by Ashley Lane
Second, the girls are free to choose when they want to use them. Third, when a room is in use, it is non-negotiable that the room be monitored by a member of our security staff.
To protect the privacy of the clients and staff, we didn’t install video cameras in the rooms, instead opting for microphones planted in undisclosed locations. If one of the girls feels threatened by a client, they can use the safe word and security will be notified. The final condition is that any money earned from the back rooms belongs to the girls. Corrupt refuses to take a percentage of those earnings.
I lean on the desk and cross my arms while Rhys looks up at me expectantly. “Have the girls questioned him when they don’t have a payment waiting for them at the end of their shift?” My mind is spinning. How the fuck has Malcolm been getting away with this?
To hear that my manager—someone that should prioritize the safety of these women—is giving away free reservations to the back rooms, has my blood boiling and my skin threatening to burst with the rage building within. From Rhys’ paled expression, the fury is evident on my face.
Rhys appears positively green as he wipes his palms against his black jeans. “They don’t ask.” He scratches the back of his neck before he continues. “He pays them with cash he takes from the till.”
My trigger finger twitches reflexively, as if subconsciously practicing a move that’s as familiar to me as breathing. Fucker’s been living on borrowed time, and it’s officially run out.
“Thank you for coming to me, Rhys. You don’t need to worry about anything. I can assure you it will be taken care of.”
The ominous promise in my voice isn’t lost on him. For all the secrets Heaven’s Guardians MC keeps, whispers of our club have spread through the town. Slivers of truth intermingled with misconceptions and fear have created bedtime stories that would give adults nightmares. The fact that Rhys chose to come to me and not sweep it under the rug proves why he’ll be a great fit as Corrupt’s manager. He’ll need to be groomed, and his backbone needs some reinforcing, but all of that will come in due time.
When he’s dismissed, Rhys leaves like his ass is on fire and I can’t find it in me to laugh. Fury is still at the forefront of my mind. I round the desk and grab my phone to shoot a text to Priest.
Me: We got a problem.
Priest: Do you know the answer?
I smirk. Yeah, I know the fuckin’ answer. But since Priest proposed that we leave the life of confessions and sinners, I doubt he’s going to like it.
Me: We need a vote.
Prez or not, we decide as one. That’s how it’s been from the beginning, and that’s how it will stay until we walk away.
Priest: Done.
Seconds later, a text comes through our group thread.
Priest: Church. 10PM.
One by one confirmations in the affirmative show up on the screen. A mix of excitement and dread settle in my bones. It’s been months since we’ve had a sinner—the longest we’ve gone without spilling blood. Chills race across my skin as it begins to crawl. My own monster bares his claws, scratching from within, fighting to be free. I need this.
***
When I join Malcolm and Rhys behind the bar, I stand back and watch as Malcolm flirts with a customer. The blonde smiles as he ogles her. He licks his lips as he slides a glass of vodka across the bar top, giving her a wink. His voice is low, but the sexual undertones can’t be hidden, and his use of baby girl at the end of every sentence makes me cringe.
Finally noticing me, Malcolm takes his eyes off the blonde. “Boss.” He nods.
I ignore him and turn to the woman whose tits are two breaths away from falling out onto the worn wooden surface of the bar. “He get you taken care of?” I ask, being sure to flash my dimple that always makes chicks—Hell! And dicks—Swoon! As predicted, Malcolm is a thing of the past and her sights are firmly set on me.
“He did.” She boldly reaches forward to run her two-inch acrylic nail down my arm. “But now I’m thinkin’ I might be in the mood for somethin’ else,” she purrs.
Before I can dissuade her, Malcolm snorts behind me. “Think you might be barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart. Bitches in heat aren’t really his style. Unless you’re packing a hard bone under your skirt.” He tries to play off his blatant attempt at an insult with a smirk, but the underlying sneer in his words has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
It’s been years since I bedded a woman and I have no plans to in the future, but I can’t help putting Malcolm in his place and correcting the crude remark. “Actually, I’m an equal opportunity lover. I’ve been on a dick kick the past few years. But for the right woman…” I trail off, lust heady in my tone.
