Claiming Menace: Ruthless Sinners MC

by L. Wilder

  “But why? You don’t know anything about me.”

  “You’re wrong there, son. I know everything about you.” The intensity in his eyes grew even more fierce as he crossed his arms and gave a complete rundown of my history. “You grew up here in Nolensville. It’s just you and your father. Your mom had a heart defect and died when you were fifteen, and that’s when your ol’ man started drinking and ran off your sister. You graduated from high school, but you did it without any real effort. You got a few friends here and there, but none that would stand by you when things get tough... really tough.”

  “Damn.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “You really did your research.”

  “Damn straight I did. It’s my job to know everything I can about the men I bring into the fold.”

  “But why me?”

  He never took his eyes off me as he continued, “When I got wind of what you’d done for Axel’s niece, I started looking into you. Discovered you have a certain skill set that would be beneficial to the club.”

  “You want me to be a hacker for your club?”

  “I think he’s finally gettin’ it.” Shotgun snickered.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. The guy was completely serious about all this, and I couldn’t deny how intrigued I was by his offer. I’d never had a real sense of purpose, and this Viper guy and his brothers were giving me a chance to change that. I was scared to accept, but even more scared to turn him down. I wasn’t sure what to do, but there was something about this man who stood in front of me that exuded confidence—the kind of confidence that set my mind at ease. My racing pulse started to slow, and the haze of panic and fear lifted, making it possible to think for the first time since they’d arrived at my doorstep. I looked up at Viper. “But you guys are bikers. I don’t know anything about motorcycles. I’ve never even ridden before.”

  “You’ll learn.”

  “And what about things here?”

  “I don’t know. That’s up to you, but it doesn’t look like you’ll be leaving much behind.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a card, and offered it to me. “Think about it. If you’re interested, and I can tell you are, come by the clubhouse and meet the other guys. If all goes like I think it will, you’ll start the prospecting process.”

  “Prospecting?”

  “Just get to the clubhouse. The sooner the better.”

  With that, the four men got on their motorcycles, roared out of my driveway, and disappeared into the horizon. Once I was certain they were gone, I glanced back at my so-called home and listened to my father and Eugene carry on about the game on the TV. I didn’t have a bad life. I had a roof over my head, and my father wasn’t the greatest, but he was mine. It was enough, but I wanted more. I had my chance for more, and I damn well was gonna take it.

  Menace

  “What the hell happened?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “The fuck it is.” I sat there looking at the bruises and cuts on my brother’s knuckles and the gash on his cheek, and it was all I could do to keep myself from completely losing it. I knew Jagger could hold his own. Anyone could see that. At six-five and two-hundred and seventy pounds of pure muscle, the guy was a fucking beast. His dark, shaggy hair had grown long, making him look even more vicious, and with his Ruthless Sinners’ tattoo sprawled across his massive bicep, it was hard to believe anyone would dare to fuck with him. Enraged by the whole damn thing, I slammed my hand down on the table and growled, “This kind of shit isn’t supposed to happen. You’re under club protection!”

  “And that protection comes at a cost.” Jagger remained perfectly calm. “Deluca has put his neck out for me more times than I can count. Last night, it was time for me to return the favor.”

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “I handled it.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, I’m handling things, so stop worrying about it and let it fucking go.” His coal-black eyes grew fierce as he leaned over the table and barked, “And while you’re at it, stop with all the fucking visits, brother. You got a life. Don’t be wasting it by coming out here. Go live it.”

  “Not gonna happen, brother. I’m gonna keep on coming here week after week until you get out of this godforsaken place and don’t say a fucking word about it ’cause we both know you’d do the same for me.”

  Jagger didn’t argue because he knew I was right. He would’ve come to see me as often as he could. That was just the kind of man he was. Jagger had no business being behind bars. He was a good guy who’d found himself in an impossible situation. His sister, Stacey, was a known drug addict and all-around troublemaker, but Jagger always stood by her and helped out any way he could, trying his damnedest to make up for the sins of their mother and father.

  None of us were surprised when she’d gotten herself tied up with a short-fused, loser boyfriend. One night, the two wound up in a heated argument and things got out of hand. Knowing Jagger would come rushing to her rescue, Stacey called her brother, pleading for his help. By the time he’d arrived at her place, Stacey was hysterical. She was covered in cuts and bruises, her lip was busted, and her wrist was broken. Jagger had lost it. He’d laid into the boyfriend and didn’t let up until the guy was no longer breathing. The cops came, and Jagger was arrested for voluntary manslaughter.

  The guy was in a difficult position—one any of us could’ve found ourselves in. Hell, I would’ve done the same fucking thing if Mallory called to tell me she was in trouble. We’d hoped that considering the circumstance, he’d get off a little easier, but after an agonizing hearing, he was sentenced to six years in prison with the opportunity for parole in four. It could’ve been worse, much worse, but I couldn’t stop myself from feeling guilty for not doing more to keep him out of this fucking hellhole altogether.

  Jagger shook his head as he grumbled, “Stubborn ass.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Deciding it was time to change the subject, he asked, “How are things going down at the club?”

