by Ravenna Tate
The tender expression on his face confused her, because it was mixed with sadness. “I’m really sorry about earlier, Kayla. I never meant to scare you like that.”
“You couldn’t have known. But thank you for saying so.”
“I’m glad you shared your past experiences with me. It helps to understand you better.”
“I’m not the kind of person who spills my guts easily.”
“Neither am I.” He brushed a finger down her face, and she thought he was going to say something else, but instead his expression returned to neutral. “I’ll see you later.”
Kayla sat there for a long time before finally disposing of the used condom again, and putting her own clothes back on. What was in his past that he’d never told anyone? Why was such a good-looking, decent guy unattached? But she wouldn’t pry. That wasn’t her way, just as it wasn’t his way to spill his secrets.
She completely understood that, because she didn’t trust others that easily, either. Kayla finally curled up on his bed and switched on the TV. She’d find something to watch until he came back upstairs, and then she had more fabulous sex to look forward to.
Her first impression of this place had been the right one. She would definitely be happy here. She’d finally found the right club for her. And maybe … just maybe, the right man, too.
Chapter Eight
When Mastema returned to his room, Kayla was sound asleep. He was also too tired to wake her, although the reason for that had nothing to do with him not wanting to fuck her again. He’d spent the rest of the evening in the club mulling over everything she’d told him earlier, and swallowing the shit Mark and Rahab gave him for taking her out of the private room.
He wasn’t about to betray her confidence, so he finally told them both to shove their goddamn dicks up their asses, sideways, and leave him the fuck alone. By the time Gorgon caught up with him, he didn’t even realize that Mastema had been upstairs for over an hour, fucking Kayla. And since no one told Gorgon about it, at least Mastema hadn’t been forced to deal with that shit, on top of everything else.
After watching Kayla sleep for a few moments, Mastema crawled into bed next to her and lay on his back. He closed his eyes, going over her first couple of weeks in the club when she’d barely glanced at him. The impression she’d left him and others with was one of a distant, entitled diva.
But now, after hearing what she went through, her aloofness made sense. She’d been protecting herself, sizing up the club and its members, and making sure she chose any sexual partners on her own terms.
The guilt at dragging her into the private room and almost fucking her in full view of over one dozen members was bad enough. Reminding himself that there was no way he could have known what a trigger that was for her didn’t help. And the reason for all this angst finally hit him in the gut, full force.
He had feelings for this girl. Strong ones. Something about her called to his protective nature. The part of him he kept from his Brothers, and had only shown to one other woman in his entire life.
Next to him, Kayla stirred, and Mastema held his breath. But she didn’t wake up. He eased out of bed and went downstairs, flipping on lights as he made his way into the club. No one was down there, which was fine with him. The smell of honey mixed with detergent assaulted his senses.
He walked around the bar and climbed the stairs to the stage. Whoever had washed the stage tonight after Honey’s act hadn’t done a very good job. It was still sticky in spots. If the customers didn’t love it when she danced, smeared in honey, they’d tell her stop doing it as part of her act. It made a fucking mess, and she had to be the last act of the night because it was also a fucking nightmare to clean up.
Rather than bother cleaning it up now, he’d leave a note, directing two of the prospects to do it in the morning. Some of the dancers would want to rehearse tomorrow, and Mastema didn’t anyone getting injured up there.
He walked along the stage, noting the worst areas. How the girls moved around up here, even with a shiny, clean floor, was beyond him. He was barefoot and the surface felt slippery to him. He could only imagine what it was like with those heels on they all wore.
The stage curved around, following the bar. When a dancer was up here, she was visible from nearly every spot in the club. Gorgon and Tannin had designed it that way on purpose. The only blind spot was the entrance to the sound booth, near the back of the club. There were no tables behind it, though, so it was only a blind spot if you happened to be standing back there.
Mastema eyed the gleaming mahogany that formed a curved edge around the entire bar. They kept it from becoming marred with scratches by coating it with some shit that Rahab said would protect the wood. And for the most part, it still looked brand new.
Standing up there, gazing out over the club, he realized how high up the dancers were. The stage was elevated above the shelves behind the bar. Not only were the girls able to look down over everyone tending bar, but they had an unobstructed view of every table and every barstool in the place. And the customers, in turn, had full view of the dancers, no matter where they sat.
What must it be like for Kayla to be up here, with all those eyes on her as she danced, basically naked, three nights a week? She never appeared afraid on stage. Quite the opposite. She was quickly becoming one of their better dancers.
Did Kayla feel safe up here, so far away from everyone, with members guarding the stairs? Was that why she was able to do this, even though they had a full crowd every night they were open? Because she sure as hell didn’t want an audience for sex.
If only he’d known that.
Stop beating yourself up!
Not that dancing and sex were the same thing, but she was down to nothing except a G-string by the end of most sets, and if Mastema had to guess, most of their guests were hard as rocks watching the live entertainment each night.
However, it was time to let it go. He couldn’t have known what she’d been through, and dancing wasn’t the same thing as having a dick inside you. Now that he was aware, it wouldn’t be repeated.
