by Brook Wilder
We might not all be doctors or teachers, but at the end of the day our work is a means to the same end.
The music started to pulsate, and my body went into autopilot, my mind whirling with all the shit I had to do after this dance was over with. Before I’d gotten the call that I’d be a dancer short, I had been on my way to the liquor closet to replenish the bar. But I quickly changed my mindset, giving my assistant manager the task of restocking booze while I swapped my slacks and blouse for something slinkier.
It was either me or her, and if I forced Jan to dance, she would likely pass out before her feet hit the well-worn stage. Jan was a single mother of two young ones and a whiz in accounting, which was why I had hired her on the spot. While I could charm the pants off the patrons, I was never very good at the books. Jan kept us in line and out of the hands of the IRS.
And it’s not like this happened a lot. Misty wasn’t one to call out of work; she was a talented dancer and a hard worker. It worried me, actually, that she didn’t show tonight knowing the personal troubles she’d danced through before. I wondered if her absence was due to something far worse than a dreadfully sick child or a freshly purpled eye from a douche-bag boyfriend.
There was trouble brewing, big trouble, between the Legion and the Cazadores. Word on the street was that the Cazadores were going to target the businesses of the Legion, which put the Gallery right in the thick of a turf war. While I didn’t pick and choose my patrons, I didn’t hesitate to throw unruly guests out on their asses, and so far tonight, I had done so at least three times. Money was money to me, but I knew there would come a time when I would be forced to fully express my allegiance to the Legion. I couldn’t deny that Jack Carry had been good to me over the years. After my father’s passing three years ago, they had allowed me to stay on at the club, working for them as my father had done nearly all of his life. Jack had not once said anything about me leaving, or turning the club over to someone else, and for that I was grateful.
The Gallery was my life. It was the reason I rolled out of the bed in the morning. There were people that depended on the paycheck I provided weekly, and the strip club was more than just a place to make a buck.
We were a family. I had no one left since my father died, no siblings to help shoulder the grief. My mom was one of his many affairs, leaving me with him when she couldn’t care for me any longer. Unlike most men, he had taken me in and raised me in this place. He wouldn’t have won a Father of the Year Award by any stretch of the imagination, but I had been cared for and loved.
And now it was just me. I was the owner of my own fate, the keeper of my future.
Gripping the pole, I turned myself upside down, spreading my legs as I inched my way down it. The music was really pounding now, and it was finally working its way into me, drowning out my worries. Dancing was an art, an expression of merging with the music flowing into your brain. The music was everything when it was just you on the stage, entertaining a crowd.
Flipping back upright, I locked eyes with the two Legion members who were sitting at a table not too far from the stage. When they’d arrived earlier, it concerned me. Why would Jack send them here? Likely the rumors were true, and I was about to have some trouble on my hands. Jared Fulton was an enforcer, though under his gruff exterior, I knew he had a heart of gold. His wife, Lisa, was a friend of mine and I hadn’t ever seen her so happy than she was now.
The other one, ‘the Kid’ as they called him, watched me intently, though not in a leering manner. He was more curious than anything. He wasn’t gruff, his body more lean than bulky, and there was no mistaking the label on his vest. It was a training label, one that I had seen come through here more than once. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, wondering how much longer he had.
Most of the trainees didn’t stay alive long enough to gain their enforcer label.
I gave him a sultry smile, surprised at the flutter in my chest as he returned it with a smirk. Though he wasn’t the usual sort of Legion member, I could see his strong jaw, the flashing blue eyes that followed my every move. He was kinda cute, especially the way his hair fell across his forehead.
I wanted to push it away.
I moved myself toward that part of the stage, shaking my hips and bending over so that he could get a real good picture of my ass. Dollar bills rained down on the stage, but I ignored them, dropping to all fours so that I could crawl over in his direction before flipping on my back, arching it to draw the whistles that would tell me my audience was still paying attention.
Despite my curves, I was quite flexible when I wanted to be. I rolled over and motioned for him to come near the stage, seeing the surprise flare in his eyes. They were beautiful, like a crystal blue sea I had seen once on a visit to California.
“Go on, man!” Jared said with a laugh. “She wants you.”
The Kid stood, towering over the table and started toward the stage as I crawled toward him, the floor cool against my skin. There was something about him that made me want to tease him a little, like he was actually enjoying the show and not wanting me to strip off my clothing.
He was doing a damn good job with his eyes on that regard.
“You wanted me?” he asked lightly, crossing his arms over his chest.
The gesture highlighted the swell of his bicep, making me re-evaluate my earlier thoughts of him not being muscular. Oh, he had muscles, alright.
I leaned forward, my hair falling like a veil over my shoulder. The music was climaxing, but I wasn’t ready to get off the stage just yet. “Honey, given that bulge in your pants, I think you’re the one wanting.”
He chuckled. “What do you want?”
“A kiss,” I said, pursing my lips. “End this set right.”
I saw the indecision in his eyes and wondered where that was coming from. Any other man would jump at the chance, given who I was and what I was asking. “Do I scare you?”
“No,” he ground out, sliding a hand against my jaw.
I nearly jumped at the feel of him, surprised at the warmth that spread over my skin. I didn’t like to be touched beyond anything I’d explicitly communicated was allowed, but his touch, well, it left me wanting more.
Oh, this was a mistake.
His thumb caressed my jaw lightly as he leaned in, and my eyes fluttered closed in anticipation of what he was going to taste like, what his kiss was going to feel like. There was something different about this one.
A scream registered somewhere in the back of my mind, and his hand fell away from my face. My eyes snapped open and my lips parted as I was about to express my displeasure in him ruining the moment.
But then I saw why.
Scrambling to my feet, I watched as Cazadores poured through the door. Male bodies jostled closer together as they instinctively made room for this intrusive show of force. At the front of the pack of unwelcome guests was the person I hated most in this world. A man I could’ve shot between the eyes without hesitation or remorse.
“Well well, this is a treat.”
“Marco,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re ruining my dance.”
He looked around, a grin on his face. “Come on, Querida. I’ve arrived just in time. Go on, show me the rest of your little dance.”
I glared at him, wishing I could end him with my eyes. Marco Nieto was the leader of the Cazadores and a heinous excuse for a human being. More than once he’d weaseled one of my girls into his bed, promised them protection, and then discarded them bruised and battered. Recently, I’d become the newest target of his relentless, predatory attention.
I wasn’t stupid. “What do you want, Marco?”
He grinned, throwing his arms out wide. “We are only here for a little fun, Querida. Surely you can show us some fun in this shithole.”
I put a hand on my hip, the seductive energy snapped from my body in an instant as I stared him down. “Get out.” I was tired of playing these stupid games. No amount of drinks or folded bills were wort
h entertaining this man and his pack of hyenas.
His smile disappeared, and his eyes hardened. “That’s not nice.”
“Who said I was?” I replied. “Get out. You’re not welcome here.”
He reached for me, but before he could touch me, the Kid’s arm shot out and grabbed his wrist, stepping between us.
My chest tightened as I fought to control my posture. This wasn’t what I had been going for, and Jared’s new friend had no idea what Marco was capable of.
“The lady asked you to leave,” the Kid said, his voice unwavering.
The fate of most trainees was death, and maybe his end would be tonight. I wasn’t sure why that bothered me so much, but I could feel the dampening of my upper lip with sweat as the thought took root in my head.
Marco’s eyes flashed. “One. No one touches me unless they want a bullet in their fucking head. Two. This ain’t no lady. She’s a two-bit whore just like the rest of the Legion bitches.”
Jared stepped in alongside the kid, his movements subtle, but sure. “Come on, Marco. You’re ruining everyone’s night.”
Marco glared at Jared who held his stare with steady eyes. For a tense moment, not a soul moved. Finally, Marco shook his hand free from the Kid and eased back, his mouth in a firm line. I sauntered down from the stage and positioned myself in front of the kid, with Jared to my side.
The Gallery was mine, and at the end of the day, I made the rules. “Get your trash out of here.”
This time there was no pause. Marco didn’t size me up as he had Jared. Instead he reached out, and before I could register what was happening, slapped me hard across the mouth. I stumbled back, already pissed that he’d truly ruined the night now with one childish action. We were a hair’s ass away from a giant brawl that would leave damage for me to clean up, but even if we somehow managed to avoid that shit, no one would be in the mood to enjoy themselves after witnessing this unpleasantness.
Now on steady feet, I flicked the wall of red curls off my face, my eyes watering from the burning in my cheek. I could see nothing but a blur as a man launched himself at Marco. Well. Giant brawl it is then.
Just as all hell broke loose, it realized the Kid was the idiot who had gone for him. I was so shocked that a whimper escaped my lips.
Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back from the fighting. “Oh my god,” Jan’s voice shouted in my ear. “We need to call Jack.”
I let her pull me into the shadow of the stage. My damned cheek still hurt from where Marco had struck me. But my eyes were on the blonde who was wiping the floor with Cazadores. It took the briefest of seconds to realize he was the Kid. Hope percolated in my chest that maybe he’d survive to earn his enforcer badge. And I might just see it on him if he came around again.
“Who is that?” I had to know his name.
“That’s Gary Holmes,” Jan said breathlessly, tugging on my arm. “Come on before they bring out the guns!”
I tore my gaze away from him and followed Jan to the back, reaching for my cell that I’d left on my desk. I doubted I would need to call in the reinforcements; likely they would be here before I had a chance to finish a sentence.