  “Good. Busier than ever. So much so, we’ve decided to hire a couple more girls to the lineup.”

  “That’s gotta be tough,” Jagger mocked. “Having to check out all those hot chicks for the guys.”

  “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “You realize you’re saying that to a man who hasn’t seen an ass or a set of tits in almost three years.”

  “Damn.” I grimaced. “Sorry, brother. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I was just fucking with ya.”

  “Yeah, but I know that shit can’t be easy.” Since he opened that door, I used the opportunity to ask, “Have you seen or talked to Sadie lately?”

  Sadie was Jagger’s ol’ lady. They’d been together since high school and were good together. Where he was standoffish and often hard-edged, she was sweet and outgoing. She kept him grounded, and he loved her for that. We all thought they’d end up married with kids and the whole nine yards, but after a few months of Jagger behind bars, they’d called it quits. He’d never admit it, but we all knew it wasn’t an easy decision for him. He loved her, and they could’ve had a real future together, but being in prison changed him. The longer Jagger was locked up, the more closed off he became. He tried to convince himself and everyone else that he no longer wanted any part of the outside world. His face was void of expression when he answered, “You know I haven’t.”

  “Because you pushed her away.”

  “She had no business hanging on to me or to what we had. That shit ended the second I was put behind bars.” Anguish marked his face. “We had a good thing, but it’s over. Been over for a long time. Seeing or talking to her isn’t gonna change that.”

  Before I could say anything more, the guard called out, signaling our time was up. Jagger quickly stood, then bro-slapped my bicep. “Guess that’s my cue. It was good to see ya, brother.”

  “Good to see you too.” When he started to walk awa
y, I called out to him, “Take care of yourself back there, and let us know if you need anything.”

  “You know I will.”

  I waited until he was out of view before going back through security. As soon as I made it out to the parking lot, I got on my bike and headed to Stilettos. I had a long day ahead of me, and I wanted to get an early start on the bar inventory. On the way over, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jagger. I hated that he was stuck in that fucking place when any one of us would’ve done the same thing in his situation. It was a no-win predicament, but I wasn’t giving up. I’d keep at it until I found some way to get him out of there.

  Thoughts of Jagger were still rattling through my head when I pulled up to the back door of the club. I was so out of sorts I didn’t notice Hawk in the parking lot until he called out to me, “Yo, Menace. What are you doing here? I thought you were going out to see Jagger.”

  “I was, and I did.”

  “How was he?”

  “He’s been better.” I unlocked the door. “He was involved in some kind of altercation but wouldn’t tell me much about it. Just that he had it handled.”

  “This something Viper needs to be aware of?”

  “Jagger would say no, but yeah, he needs to know.” Following me inside, I told him, “This thing didn’t directly involve Jagger, but he stepped in. So, like it or not, he’s in it now.”

  “Damn.” Hawk was the club’s sergeant-at-arms. His job was to keep the club and the brothers safe and in order, and to make sure they followed the rules. It was difficult to do that when one of us was behind bars. I could see the concern in his eyes when he said, “I’m about to head back to the clubhouse. I’ll talk to him and see how he wants to handle this.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We walked into my office, and I sat down at my desk while Hawk remained standing and asked, “So, how many girls you planning on hiring this week?”

  “Three or four. Maybe even five. I’m still working on the numbers to figure out just how many we need.”

  “Well, Country and Lynch have volunteered to help out if you need a hand sorting through any of the applicants.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I chuckled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

  “All right, then. I’ll leave you to it.” Before he walked out of my office, he joked. “I gotta say, you really got it made, brother.”

  I wasn’t surprised Hawk felt that way. He wasn’t the only one. Every one of my brothers envied my role at the strip club, but it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. There was a time when a great pair of tits and the provocative sway of woman’s hips would’ve had my dick roaring to life. I’d hammer one out with one chick, then move to the next. It didn’t take long to learn that I wasn’t just looking for strippers with great tits and ass. I also had to find chicks who knew how to dance and had a good head on their shoulders. I didn’t need them bringing all their fucking troubles knocking at our door. Trust me when I say it wasn’t an easy task, but I knew better than to try and convince my brothers of that. I’d just be wasting my breath, so I just did what needed to be done and kept my mouth shut.

  As soon as I got settled at my desk, I started working on the inventory for the bar. I was just starting to make some headway when there was a tap on my office door. I looked up and found Marlowe, who was Rafe’s ol’ lady and one of the club’s new bartenders, standing in front of me with a stack of papers in her hand. “I have a few more applications that you might want to look over.”

  “Thanks.” I took the papers from her hand and dropped them down on my already messy desk. “Give me five minutes; then you can start sending them in.”

  “You got it.”

  She walked out, and after I wrapped up the last of the inventory, I cleaned off my desk and prepared for our first applicant. A few minutes later, Marlowe appeared at the doorway and asked, “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” I reached down and grabbed the first application. After looking at the name, I said, “Go on and send in Jessie.”

  “You got it.”

