by Ravenna Tate
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2017 Ravenna Tate
ISBN: 978-1-77339-417-6
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To Sam Crescent. Thank you so much for your encouragement to write this series, for answering questions about MC Romance, for reading my first attempts, and for your continued support.
GORGON’S VENGEANCE
Demons on Wheels, 2
Ravenna Tate
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Chloe Dolan, known to the Brothers of the Demons on Wheels MC as Legs, stretched her arms overhead as she warmed up for her first set at Scotty’s Place, the strip club that the MC owned and operated. “Isn’t it wonderful news about Rai? She won’t lose her company after all.”
“Yeah, she will actually.” Billy Westfall, President of the MC, whose road name was Gorgon, stepped behind Legs and wrapped his large hands around her breasts. As always, the gesture made her giggle. “The FBI took it over, and one of her former attorneys has filed a court petition to become the trustee.”
Chloe didn’t completely understand what that meant, but she also couldn’t think very well with Gorgon squeezing her boobs. “That feels nice.”
“Yeah, they do feel nice.” He rolled her nipples through the mesh leotard she wore. “They always feel nice.”
“What’s a trustee?”
“Someone who handles the business end of things while there’s ongoing litigation or a federal investigation.”
“You’re so smart.”
Gorgon nuzzled her neck. “So are you, Legs. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”
He always made her believe it, and not only because he was twelve years older. It was the way he said it, as if he’d spoken a universal truth. But when he wasn’t whispering it in her ear, or when she spoke with others, Chloe reverted to her default self image. Dense, tall blonde who loved sex and could dance on a stage like no one’s business.
“I’m on in two minutes.”
They were in the back hallways, behind the club itself. Some of the other dancers used one of the offices to warm up, but Chloe liked to be closer to the club so she could see and hear the patrons before going on. She liked to size up her crowd for the night.
“I know when you’re on.” He removed his hands, but walked in front of her, blocking her view of the club, and grasped her hair. “And I know when you’re turned on.” He used her ponytail to pull her face up to his for a quick kiss, tongue and all.
Chloe moaned softly into Gorgon’s open mouth. She’d been there for a year, and for the past six months, she and Gorgon had been fucking almost every day. Recently, he’d asked her to be his old lady, and of course she’d agreed to. Gorgon had both intimidated and intrigued her, right from the start, and it hadn’t taken her long to fall under his spell.
When he released her mouth, he stayed in front of her.
“Is Rai really going to work for Donny instead?” she asked. Chloe was afraid of Donny Messina, the Mob boss who protected their club, and who had recently reached an understanding with another Mob boss, Vito Cinquepalmi.
Vito had been caught making a deal with one of the companies that Donny already owned. Vito had also put a hit out on Rai when she’d refused to become his partner, which was how she’d ended up living here.
“Do you really want to talk about Rai right before you go on?” Gorgon slid two fingers between Chloe’s legs, slipping them underneath the thin fabric to tease her clit. She gasped before moaning softly. “Yeah. I didn’t think so.”
“I care about what happens to her.”
“I know you do.”
Rai Parente had been there less than two weeks, but she and Chloe were already close friends. She also had recently agreed to be Tannin’s old lady.
“You’re right.” She placed her hand over his so he’d keep rubbing her. She loved to go on stage aroused and wet. It ramped up her performance. “I don’t want to talk about her. I want to fuck you.”
“You always want to fuck me.”
“Complaining?”
“Yeah. Right.” As Chloe was announced inside the club, Gorgon pulled his fingers from underneath her costume and stepped aside, waving a hand. “Your loyal subjects await. Knock ‘em dead, Legs.”
The one place where Chloe let go completely was on the stage in this club. She’d begun dancing as a fill-in for a woman they’d fired, after they’d caught her stealing money from the club. Chloe hadn’t had a clue what to do up there her first night, but it hadn’t mattered.
Since that performance, during which she’d totally winged it, her popularity as one of the featured acts in the club had grown, to the point she was now one of only a few dancers who did two sets a night on Fridays and Saturdays. Chloe loved the attention because it was safe. The stage was in the center of the club, surrounded on all sides by the curving bar, with one small blind spot that housed the sound booth.
Two patched Brothers guarded the steps to the stage, so there was no way anyone would get up there without their say-so. The crowd couldn’t reach her, but they had a nearly unencumbered view of her up there from every spot in the club.
The heavy bass beat of Kiss’s “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” began, and Chloe launched into one of her favorite routines. She preferred faster songs with uncomplicated chord changes and repetitive lyrics. They made it easier for her to choreograph her movements to the drum beats and the chorus, which in turn led to a smoother performance.
Some of the dancers preferred slower, smoky songs that reminded Chloe of old burlesque movies she’d watched, but Chloe didn’t believe her body or her dancing style were suited to those routines. She preferred to move around the stage and use all three poles.
