Part of me wants to teach her a lesson. “So you want to take your clothes off, show us what you got?” I suspect my harsh question will have her running. Berating myself, I wish I hadn’t spoken so sharply. Something about her makes me hope she’ll accept the challenge. While we’ve been talking, I’ve started to see her in a different light, and now I’m intrigued to see what’s under her clothes. She’s not giving away very much at the moment, though she’s wearing skin-tight yoga pants, her chest concealed by an ill-fitting sweatshirt. Though her top’s baggy, it doesn’t hide that she is indeed, as Blade had hoped, stacked.

  She licks her lips. Fuck girl, just stop. I’m amazed as my cock twitches when my attention is drawn to her mouth once more.

  “I don’t want to strip totally naked, I couldn’t do that. But I do want to dance. I’ll show you what I can do, and then you can decide.”

  “You want to dance for us?”

  “Yes, Blade, wasn’t it? Yes, Blade. I do.”

  Her back straightens and a look of determination comes to her face. Blade looks at me and raises his eyebrow. I return his stare. A silent conversation between us of, What could it hurt? A few minutes of our time, that’s all it will take. I only hope I can hold off from busting my gut laughing.

  Reaching inside the purse on her lap, she brings out a disc. “Can you put this on for me, please?”

  At least she’s come organised. Calling Road over, I pass it to him. He looks at the title.

  “Got this on the system already, Dart.”

  “Go cue it up then.” Road knows his way around. Before becoming a prospect he worked here full-time as a bouncer.

  She slides off the stool, a major achievement, but lands surprisingly lightly on her feet. Taking her purse along with her, she ascends the steps to the stage and approaches the pole in the middle.

  “Oh fuck. I don’t know if I can fuckin’ bear to watch.” Blade covers his eyes with his hands, fingers splayed so he can still peer through.

  But my attention has been caught as she rips off her sweatshirt. She’s wearing a tight tank underneath that reveals curves my fingers actually itch to touch. Next, she opens the purse and brings out a couple of items. A spray bottle is one, and she squirts it at the pole, another is a tube of something she squeezes onto her hands. I nudge my brother. “Looks like she at least knows what she’s doin’.”

  “If she falls off, that ass is gonna dent the floor.”

  “Can it!” I growl, for some reason wanting to give her a chance.

  Suddenly the sound of claps and the first beats sound of Enrique Iglesias’ Bailando start to play. Her face splits into a grin as she approaches the pole, her body already swaying to the beat in perfect rhythm. As she takes hold and pulls herself up and performs some sort of cart wheel around the base, the way she’s pointing her toes seems to make her legs look longer. Then she’s hooking her leg around the pole, balancing with just one knee and leaning back and, oh fuck me, her back arched to the floor shows her breasts just begging to be caressed. In an amazing display of flexibility, the moves just keep coming, and all the time she’s keeping to the beat. When I get a glimpse of her face she’s smiling, her eyes flashing. She’s loving this shit.

  I exchange a look with Blade. He’s fucking entranced. She’s doing some serious progressions, she fucking owns that pole. I’ve seen dancers aplenty, more than I care to count, but I can’t remember anyone quite so elegant, and at the same time so fucking sexy. What seemed to weigh her down when she was on the ground appears flattering when she wraps herself around the metal. She might not be naked, but she’s alluring enough as it is.

  Oh, hell. What’s she doing now? She’s off the pole and taking a deep breath, her body still moving to the rhythm though. Is that it? Has she no stamina? She glances across to me, now her smile’s smaller and appears nervous, then her shoulders come back as she seems to come to a decision. Without hesitation, she takes her yoga pants off, and there’s the tank gone. It wasn’t the best striptease I’ve ever seen, but I’ll be fucked if it wasn’t worth it. Now all she’s wearing is a red satin bra and panty set, the colour contrasting well with her dark skin, and revealing the gentle curve of her stomach. She’d feel soft under my hands. And now she’s shimmering up the pole again. Christ, did I say she was sexy? What’s a word that means she’s even more than that?

  She’s back on the pole and I can see more of her now, her muscles rippling, her skin glistening from the effort she’s putting on. How she can keep hold with just one hand, or just her ankles, I’ve no idea. She’s must have a lot of strength, particularly in her arms and thighs. But it’s not her athletic ability that gets to me most. No, it’s that ass and tits, and everything else she’s got. It’s the whole fucking package, and the whole way she’s shimmying and not once missing a beat.

  My jeans get uncomfortable, and I reach down to adjust myself. One glance at Blade and he’s doing the same. He catches me noticing, and sends me a wry look.

  “I’ll be the first to admit I’m wrong, Brother.”

  “Me too, Blade, me fuckin’ too. If we can compromise she’ll wear a thong and pasties and does a striptease as she’s comin’ down that pole, the customers will go wild for her.”