Still, Jack needed to know. Finding his number, I pressed ‘call.’
“What?” he barked into the phone.
“It’s Becky,” I said as I tried to catch my breath. “Cazadores are here at the Gallery.”
“Shit,” he swore under his breath. “Marco?”
“Yeah,” I answered as Jan handed me my clothes. I stepped into some black slacks with my phone pinched between my cheek and shoulder. “It’s Marco.”
“Hang tight.” The line went dead.
I threw a silk blouse over my head while Jan wrung her hands, the sounds of screaming muffled by the wall of the dressing room. “Get everyone out of the building,” I said, pulling on my running shoes instead of the strappy heels I normally wore around the office. “Take the cash and get the hell out of here.”
“Got it,” she said, heading toward the door. I picked up the bat I kept in the dressing room, the weight of it dangling from my hand calming me, before stepping around Jan. Instead of turning toward the back door, I went in the opposite direction.
This was my home. It was time the Cazadores, Marco especially, understood that.
**
An hour later, I righted a chair, my arms just barely trembling with fatigue. I hadn’t gotten a shot at Marco, that son of a bitch, but I’d put a few dents in some of his goons. Luckily the Gallery hadn’t sustained a lot of damage and neither had the Legion, though the night was indeed a bust. On the bright side, the brawl had been large enough that we would probably be turning people away at the door tomorrow night; as the men were putting themselves together, I could tell the political fallout from this confrontation would travel wide, and people would come with the hopes of catching a fight instead of a lap dance. As long as they drank, tipped well, and behaved themselves, I didn’t care what they wanted.
“You alright?”
I looked up to see Fox Lawrence, Jack’s right hand man, standing in front of me. “I’m fine.”
He gestured to my cheek that was surely turning a lovely shade of purple by now. “Are you sure?”
I turned away from him, still annoyed I’d given Marco the opportunity to hit me in the first place. “I said I’m fine.” I set another chair upright.
“We’ll double the amount of Legion presence in the Gallery,” Fox said, knowing when to drop a subject and move on. “They will be back, Becky, and next time might be worse.”
I clenched my jaw, ignoring the pain in my cheek. No one had died tonight, probably because of the overwhelming number of Legion members. Enough of them showed up that by the end, they were escorting the last few Cazadores out the door without more bloodshed. By the time I joined the melee, I could barely get into the room and was forced to mostly watch from the sidelines.
Still. I did get those few dents in. I hoped it would make any other Diablo think twice before striking me or one of the girls.
“Do what you have to do,” I finally said, feeling the pull of exhaustion. “Just keep my girls safe.”
Fox grunted, and I sighed, looking around the room. I had kind of hoped to see the Kid, no Gary, again, but he was nowhere to be found. I owed him a thank you for what he had done, even if it was stupid as hell to take on someone like Marco Nieto.
Shaking my head, I moved to the next chair. One thing was for certain, with Fox calling for an increase in Legion force, I doubted it would be the last time I saw him.
Chapter Three
Gary
I sat back in the chair, my jaw in a permanent clench. It was the morning after the fight at the Gallery and my knuckles were still raw, the knife wound on my stomach still hurting. The knife had come out of nowhere, and I had jumped back just in time to avoid being gutted right then and there. I hadn’t even needed stitches, but that didn’t help my mood.
“We have to do something,” Fox was saying as he leaned against the wall. “This is going to get out of hand quickly.”
“It already is,” Jack sighed, swiping a hand over his face. “I don’t have enough fucking men to go around at this rate.”
A few of the Legion members had been attacked this morning, one bad enough to be sent to the hospital. Jack had called an emergency meeting with everyone, warning them that the Cazadores were out for blood, and to shoot first and ask questions later.
He’d also told everyone to get their loved ones out of town. Apparently, an innocent woman was attacked yesterday and would have been kidnapped if it hadn’t been for Derrek McMurray foiling their plan.
I had met the Irish bastard in my first weeks here with the club, finding him not quite what I thought a Legion member should be . Fulton explained that he wasn’t actually a member, but was grandfathered in due to his father being one of the founding members of the Legion.
I had taken his words to heart and hoped my parents would listen to me if I ask
ed them to leave. I knew they wouldn’t though. They would refuse and brush off my concerns. No one would think they were important enough to harm, my father would point out.
He didn’t know what these men are capable of, but I would be wasting my breath trying to explain that to him.
Fulton shifted in the seat next to me, drawing my attention back to my surroundings, and I knew he was thinking about Lisa’s safety. Most would say that having a wife or a family in this line of work was nothing but a liability. For that reason, only half of the club members were married with kids. Jack himself was married, though I imagined if anyone tried to mess with his wife, Sarah, she would put a bullet in them herself. She was as tough as the old man.