I curse under my breath. Fuck me. That escalated quickly. As in skip go, do not collect two hundred dollars, and take your ass straight to jail, because I just sent this conversation straight into sexual harassment territory.
Before the huntress can get any ideas, I end it. “Unfortunately, I need to have a talk with Malcolm here. You have a great night.”
Malibu barbie pouts at the dismissal, but I’ve gotta give it to the woman, she’s not easily dissuaded. With practiced ease she pulls a pen from her tits and scribbles her number down on the cocktail napkin. “Call me later.” She presses a red lipstick kiss to the napkin. “I’d love to show you what you’ve been missing.” The satisfied gleam in her eye says she believes she has a real chance. About as real as those tits, sweetheart. I make a show of folding the napkin and putting it in my pocket before she turns and saunters away, no doubt on the prowl for her next victim.
When it’s clear she’s not going to look back, I pull the damp napkin from my pocket and crush it in my fist before tossing it in the trash.
Malcolm makes a sound between a fake laugh and a snort of derision. “Never known you to be a liar, Boss.”
I turn to Malcolm and barely hold back my sneer at the self-satisfied look on his face. Fucker thinks because I threw away the number, I somehow proved his point. Guess it’s time to take the motherfucker to school.
“Let me make something perfectly clear, Malcolm. I’ve been sticking my dick into pussy long before you even knew what yours was for. Be it the warm, wet hole of a dripping pussy, or the tight, strangling grip of a man’s ass—my dick has seen it all.” When he stares at me, speechless, I continue, “I’m also fascinated with your sudden interest in my dick and where I stick it.” I take a suggestive step forward and smirk when he backs away, only to realize there’s a wall behind him. “I’ve never been one for subtle hints, so if you want something from me you’re gonna have to be a little more direct.”
Being this close to him and suggesting that I would ever let my dick anywhere near him, makes me sick. But I have a plan, and the pieces need to be set in motion.
“Listen, I just came down to tell you that you can head home for the day. It’s slow right now and there’s no sense in you and Rhys both being here.”
Malcolm folds his arms over his chest. “So send Rhys home. Why should I have to leave? I’m more experienced and you know it’ll be packed later tonight. He can’t handle that by himself.”
Is this asshole trying to get on every single one of my nerves tonight? The petty part of me wants to tell him that he’ll leave because I said so. The rational part of me already has a reply that will feed perfectly into his narcissistic self.
“You’re right, but I saw the time sheet and you’ve been working your ass off lately. And you’ve got your vacation time coming up too. Plus, I’d like a night working the bar with the kid. Make sure he’s up to Corrupt’s standards.”
Malcolm nods, looking satisfied that I noticed how much time he’s been putting in before he glances at Rhys. “I guess I could use a night off from babysitting before I go on vacation. Between us, dude’s kinda creepy. I think he’s been giving off a bad vibe to some of the girls.”
“Yeah?” I lower my voice. “You think he’s a threat to them?”
; Malcolm hesitates, but his eyes never meet mine. “Look boss, it’s not my place to say, and I don’t want to be the one that causes the kid to lose his job… I caught him sneaking around one of the back rooms the other day. I don’t know if he was just listening in to get his rocks off or what, but I imagine the girls will feel pretty violated if they know it happens.”
I’ll take ‘I’m a goddamn liar for two hundred, Pat’.
“Fuck, I’ll look into it.” I give his shoulder a squeeze and he flinches. “Thanks, Mal. I’ll see if I can pull anything from the cameras.”
Cue the backtracking. “Ah, you can look, but I doubt you’ll be able to see him from where he was standing. He’s been here long enough to know where the cameras are.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s like he knows exactly where to stand.”
“Shit.” I raise my brow, feigning shock. Clearly Malcolm is out of the loop on Corrupt’s security. He has no idea what he’s in for. “No problem, I’ll have Bullet pull the footage from the ones he installed.”
Malcolm does his best to hide it, but when my words penetrate, his breathing escalates and sweat dots his brow. “You had Bullet install some too?” The tremble in his voice is like a homing beacon. I don’t miss it, and I don’t miss the clench of his jaw or the nervous tics beneath his eyes.
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, of course. Need all our bases covered. About six months ago we noticed the receipts weren’t matching up to the till—kept coming up short.” I give him a nonchalant shrug. “We figured a customer managed to dip his hands in while you or Rhys had your backs turned. I completely forgot about it until now.”
“Good thing you have ‘em then.” He scrubs his hands over his face and blinks rapidly.
“Yeah. Oh, and Malcolm, thanks for the heads up. I’m going to look into it.” I give a subtle nod in Rhys’s direction.
Malcolm makes a hasty retreat and I use his absence to familiarize myself behind the bar. Cocktail shakers, strainers, straws and stirrers are sorted into their appropriate places along with small baskets of fresh fruit and herbs for garnishes. Working through my mental list, I check the shelves below the bar to ensure we’ve got enough stock for the month.
We always have a large range of non-alcoholic beverages available, but because they’re used as mixers as well, they tend to run out quickly. Satisfied with what we have, I line up the highball and shot glasses that have been moved, probably during a busy shift. This area, including the anti-slip flooring—thank fuck—is spotlessly clean.
When I turn around to check the shelves where the bottles of alcohol are displayed, my mood sours again. What the fuck?! “Hey, Rhys, why are there so many bottles missing?”
The wall behind the bar is just one of the eye-catching features at Corrupt. Back lit by red neon lights, the clear glass shelving makes it appear as though the bottles are suspended midair. For that reason, it’s imperative it’s kept fully stocked at all times.
Our customers expect to be served whatever they ask for, no matter the price. Whether it’s the top shelf cognac or whiskey, or the cheaper flavored liqueurs, we pride ourselves on having an international range of alcohol that most clubs will never see.
Right now, the top shelf is bare, and I count seven empty spaces on the lower shelves.
Rhys looks up from where he’s washing and drying wine glasses. “I’m not sure. I asked Malcolm about placing an order last week, but he said something about needing to make it worth it for the shipping.”
I make a mental note to check the invoices and see the last time an order was placed. The wall is basically fucking barren and honestly, it’s a goddamn embarrassment. I grab a pad and pen from behind the bar and begin the monotonous task of going through the inventory and making a list of what needs to be ordered immediately. By the time I’m finished it’s nearing eight pm and the nighttime early birds are making their way in. Rhys is damn near running to fill orders as a line of customers wait at the bar.
The only words exchanged between us are to shout out what we need from the other end of the bar. Rhys may be a little shy and skittish when we’re one on one, but behind the bar, it’s clear he’s in his element. He never falters; never messes up an order and even goes as far as stopping me before I inadvertently send out the wrong drinks on more than one occasion.
I help him for a solid thirty minutes until there’s a break in the crowd. When the last customer is served and we can finally breathe, Rhys grabs two bottles of water from the cooler and passes one to me.
I wipe down the bar and throw my empty water bottle in the recycle bin. “I’m about to head out,” I tell Rhys.
He chokes. “Head out? You mean you’re leaving?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I got shit to do that can’t wait. I’m gonna get one of the girls to come help you with simple orders, that’ll relieve the tap and bottle beer requests so you can focus on the wall.” I glance at the pitiful selection again. “Which shouldn’t be hard since we’re out of over half our normal stock.”
Rhys looks like he’s about to piss himself. “Don’t stress, kid. I wouldn’t leave you here if I had any doubts. If anyone gives you trouble, call Bruno or Stan, they’ll be working the door tonight.”
A man dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit collapses onto a barstool. “Judge,” I greet the man who presided over Falcon and Tobias’ adoption. “What can I do for you?” I place a cocktail napkin in front of him.
