by Addison Jane
We stood outside for probably fifteen minutes before a large bouncer with a bald head and a piece of paper in his hand wandered down the line. His eyes kept moving between the people in line and whatever was written on his notepad, his brow pulled together in a hard focus frown. He stopped beside us, his eyes taking me in with curiosity before moving to Ashley. She tightened her hand on my arm and the nerves in my stomach began to expand like there were rockets shooting off inside.
Had we been found out already?
“Come on, girls.” The bouncer nodded, lifting the rope for us and holding out his hand, directing us to the front door. Nervously, we both followed his directions, but I was almost ready to run until I saw him move down the line a little more and pick another blonde and brunette and do the same for them.
“They’re just trying to fill the club with hot girls,” