by Nicole Snow
“Better you hear it from me first than the Prez.”
That got her attention. Her big, bright pearly blues rolled with surprise.
I walked to the bed and sat down next to her, ignoring how she shrank away from me. Took a helluva lot more effort to keep my eyes off her chest, her ass, those long legs I couldn't stop thinking about digging into my ass while I railed her stupid...
Cora let out a long sigh and ran a hand over her face. “Well, what now? Let's get this over with.”
“You need something to do. Last thing the club wants is to keep you cooped up like a damned prisoner.”
She cocked her head. “What? You'll let me go? I thought the whole point of this was to keep me hidden?”
“Keep you away from your house and the old life you knew, fuck yeah. Doesn't mean you're chained to this clubhouse and broke. Prez wants you to get on your feet so you can have a life when all this shit blows over. We've got a job for you.”
She looked at me intently. “I'm not good at mixing drinks and I'm not doing anything illegal.”
Funny. Real fucking funny. I gave the girl my biggest shit-eating grin and grabbed her shoulder, pressing my fingers into a reassuring squeeze.
“Babe, we're not fucking monsters. Your daddy wouldn't have kept himself close to Dust all these years if he thought we were just thugs and killers. We're not asking you to mule for us with grenades stuffed down your panties or some shit.”
“God, you're crude.” She wrinkled her nose. Couldn't help but notice the faint trace of a smile on her little lips, before it melted away.
Little Miss Prude liked it nasty – she just didn't want to admit it. I made a mental note that there'd be a lot more where that came from.
“I don't know what my dad knew anymore,” she whispered. Familiar sadness sucked the color from her face.
Not this shit again. Change the fucking subject, asshole, I told myself.
“You've got good girl written all over you like the ink on my skin, I know it,” I said, sizing her up. “Prez is gonna offer you a job at the Ruby Heel. He wants you to work with Skin's old lady, Meg, on managing business there. Nothing illegal. Nothing crazy. Just good, honest work that'll probably pay you more than that fucking internship.”
“Ruby Heel? That's...” She trailed off when it hit her. “Oh my God. I'm not taking my clothes off for money. I don't care how much it brings in.”
She bolted up, and I went after her, grabbing on her arms. “No, no, no. Nobody's asking you to shake your ass for a buncha horny old buzzards. Don't think anybody's got an arm long enough to pull that stick outta your ass and get you naked for coin. We're asking you to help with the other shit. Business is business, even when it's all about making money on skin. Somebody's gotta handle the logistics.”
For a second, she looked at me like I'd just asked her to hand over her first born. Her hand slipped out of my grip, shot up, and a firecracker exploded across my stubble on one cheek.
“I'll do it, asshole,” she snapped, pulling away from me. “If everything here looks clean and kosher, I'll try. No promises it'll work, but we'll see. Whatever I decide, don't you ever talk to me like I'm some stupid kid who's spent her whole life in libraries. I can handle myself perfectly well in the adult world.”
Fucking shit. I barely stopped my inner asshole from blowing smoke out my nostrils and rolling my eyes.
She'd decided to listen to something sensible. That was fuckin' progress.
“You're right,” I said, letting my eyes roam all over her body, real slow from top to bottom. “You deserve a chance to show me what you're made of.”
“I don't have to impress you. Isn't your President the one who's handling all this? I need to talk to Dust.”
“Something like that, darlin'.” My cheek still burned. That fire radiated all the way down to my dick, making me hard as granite.
This chick was gonna get eaten alive at the skin shop. Didn't have a clue what the fuck Dust or Meg thought they could use her for. The instant she walked through the horny gaggle of truckers, bikers, and civvies shelling out good money to stare at tits all night, she'd get eaten alive.
And that was if the bitches slinging themselves around the poles didn't chew her up first.
Still, I meant every word I said. She deserved a shot. Anything beat more of her moping around the clubhouse, taking up my room all the damned time, reminding my cock of what it wanted, but couldn't have.