He’d asked her to be exclusive with him and she had agreed, but was it too soon? They barely knew each other. Well, they did know each other, but she didn’t know about his past. He had to tell her. It was only right, especially now.
In a moment of weakness, he’d taken a chance on asking her, and discovered that was what she wanted, too. He certainly couldn’t back out of it. Didn’t want to back out of it. But she had to know about Tina. It was time to tell her.
You sure about that?
“Fuck!” His shouted comment echoed loudly in the empty space. He sat down on the stage and eyed the bar below him, recalling the first time he’d spotted Tina, serving drinks behind that bar.
Nine years ago. That’s how much time had passed since he’d first met her. Only nine years. It was both a long time and nothing more than the blink of an eye. No one had affected him that way until now. Until Kayla.
“What should I do, Tina?” he whispered.
He could almost hear her voice, smoky and soft, telling him to stop acting like such a jackass and let this woman into his heart. She would say that, too. He knew it. She’d never been the kind of woman who became jealous or bitchy about others.
Not that Mastema had ever cheated on her. He wouldn’t have. But she’d once told him that if he wanted to fuck one of the sweetbutts or a dancer just for the hell of it, he should. As long as he didn’t flaunt it in her face, and as long as she remained his old lady afterward, she told him that she’d rather him get it out of his system than brood about it. She’d been that confident. Enough to understand that he loved her and would do anything for her.
Would Kayla ever feel that secure? Probably not. And, he could hardly expect her to, given the way she’d been raised, and the experiences she’d endured all these years. But he could protect her. He could help her learn to trust and accept the security this place and he could offer her.
Shit. Was
he actually sitting here, contemplating asking this girl to be his property? It was one thing to ask her to exclusively fuck him, and quite another to ask her to be his old lady.
Oh yeah, genius? Really? There’s a difference?
A technical one, yes. But in his mind, they were one and the same. After all these years, that frozen icicle he called a heart had finally begun to thaw. Short, dark hair and big blue eyes had been all it needed.
But was this real? Or did he feel this way simply because she’d shared her past with him? Was he reacting to the fact that he was the only man in this building she’d chosen to fuck? And how in the hell was he supposed to differentiate any of that shit to begin with?
Staring down at the bottles lined up on the shelves, he recalled sitting in this club with Gorgon, not too long ago, making fun of Tannin and the thunderbolt. It had hit Tannin hard the day he met Rai. But now here Mastema was, stricken by the same thing over Kayla. Talk about karma coming around to bite someone in the ass.
But he wasn’t upset by it. On the contrary. It was a peaceful sensation, as if all his problems had finally been solved by one simple solution. Only it wasn’t simple to let go of the past and allow yourself to trust again. To love again.
Or, was it?
“Fuck this.” Mastema stood and crossed the stage, giving the sticky spots another glance so he’d remember where they were. He turned off the lights, and went into the kitchen where they kept paper, a pen hanging on a chain, and a corkboard with push pins for tacking up notes.
He wrote a quick one, directing two of the prospects who weren’t on guard duty the next day to clean the stage again. And this time, to get all the honey off it. Chloe and Rai had a schedule printed out that hung in one corner of the board, so everyone knew who was assigned to which duties. Each week, they hung up a new one.
That was a new addition to the club, courtesy of Rai, and everyone liked it a lot. Even Gorgon had admitted it made things a lot easier than hunting down Rahab to find out who was supposed to be doing what that day, or finding one of the women to ask who was on which household duty.
Mastema chuckled as he turned off the lights downstairs and made his way toward his room. If a diehard badass like Gorgon could accept a change, even one that made his job easier, maybe it was time to open his heart and let Kayla inside all the way? That included telling her about Tina. It was only right that he did. She’d trusted him with her past, after all.
If they were going to give an exclusive relationship a serious chance, they needed to know such things about each other.
Chapter Nine
Hard knocking on his door woke Mastema. Before he had a chance to crawl out of bed, the door opened and Leroy, one of the prospects, poked his head inside. “Gorgon called an emergency church. You have ten minutes.”
Kayla sat up, glancing around. By the time she realized someone else was in the room, Leroy got an eyeful. He was still ogling her tits as Kayla pulled the sheet over them.
“I heard you,” said Mastema. “Now get the fuck out of here.” As he pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he mumbled that they needed fucking locks on these damn doors.
“That was rude.” Kayla had pulled her knees up to her chest and still had the sheet draped over her, up to her neck.
“Yeah, but you know how it is here. I didn’t wake you last night because you were sleeping so hard, I figured you needed the rest.”
“That’s okay.”
He kissed her. “Will you wait for me to come back?”
“I wish I could. I’m on laundry duty today.”
“Fuck.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. My fault for not waking you up. Later, then? There’s something I want to tell you.”
“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.” She cut her gaze toward the door. “You think he’ll be back?”
Mastema’s thoughts returned to that horrible moment in the private room when he’d nearly made her relive her worst nightmare. “He better fucking not be.”
“Okay. See you later then.”