She’d spent hours studying videos of eighties’ aerobic dance routines, and listening to music to pick out the bass lines and percussion. Gorgon had installed a mirror on one entire wall of her bedroom. Now, she mostly used that room as a studio where she tried out new routines in privacy, before rehearsing on stage during the hours the club wasn’t open to the public.
The pole dancing had taken more courage than skill to master, though she still couldn’t climb as high as she wanted to. She complained about her lack of upper body strength being a contributing factor, although Gorgon said he didn’t like girls who had overly-developed muscles. He always told her he loved her body just the way it was, and the paying customers certainly liked the way she looked.
On the edge of the stage at three spots were oversized brandy snifters where customers put their tips. A prospect watched each one to make sure money went in instead of came out, and after each performance, the money was given directly to the dancer.
There was no tip sharing at the club. The Brothers believed if a dancer was better or more popular, she should be rewarded for it. Chloe had made over thirty thousand dollars in three months, between her salary and tips. It was more than any of the other dancers had made in the same time frame. It also meant she was envied by some, but she wasn’t worried. Gorgon protected her, and she held her own when someone got
bitchy.
As she ran and grabbed the nearest pole to twirl around it, one leg out straight behind her and the other up alongside her body, to give the crowd a nice crotch shot, the cheers became deafening.
She’d chosen this outfit because it shimmered in the spotlights, but when she moved, the shadows in the fabric gave quick impressions that she was stark naked. Chloe heard more catcalls and whistles when she wore this one than when she wore any other. Some of the girls did a striptease as part of the routine, ending up totally nude by the end, but Chloe liked to tease them. She never gave them everything. It was sexier that way.
When the song ended, she ran into the sound booth for a quick drink of water before coming back out to dance to Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion”. The beat was a bit slower, but she usually danced her second song of a set that way on purpose. The last thing she ever wanted to do was appear winded on stage.
This one gave her the chance to show off her acrobatic skills, as well as do slower moves on the pole that didn’t involve as much aerial work. They still loved it. The rush of all that cheering and calling her name was like a drug to Chloe. The more they did it, the more she needed it.
But her last song was the one that sent them running up to the stage, dropping money into the snifters like mad. “Legs”, by ZZ Top, was her signature song. She had not only been dubbed Legs by the Brothers because she had long ones, but it was her stage name as well.
Chloe made the most of her body during this song, and by the end of it, her face usually hurt from smiling so much. But the adoration of the crowd, plus the money, was worth it. One day, she’d have to stop dancing, and then she would use all that money to get a college education. She had no idea what to major in, but it was important to her to try, at least.
At the end of her last song each set, Chloe walked around the stage for a couple of minutes, bowing and waving. They had set up the schedule with at least twenty minutes between dancers, so doing this never took time away from the next girl waiting in the wings.
As she crossed the stage at the north end of the club one final time, she caught sight of a man who stopped her dead in her tracks. Dear God. No. It can’t be… Chloe’s pulse raced, and her hands trembled. Horrible images from her past flashed through her mind, paralyzing her. She wanted to move away, but her body wouldn’t do what her brain was screaming.
The noise from the crowd faded as the man stared at her, a hard, cold look in his eyes and a smirk on his face, while she tried to deny what her senses told her was true. A long, jagged scar ran down the left side of his face, the result of a broken beer bottle he’d been cut with during a fight at age sixteen.
He was gaunter than she remembered, and his eyes had that crazed, high on crack or something similar look. He hadn’t done drugs very often when she knew him, but he’d been gone nearly a year. A lot can happen to a person in a year.
There was no point in denying it was him. Because it was so distinctive, that damn scar cemented what her mind didn’t want to believe.
She had to tell Gorgon. Move, dammit! Move!
But by the time her feet finally shuffled forward, the man was gone. Chloe whipped her head around, searching for any sign of him, but there were none. Had she hallucinated him?
No. He’d been there. She’d stake her life on it.
Gorgon climbed the stairs, his rugged face filled with worry. She practically ran into his arms. “Get me out of here. Please,” she whispered.
“What is it, baby? What happened? You froze up there.”
Chloe glanced around. She didn’t want anyone else to hear this. “I swear I just saw Brad.”
At first, Gorgon was confused. But as soon as he understood who Chloe meant, his face turned red, and he was ready to commit murder. “Brad Harding?” he hissed. “Your ex-boyfriend? The one who almost killed you?”
Chloe nodded because her mouth had gone bone dry.
“Tell me everything you saw.”
Chapter Two
Gorgon led Legs to the room the Brothers used for church each week. No one was in there, which he had expected. As soon as he closed the door, she burst into tears, and he pulled her into his arms. This leggy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty was the absolute love of his life, and he had yet to keep her safe from her past. It killed him that he still could not accomplish that.
“It’s okay, baby. Tell me what you saw.” Brad had moved to California after he’d found Legs at the club, about three months after he’d put her in the hospital. She’d been too afraid to even file a retraining order against him. If the bastard was back in Ohio, Gorgon and his Brothers would find him and bust him up for good.
“I saw him. I know I did. But then he was gone.”
“Okay. Give me details, Chloe. So we can find him. Like, what was he wearing?”
“A green polo shirt. Like moss green. And jeans, maybe. I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
“It’s fine, baby. Dis his face look the same as the last time you saw him? No beard or mustache?”
“No. He looked the same. He still has that scar on his face. But he’s thinner. He looked high.”
“Did he do drugs when you were with him?”
“A little bit only.”
“So he’s thinner now?”
“Yes. Gaunt looking. His eyes were wild.”
“We need to do a better job of checking IDs at the fucking door.”
She glanced up at him and wiped her face. “Do you really think that matters? I’m sure he has a fake one. There are open arrest warrants waiting for him here.”
What she said was true. He was wanted in three Ohio cities for breaking and entering, plus grand theft. If the guy had come back, he had balls. Or the drugs were fucking with what little common sense he’d had to begin with.
“Do you want me to have someone else do your second set later?”
“Yes.”
Gorgon pulled her close again. Legs never gave up work. She’d danced once while she had the flu. She was really shaken up, but what the fuck could he do? She’d been so damn afraid when she first came here that she’d refused to let them ask Donny to find Brad.
“I’ll have Honey go on for you later. She hasn’t danced much the past couple of weeks.”
Honey was their name for a dancer named Natalie. She helped behind the bar part-time, but anyone could fill in for her long enough to let her dance a set.
“And it’s time to talk to Donny,” said Gorgon.
“No…”
Gorgon believed Legs was more afraid of the Mob boss who protected them than she was of her ex. He and his Brothers were the first men she’d ever trusted, and it had taken a while to get her that far.
But he wasn’t about to hang back and let that fucker waltz in here as if he had a right to, or harass his old lady. She meant everything to him. Gorgon wanted no one else for the rest of his life. She was the one.
“Why not? One call and you’d never have to worry about Brad again.”
She bit her lip, and the terror in those big baby blues broke his heart. “I’m afraid of Donny.”
“What? Chloe, baby, you’re part of this MC. He protects all of us, but he doesn’t fuck our women, and he’d never hurt one of us unless we betrayed him.”
The indecision on her face was unsettling. “What aren’t you telling me, baby?”
“Nikki said something to me…”
“Oh, well that explains it.” Gorgon couldn’t stand Nikki, whom they called Tarot because she read the cards. She was a sweetbutt who was popular with most of the members and the prospects because she was as easy as they came.
But she was also the first to pick fights with the other women, and despite the fact that Tannin had zero interest in fucking her again, she continued to openly flirt with him. Even after Tannin had asked Rai to be his old lady, Tarot hadn’t given up. It was time to let her go, but Gorgon knew he’d get flak from most of the patched members if he brought it up again.
“She heard it straight from
Connie, so I don’t think it was a lie.”
Gorgon resisted the urge to smile. Legs believed everything those women told her. He didn’t want to undermine her, but he’d bet the chrome on his bike that whatever Tarot had cooked up, it was bullshit.
“What exactly did Tarot tell you that Connie said?”
“Because Donny offered Rai a job working for him, Tannin has to share her with him.”
There was no way to hold back the laughter now, even though Legs would be hurt by it. “Sweetie, I assure you, there is no fucking way on this earth that Tannin is sharing his old lady with Donny. He wouldn’t share her with anyone. Hell, he claimed her the first hour she was here.”
“But Donny is more powerful than you, even. He could make Tannin do it, and he could even make you do it.”
“Donny is an old-fashioned, Italian, Catholic altar boy. He adores his wife. He’d cut off an arm before he’d cheat on her. Tarot is just messing with you. I’m betting if we asked Connie, she’d deny she ever said that.”
She was so stricken that Gorgon was tempted to go find Creamy, as Connie was known, just to prove to Legs that Tarot had lied to her. Either way, he was bringing up the issue of Tarot in church again this week. It was time to get the bitch out of here. She fucked with the others’ heads too much, and she lived to stir shit up.
“Why do people lie to me?”
“People lie. It’s a fact of life.”
“I don’t.”
He kissed her. “That’s because you’re one of the good ones. Not enough of you left.”
“Rai is good. She’d never lie to me.”
“No, she wouldn’t. Come on. Let’s find Honey and ask her to take your second set.”
“I don’t want to go back into the club tonight.”
“You and Rai can hang out together. How does that sound?”