Judge Dickson loosens his tie before he pushes a hand through his silver hair. “I do believe it’s a whiskey kinda night, my boy.” I grab a glass, thankful that he ordered something I actually have in stock.
“Here you go.” I set down his glass. “If you need anything else, Rhys here will help you out.” I leave the bar without a backward glance, and before Rhys can give me his ‘Don’t leave me alone’ look.
I stop in the office to grab my helmet and jacket before I lock the door behind me and head downstairs. Halfway down, I run into Shelly.
“Hey Shell. Everything alright?”
She glances down at my helmet and jacket. “Oh, I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t realize you were leaving.”
Damn. I check my watch. “I’ve got a few more minutes. What’s up?”
Shelly steps back against the bannister and tucks her hair behind her ears. “I have a friend that’s fallen on hard times and she’s looking for a job.”
I throw my jacket over my shoulder while I consider her statement. Someone always has a friend who’s looking for a job, but here at Corrupt—as Shelly knows—there’s a big difference between ‘looking’ for a job, and ‘needing’ a job. The need is what matters.
“Can you tell me anything about her situation?”
She scrunches her nose. “Well—”
I cut her off. “What about her… can you tell me anything about her?”
Shelly tugs on the hem of her mini skirt before she looks up at me again. “Um… I kinda just met her. Honestly, I don’t know much about her other than she seems like a really good person, and I’d like to help her myself, but…” She shrugs.
I sigh. “You know how we work here, Shell. We try to keep our hires to those in desperate situations. Hiring someone who doesn’t meet those stipulations means we won’t have room when the next girl comes.” As the words come out of my mouth, I realise how bad they must sound. But without knowing this girl or her circumstances, it’s not an easy decision.
Her shoulders drop. “I know and I understand that—believe me. The only reason I thought it may work is because she doesn’t want to dance.”
My brow knits in confusion. “She knows this is a strip club, correct?”
Shelly nods. “She came in a little while ago, but Malcolm…” she trails off.
Fuck. I’m sick of hearing the dude’s name today. “Malcolm?” I question.
“He was a little… abrupt with her when she asked about a job.”
Why the hell wasn’t I told about this sooner? “What do you propose she do if she’s not going to
dance?” My tone is harsher than I realize, but this shit with Malcolm needs to end. “Sorry, Shell.” I run a hand through my hair.
She beams. She knows I can’t turn away someone in need. “Anything. Clean, help behind the bar, send her where she’s needed.”
I check my watch. I really need to get out of here if I’m going to make it to Church by 10PM. “How about we test her out on a probationary period? Can she come in for a soft interview tomorrow night? Around 10?”
Shelly nods rapidly. “Thank you so much, Angel.” She leaps forward to hug me but stops at the last second and pats my chest. “You won’t regret it.” Cheeks blushing red, she steps back to let me pass her.
You won’t regret it. Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard those words before and lived in the aftermath of the regret.
“Alright, I gotta head out.” At the bottom of the stairs, I stop and turn back to Shelly. “Shit, wait. Can you help Rhys out behind the bar tonight? He’ll handle the cocktails and spirits; I just need you to grab bottles and tap orders.”
“Yeah sure, I don’t mind.” With another nod and a bright smile, she gives me a wave.
“Thanks Shell. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget—Ten pm for your friend.”
Before I leave, I stop by the girls dressing room. Once I’m satisfied that everyone is here and there are no problems, I head to my bike and shrug my jacket on as I go. Without a backward glance, I navigate my bike onto the road and ride toward the clubhouse.
Church is waiting. It’s time to vote.
CHAPTER 6
JAX
Loose gravel from years of wear and tear on the old concrete road crunches beneath my truck’s tires as I pull into the parking space outside my mom’s house. My mom lives in a neighborhood a half step up from the almost derelict streets I call home. While the houses here have bars on their windows, the yards are filled with luscious green grass, and the laughter of children floats through the air. A sound that is sadly lacking in my neighborhood.