He kissed her again, taking his time, even though doing so made his dick rock hard. He’d survive. Inside the church, everyone else was waiting. Mastema took his seat next to Phenex, raising his eyebrows at the sight of Donny and a man he didn’t recognize. Had something happened with Howler or the other Outlaw Dogs?
“Okay,” said Gorgon, standing. “You all know Donny, of course. This other gentleman is his nephew from Brooklyn, Daniel Basile, known as Digger. Donny has some information on the men who tried to cut the fence in back.”
After Gorgon took his seat, Donny leaned forward, clearing his throat. “Thanks, Gorgon. Digger doesn’t get to Ohio very often, but he’s staying with us for a while right now. Last night, we got to talking about some of the people we knew back when his father, my brother, and I were just kids in the old neighborhood. One thing led to another, and I realized I’d heard two names before, but not only in connection with my youth.”
He tented his fingers on the top of the table. “Two men you might know as part of the Outlaw Dogs MC, called Keith Jones and Christopher Buckley, but those are fake names. Their real names are Tom Becklin and Merle Grady. They’re wanted for a string of petty crimes throughout most of the five boroughs.”
No one said a word.
“I don’t know their road names. Don’t care. And I only know their fake names because like I told Vassago after your fence was cut, Vito and I have been talking, trying to work out a solution to this issue. I asked him for a list of names of the Outlaw Dogs MC members, et cetera. I wanted to run background on them, just in case.”
“Did he ask for the same from us?” asked Mastema.
“Wouldn’t matter if he had. I wouldn’t have given it to him.”
Mastema grinned. Only Donny could have pulled that off.
“So I ran this background on all the Outlaw Dogs last week. And when Digger here mentioned Tom and Merle, I recalled finding their names in the background checks, so I went to have another look. I’d bet good money on them being the same two who tried to cut your fence. Their MO is using wire cutters and small weapons ‘cause they’re light and easy to carry around.”
“Are you fucking telling us they had weapons on them?” asked Tannin.
“More than likely. Armed robbery is all over their rap sheets.”
“Can we prove it was them?” asked Gorgon.
“Don’t have to. I’ll have a little chat with Vito about those two, and we’ll make sure the state of New York knows where they are now.”
“That won’t bring more trouble here, will it?”
“I doubt it. Not once word gets out that Vito’s protection doesn’t extend to anyone who is wanted in another state, and who is stupid enough to try shit like that here. I suspect you’ll see a sudden decrease in the Outlaw Dog MC’s membership soon.”
A few of the Brothers laughed, but Mastema didn’t join them. He’d rather know for certain what Tom and Merle had intended that night, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen.
“Regardless, I’ll leave Gene and Dominic here a while longer, just in case anything else happens.” Donny gave a quick nod in Gorgon’s direction. “As long you don’t mind, that is.”
“’Course not. We appreciate it.”
Donny’s men had been enjoying the hospitality of most of the sweetbutts, so they certainly weren’t going to complain about sticking around.
“Sounds like it’s a mess over there,” said Mastema. “The MC, I mean.”
“It is. That’s why me and Vito want to resolve this before the group that followed Mad Dog goes rogue and no longer gives a shit what either of us say.”
“Mad Dog was definitely talking to a boss in Queens,” said Digger. “Name of Roberto di Stefano. You don’t want him or his men coming here to fix this.”
“Mad Dog was talking to him?” asked Vassago. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” said Donny. “Now you see why this is a priority fo
r both me and Vito.”
“I take it you’re acquainted with this di Stefano guy?” Tannin asked Vassago.
“Not personally. Only by reputation.”
“I know him,” said Donny. “And believe me, you don’t want to.”
“If the two who tried to cut the fence are members of the Outlaw Dogs,” said Apollyon, “wouldn’t they have known we have a security system? They certainly didn’t think they could bust in here.”
Mastema was glad someone asked that while Donny was here.
“I’m sure they knew,” said Donny. “But I think that’s the reason they waited until the club was open. They’d been told there were only two people guarding the back area. If they had weapons like I suspect they did, they would have likely shot your two prospects that night.”
John and Mark exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
“Which explains why they didn’t try to break in after hours,” said Phenex. “They knew about the security system. They knew about the prospects guarding the back lot. But they didn’t know about the extra men on the perimeter we have now. They figured all they needed to do was take out the guards in back.”
“Why not simply walk in the front door, then?” asked Phenex. “Flash fake IDs and they’re in?”
“I don’t think they were coming here to watch the dancers,” said Vassago. “It might have been a trial run. To make a quicker way in later, once the club was closed for the night. Or, to scope out what they needed to get past after hours.”
“There are plenty of places to hide in here,” said Digger. “It’s not an uncommon practice. Gain access to a place, leave a way out, aka the hole in the fence, and hide out until everyone goes to bed.”
“Holy fuck,” said Tannin, as the officers each exchanged glances. “We were right about one thing. One of the assholes we kicked out of here, or Tarot, told them details about the set up.”
“But they don’t yet know that Donny’s men are here full time,” said Vassago. “And they don’t know we have extra patrols along the perimeter. If any of them try it again, they’ll have a nasty surprise on their hands.”