  “She fuckin’ owns it, Brother.”

  I watch her again. She seems lost in her own world. Her lips are curved up in a satisfied smile as she twists and turns, pulls herself up, and lets herself slide again. She’s loving it. She’s not dancing for me, she’s dancing for herself.

  Blade’s right. The patrons would fucking love it.

  Chapter
4

  Alex

  Spraying vodka on the pole to clean it, and then chalk onto my hands, I prepare to dance as though my life depends on it. Which, in essence, it does. I need this job, need money going into the bank so I’m no longer a burden on my sister, and hopefully can start to save up. I can do this. I must.

  The music starts, the beat’s counting me in. I begin to forget everything else and lose myself in my routine, stretching out my legs with my toes pointed, the move my instructor would tell me seemed to lengthen my legs. All the time keeping to the rhythm, I plant the toes of one leg square with the base and hook my knees around the pole, when I arch my back with my head and hands hanging down, knowing I’m making the most of my ample bust in this pose. Now I’m back on the pole, gripping it halfway up and opening my legs gracefully into a V, then keeping my legs out straight, raise them over my head so I’m upside down in the inverted position. I then transition smoothly into the plank, and follow that with one hand above my head and the other in line with my waist, then raising myself up to perform the boomerang spin.

  I feel constricted in my clothes. Normally when I’m on the pole I’m wearing just a leotard. My first thought is that original audience of one, and my memory of Ron watching the video, his face first mocking then twisting in disgust. Now, this time I’m dancing it’s in front of two, no, three bikers if you include the one behind the bar who’s stopped his work to look. Their eyes rapt as they watch. Before my nerves catch up with me, I gracefully dismount and rip off my yoga pants and top, glad I’d had the foresight to wear my best underwear today. Red satin against my black skin.

  Then I’m back on the pole, enjoying the freedom, letting my mind escape as I twist and twirl, my muscles stretching and contracting. I’m completely oblivious to anything else as I lose myself in the dance, unable even to name the positions I move through, lost in the beat of the song. My arms and legs moving, stomach and thighs working to support me in contorted positions, spinning and moving in time with the music. To the floor and back up, posing, then twisting again.

  The music comes to an end. I time it perfectly, sliding down, and end up doing the splits, my head bowed low to the floor. I wait. It’s completely silent. Then the room is filled with the sound of clapping and whistles.

  Embarrassed now to be wearing so little, I pick up my tank and pull it over my head and quickly slip into my pants.

  Ron had complained about my figure, told me to do some exercise. Telling him I’d joined a gym, I let him assume what he wanted, but had taken up pole dancing lessons instead. At first even I thought myself mad, but I soon found my talent. I’d practiced and practiced, and then got my teacher to film me. I’d dressed as sexy as I could, cooked Ron his favourite meal, then hooked up my phone to the TV, hoping my display would have spiced up our non-existent sex life. All he’d said was what an idiot I looked like. How ungainly, and such a joke. He’d bring up his dinner if he watched any more, and other unflattering comments. We never spoke of it again, but without him knowing, I continued to dance. From that point on, just for myself.

  Now I stand rigid, not daring to look. Are they laughing at me too? Their response didn’t suggest it, but they might just be being kind for the short chubby girl who’d given it her all.

  My back is turned toward my small audience, and I’ve tears in my eyes. I couldn’t have done more. Now I should pick up my purse and go home. I start bending to the floor to take hold of it as the sound of heavy motorcycle boots clomps toward me. Not wanting to be hurt by seeing his expression, I don’t turn around.

  “Pasties and a thong. We’ll settle for that. When can you start?”

  My back straightens as I have trouble processing the words. While I never dreamed of ending up working in a strip club, I’m desperate and destitute. This compromise he’s offering of not getting completely naked is one I’m sure I could make. Without turning, disbelieving I’ve passed the audition, trying to stop my voice shaking with excitement, I ask for confirmation. “You’re offering me a job?”

  “Fuck, doll. Never seen anythin’ like that before. Of course I’m offerin’ you a fuckin’ job. Would be out of my fuckin’ head if I didn’t.”

  Now I twist around, my head first, followed by my body. The man called Dart is standing in front of me, admiration shining out from his eyes. And, if I’m not mistaken, the outline of a very stiff dick pushing at the denim of his jeans.

  My lips curve into a small, self-satisfied smile. My moves certainly hadn’t had that effect on my ex. I feel like fist pumping the air, and my mouth widens into a grin. “I’ll agree to the terms. And I can start whenever you like.”

  Dart reaches out his hand and helps me off the stage. “Fuck, woman, where the hell did you learn to dance like that?”