“When do I see Dust?” she asked, turning her beautiful back and giving me a flash of that long, blonde hair. Noticed for the first time it hugged her close, halfway down her back, the perfect distance above that magnificent ass.
“Tomorrow. Never said what time, but if you're up by seven, you'll be good. You like what he says, the job's all yours. Won't be long before I drive you down there to start.”
“Oh, awesome, so you're my chauffeur now, too?”
“Sure, long as you admit you like riding bitch on the back of my bike.”
Her mouth dropped again. I fought the urge to laugh. Headed the fuck outta there before she could sling more shit, or else pretend her nipples weren't getting hard underneath that nice white blouse.
Even when I walked into the bar and took my seat next to Joker, sucking on a tall beer with one hand on his big dog's head, I couldn't bleach her from my mind.
This girl was something else.
Always shocked and appalled.
Always too fucking hot for her own skin.
Always calling to my dick when we weren't even in the same room.
Always the kinda spitfire I saw myself taming, railing, owning in all my wet dreams – except she really existed in the flesh. Just a fucked up, defiant girl who'd suffered too much shit and seemed too good for a bastard wearing the skull like me.
That made me want her like a fuckin' animal.
Sooner or later, she'd fall. This world tarnished the shit out of the most beautiful souls who tumbled into it. She wouldn't be the shy, upright twenty-something baby face forever.
Tore my heart out to know she'd wind up on my level the longer she hung around here. But the instant she did, I'd be there to catch her, get a piece of that hot, pink, tight perfection wedged between her legs.
I'd risk getting my cock clipped by the Prez for some of that. No, fuck, it wasn't just about the need I had to own her inside-out.
Deep down, somewhere so far and dark I never went there, I wanted the best for this chick. Wanted her to rise above it, to kick some serious ass and make bloody giblets outta this dark, rough universe I called home.
That fantasy was a whole lot more fucked up than imaging all the ways I'd slam her into the mattress after shredding her clothes. What the hell was she doing to me?
4
New Girl (Cora)
“Do your best. Make some money. We've got your meals and the roof over your head covered.” The tall, fearsome looking President of the Deadly Pistols MC stood over me, slowly pulling pipe smoke into his lungs every few words. “We'll be out of each other's fucked up sights before we know it, baby girl. You'll be off doing whatever you want, without the club or your old man's spirit dictating what you ought to do with your life.”
This man scared me more than Firefly, and it wasn't just because he was older. His eyes had that don't you dare fuck around glint in them times a thousand, their gray hue matching the rare ash slivers in his hair when it caught the light.
Jesus. Why did every man here have to look like a killer angel? Beautiful in their own way, but so menacing. Destructive. Frightening.
One question hung on my lips. I'd been fighting it since he'd stepped into my room and sat me down.
“What happened to my father?” I asked, finally mustering up the courage.
“Everything he already told you before he checked out. Jimmy fucked up, got himself into some shit so deep he couldn't dig himself out in time.” He took a long toke on his pipe and blew smoke at the floor before answering. “You'd better believe I tried to save him.
Did all I could. It ain't easy to wrestle a gun away from a man once he jacks it. Your old man jerked the gun out of my hands and had it waving around like a damned lunatic before I could talk him down. There wasn't any stopping him when he put it to his head and pulled the trigger.”
I winced. The fact that I hadn't actually seen it happen was the only thing that saved my sanity.
Now, I imagined everything Dust said, and it tore my heart to pieces. I pinched my eyes shut, fighting back the latest in the endless stream of tears I'd dealt with over the last few days.
His face softened when my eyes opened. His fingers touched my chin, and he tipped my face up, giving my jaw a tense squeeze before he let go. Those ash gray eyes bored into my soul.
“Make your daddy proud. This week's been hell on you. Would've twisted anybody in knots, especially a woman who's not used to shoveling this sorta horseshit day in and day out. Let me tell you, no matter how much that blackness inside you keeps trying to stop your heart, it doesn't have to.” He paused, almost like he was remembering words someone else had told him a long time ago.
“Live your life, Cora Chase. This club'll keep you safe so you get a second chance, in time. We can't bring your old man back to life, but fuck if I'm gonna let anything happen to you. You're too damned beautiful for this world. Too young. There's a thousand ways you kick this world right in the fucking sack. Nothing in your past, present, or motherfucking future needs to stop you from doing that.”
A hot tear rolled down my cheek. I ripped myself away from him and turned my back, hiding my pain from this stranger.
He sounded disturbingly like my father. So much like all those pep talks daddy had waiting for me after mom died young, a rare tumor in the head taking her life.
“Go with God, girl,” Dust growled. “A little divine grace and some help from hell on wheels is all you need. I'll leave you to rest up. Firefly'll drive you down to the Ruby Heel tomorrow. Skin's woman will help you get trained in.”
“No. No!” I sputtered, facing him. “I need to know what happened. Why did daddy die? What kind of trouble was he in?”
Dust's face darkened. “That's club business. All you need to know is he died scared. Terrified for himself, and for you. Jimmy cashed in a favor, and it's my job to keep you safe. That's exactly what I'm gonna do, Cora. Details ain't important unless they're all that's between you and some fucker trying to do you harm.”
“No? And what if they're the only reason I listen to anything you say?”
His eyes had that scary as hell glint before, but now they turned into deadly stars.
“Little girl, you don't have a choice. I'm keeping you safe if I gotta order my boys to get some rope, a gag, and a funnel to keep you fed. I'll strap you down myself if it keeps you out of trouble. You can either take the only chance I'm dropping into your lap to make something of yourself while you're our guest – or I'll treat you like the VIP you are.”
He stopped, pulled the pipe out of his mouth. I just glared at him, even though I was going to pieces inside, trying to stop myself from looking away, afraid.
“This club's run protection rackets before. We've never botched one. It's our way or the fucking highway when it comes to keeping you safe.” He smoothed a hand through his hair. “I'm gonna give you some time alone to think, to figure this shit out, before it gets you tied up. Literally. I will protect you, Cora, even from yourself. You press me, you won't like what I gotta do to make it happen.”
Dust walked out before I could catch him. I wanted to break down the door and go after him, but making a scene out there in the open clubhouse wouldn't do me any good.
Hold on. Just hold the hell on.
Sooner or later, somebody will slip up, and this will all make sense.
These assholes weren't giving me any choice. Much less an explanation.
I wouldn't let go. I had to find out what happened, what kind of danger I was actually in. My hands formed tight, angry fists.
I swore I'd never forget. I'd do what I had to do. I'd work for answers in between pretending I'd settled into some kind of normalcy here.
No, it wouldn't bring my father back to life, but I had to know why he'd died. It couldn't have been for nothing.
Hero would never show up in his obituary.
If villain didn't fit there instead, then at least I could let him rest in peace, and bury some of the pain eating at my heart.
“We're here,” Firefly growled. He killed his engine and helped me off his bike.
It was a bright, sunny morning. The light cut through the haze rolling in over the Smokies. Exactly what I didn't want to see before I headed into the dark, cavernous strip club.
“How long has this place been running?” I asked. The building looked new, or at least it had a fresh coat of paint.
A perfectly gaudy white contrast to the huge glittery neon red heel hanging over the entrance.
“Couple months or so. Took the club awhile to collect the seed money to get her going, but she's rocking it, or so I've heard from Skin. He deals with all the bean counting bullshit. His old lady's got a background in biz, too, and that's who you'll be working with.”
“Is she nice?” I should've bit my stupid tongue.
Wonderful. The shy, nervous girl was coming out, despite my best efforts to stuff her into her cage. Doubts and insecurities I'd had all my life before interviews and new classes leaped up, sank their teeth in, and wouldn't let go.
“Fuck if I know.” Firefly shrugged. “She keeps Skinny boy happy, and she's a solid girl. That's the end of my dealings with chick shit.”
Chick shit, huh? I stared at him, wondering how there could be any justice in the world when this flippant, sexist asshole looked like an Adonis. A very heavily tattooed one, draped in leather, whose hands had seen a lot more dirty work than any model.
It wasn't fair, damn it. A man like this shouldn't ooze sex while he infuriated me more times than I could count. What the hell was going on?!
Pursing my lips, I gave him one more glance, without saying anything. It wasn't worth it taking another jab at him, starting a fight before my first day of work.
He really looked like something wild in the spring morning, decked out in his leather, his fearsome patches, the dark inks rolling up his massive arms like tiger's stripes.
Once, he'd been a warrior in the service. Hard as it was to seriously believe.
He'd traded his uniform for a different one, but the soldier look lingered, even behind all the vicious symbols the army wouldn't be caught dead allowing on a soldier.
I'd never wanted to kiss a man, maul him, bite and scratch him to pieces all at once. Until now.
Oh, God. Firefly smiled, pinning my eyes in place with the look that told me something new and wicked was about to leave his mouth.
“Good luck, babe. Give me a call on that burner phone I gave you when Meg says you're done for the day. I'll be here.” He picked up his helmet and whistled, leaving me frozen in my tracks one more time before I headed inside. “You'll do just fine. Get in there and make it rain fuckin' money.”
Not what I'd expected. He was so...so nice.
“I will,” I said, standing there for a minute, just watching him like a stupid girl gawking at the Prom King blowing by on his hot new ride.
There wasn't any hope he'd heard me over the roar of his bike.
I hadn't asked for any of this – much less a bastard built like a tank, whose every other word was something foul or selfish.
But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't all bad. Maybe Firefly wasn't either.
Two hours later, I wanted to take back every word.
The job wasn't bad. It was awful.
Meg had been pleasant enough at the start, a curvy brunette roughly my age. The PROPERTY OF SKIN jacket she wore looked strange with her designer skirt and high end shoes, like two different worlds given a shotgun wedding in fashion.
“I'll introduce you to the girls!” she said cheerfully, flicking her hand. I notic
ed she wore a ring with a tiny dagger in the design. “Don't worry, none of them bite. We're all about the cash here. Drama free. Getting them out on stage in time's our biggest hurdle.”
She flashed me a big white smile and leaned in, covering her mouth so nobody would hear. “It takes a little push to get them going. But once they're out there...well, let's just say every man with a beer in hand would agree it's a sight to behold. Trust me, the bank account agrees.”
She led me out of her office into what looked like the backstage dressing room of an old theater. There, in front of the mirrors, I saw four of the most tall, spoiled, looks-obsessed bitches I'd ever meet in my life.
“Tawny, Annabelle, Cindy-rella, and Pix,” Meg said, pointing one by one. “Listen up, girls. This is your new production manager, Cora. She'll be handling your tips for accounting and making sure you get out on stage when the bell rings. We've had some issues with that lately. Every wasted second between acts means a few less dollars coming into the Heel and the club.”
She looked at the strippers and gestured to me.
One girl rolled her big green eyes, a yelp leaving her lips when she formed a pout. “Oh, please, Miss Wilder. You really had to bring in this little girl to help herd us like sheep? Nobody's dragged themselves out late more than ten or fifteen minutes this month.”
“That's ten or fifteen too many. You realize how much revenue we lose when men get bored?”
The four aimed the same catty eyes at their boss, but didn't say a word. Meg turned to me, cleared her throat, and pushed a binder into my hands.
“This has everything you'll need to make sure they're prepped and ready. They can stuff their tips in the envelopes inside. Track everything. We need to. We'd have the IRS bringing this place down in a heartbeat if we left it all to them. Good luck! And holler if you need anything.”
Smiling, she headed off with one more wave, her fancy shoes tapping the wooden floor like a train with a few loose wheels disappearing into the night.
The tall, dark, Latin looking woman named Tawny stood up. “Just leave us do our thing, and this'll work out fine. Miss Heels won't do shit if you slack off a little. Hell, she brought you in to keep us in line!”