  Shortly afterward, a cute brunette with a radiant smile and just the right amount of curves walked in. She was wearing the typical short skirt and a bright red tank top that clung to her breasts—the same kind of thing every chick wore when they came into my office. I could tell this wasn’t her first rodeo when she stepped up to my desk, extended her hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Jessie. I’m here about the night dancer-stripper position.”

  I nodded, then motioned my hand towards the chair in front of me. "Have a seat and tell me about what experience you have.”

  “Okay.” She sat down and continued, “I’ve worked at the Pink Pony for almost three years now. I’ve done really well there, but I think it’s time for a change.”

  “Oh, really? And why’s that?”

  “Nothing in particular,” she lied. “I just think it’s time for me to move on.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I should’ve pushed for more information, but I was eager to get this shit done. “You have any priors I need to be aware of?”

  “Nope. I have a clean record. No STDs or psycho boyfriends. I’m in my third semester at Nashville State.” She was cool, calm, and collected. It was clear Jessie was confident in her abilities when she said, “I’m good at what I do, and you won’t regret hiring me.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s see what ya got.”

  Without having to clarify, Jessie got up and started to dance around the room as she slipped her tank over her head, revealing her perfectly round, fake breasts. She swayed her hips in a circular motion while easing her miniskirt down her long tan legs. Jessie was right. This girl was good. I could only imagine what she could do with a pole. When she started to remove her thong, I held up my hand and said, “That’s good. You can stop there.”

  “You sure about that?” A lustful spark flashed through her eyes when she added, “I’ve got other skills you might be interested in.”

  “You won’t be needing those skills here, Jessie. If you get the job, you’ll make plenty of money. You don’t have to—”

  “I know I don’t have to.” She placed the palms of her hands flat against my desk as she leaned forward and purred. “I want to. I think we could have a good time.”

  It was tempting, very tempting, but I looked down at my groin and there was nothing. Not so much as the slightest twitch. Neither of us were interested in sinking into her or any of the other strippers that came into this office. I’d been in a position like this many times before and had made the mistake of taking various women up on their offers. It was fun, but only for the moment. Things inevitably turned out fucking insane. They’d either think it meant more and become a psycho stalker or they’d expect particular privileges ’cause they sucked my dick. I was too old for that kind of shit, so I shook my head and said, “Not gonna happen. Now get dressed, and I’ll call if you make it to the second round.”

  “Second round?”

  “The top four applicants will come back later tonight for a full audition.”

  “Oh, okay.” She quickly got dressed, and on her way out, she said, “Thanks for the opportunity.”

  I nodded, then looked down at my desk in search of the next application and had just picked it up when Marlowe peeked her head inside the doorway. “How’d it go?”

  “Not too bad.” I glanced back at the paper and said, “You can send in…Brittney.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She hadn’t been gone long when Brittney appeared in my doorway. I could tell the moment she stepped into my office she wasn’t eighteen—not even close. I quickly sent her on her way and moved to the next. Like Brittney, I could tell the second she walked in she was a no-go. The chick had two left feet and looked completely stoned. I was starting to get impatient when I told Marlowe to send in Brandy. I went through the same spiel with her that I’d gone through with Jessie, and to my surprise, she’d also been working at the Pink Pony. The same held true for the next girl… and the next. I wasn’t a fan of
taking business from another club, so when Mazie, yet another girl from the Pink Pony, appeared in front of me, I asked, “What’s going on over at the Pink Pony?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. “It’s just time for me to make a change.”

  “Hmm. Your other buddies said the same thing.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms as I pushed, “I’m not buying, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, or we can end this thing right here and now.”

  The young redhead let out a defeated sigh, then said, “It’s Gary. He’s the manager, and I guess you could say he’s been abusing his power.”

  “How’s that?”

  “He has full control of our schedules, so if we want a good shift or any kind of change to the schedule, we have to provide him with certain services.” She sat there in her cropped tank top and barely there skirt, and a look of innocence crossed her face as she admitted, “For some girls, it isn’t a big deal, but for me, it’s a really big deal.”

  “Sounds like Gary is a fucking tool.”

  “Gary is a huge fucking tool, but he’s my boss. I’m kind of stuck with him unless I can find another job.”

  “Well, you and your friends won’t have to worry about that shit anymore.” I placed her application with the other possible candidates, then said, “You can tell the others to be expecting a call back.”

  “Really?”

  “No guarantees, but I’ll do my best to find a place for you all. If not here, somewhere that will do you right.”

  “Thank you so much, Mister—”

  “The name’s Menace, and no need to thank me. At least, not yet.”

  “Well, I appreciate you trying to help.” She grabbed her purse, then skirted over to the door. “I’ll look forward to your call.”

  I was feeling pretty good about things when she walked out of my office. Between Mazie and her other friends from the Pink Pony, we had the shifts covered and were in good shape. I was about to tell Marlowe we could call it a day when a woman appeared in my doorway, and not just any woman. This one wasn’t anything like the girls who’d come in before her. She had the deepest blue eyes, soft porcelain skin, and hair so white it made her look like an angel. She was wearing jeans, a white lace top, and sandals—not the kind of thing you’d expect a woman to wear to a stripper interview. Red flag.