  “Classes,” I explain, my feet on the floor, but I’m strangely reluctant to let go of the biker’s hand. A feeling reciprocated, as he doesn’t drop mine, but leads me back to the bar where Blade is beaming at me.

  “You fuckin’ owned that, darlin’.”

  Nodding at his compliment, I can’t stop myself from smiling. I’m in a strip club run by bikers, and I feel appreciated for the first time in my life. There Ron. Suck that up.

  “It’s what I love doing.” I feel brave enough to try to explain. “I feel weightless and free, as though I’m flying.”

  As though he’s been doing it all his life, Blade puts his strong arms around me and lifts me back onto the stool, this time with no comment about my lack of height. His actions force Dart to let go of my hand, and as I catch a glimpse of his face, I see his mouth tighten.

  “Stop manhandlin’ her, Blade.”

  “Whatcha gonna do, get lower stools?”

  Their interaction makes me laugh. “One with cross bars would help, so I could climb up.”

  “You ain’t gonna be sittin’ at the bar, doll. You’ll come on, do your set, then get the hell back stage.”

  Blade’s eyebrows rise as he glances at Dart, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t think anything of it, just feel relieved. I’ve been given the confirmation that all Dart wants me to do is to dance.

  We spend a few moments talking about wages, and they explain I’ll be able to double that or more with tips. I’m pleased, as it sounds more than sufficient for me to pay back my sister, and, if they’re right about the money that will be thrown on the stage, enough to start a savings account. I’m on cloud nine and can’t wipe the grin off my face.

  Then Dart takes out his wallet and peels off a few bills. “Get somethin’ sexy, doll.” As I glance at him, perplexed, he adds, “You obviously need money, so I’m guessin’ you could do with an advance to get some suitable costumes. You’ll need to incorporate a striptease durin’ your dance. You know how to do that?”

  I offer a guilty nod. Yeah, my teacher had taught me, and I’d done that on the video I’d shown to Ron. My only reward had been a sneer accompanied by gagging sounds. I try to push my ex out of my head. “Will I have access here, during the day? I’ll need to work up some routines, vary it up a bit.”

  Dart’s eyes roam over me, and he widens his stance. “Anytime you want, doll.” He waves around to the cleaners I hadn’t realised were there, so quietly and efficiently doing their job. “As you can see, we have people workin’, so just come in when you want and do your stuff.”

  And will he be here, watching me? The thought makes me shiver.

  We’ve gone through all the necessary arrangements, me, of course, making sure they agreed to that so important cash in hand. Just when I’m about to slide off the stool and make my way out, Dart stops me with a hand to my arm.

  “Your ex. We need to know if he’s gonna cause a problem.”

  I bite my lip, unable to totally reassure them, but doubting it myself. “He doesn’t know where I am. I could be anywhere in the country for all he knows.”

  “Where’s he live, darlin’? Anywhere close?”

  Answering Blade, I shake my head. “Not really, he’s in Sa
n Diego.”

  “But you’re stayin’ with your sister. Surely that’s the first place he’ll look?”

  I raise my chin toward Dart and sigh. I don’t really want to tell them my life story, but I can appreciate why they wouldn’t want a furious ex-husband bursting into the club and causing trouble. “I’m the only one in my family who’s kept in contact with Celine.” I pause to take a deep breath and then let it all out. “When she was eighteen she was raped. Got pregnant. She had an abortion, and my parents threw her out. I was forbidden to stay in touch with her, but I disobeyed their rules. She was held over me as an example of what I shouldn’t do.” And that’s when they pressured me into marrying a man of their choice. A respectable alliance that wouldn’t bring shame on the family. “They don’t know, or care, where she ended up.”

  Blade and Dart seem to have a silent conversation. An eyebrow raised here, a grunt there. But they don’t press further, hopefully having heard enough to satisfy them I’d gotten away cleanly.

  Dart’s hand has remained on my arm, causing a strange tingling sensation. He squeezes his fingers, and what he says next surprises the hell out of me. “You’re workin’ here now, which means you’re under our protection. One sniff of trouble and you come to me, okay?”

  Now that was totally unexpected. I’m not particularly worried about Ron, suspecting he’ll just be pleased that I’m gone, though there’s always the outside chance he’ll want what I brought with me. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as men I don’t know give me the security I didn’t know I even wanted until it was offered. Ron’s got a bad temper. I only allowed him the one chance to get physical with me, but now that he’s started, he might not be able to stop. He was barely able to last time.

  Dart clears his throat. “Club’s open Tuesday through Saturday. You’ll dance every night.”

  Sounds fine to me, gives me a chance to earn more.

  “You can start tomorrow if you want.”

  That gives me the time to sort out some clothes easy to take off, and, of course, a few nice underwear sets. I give an eager nod.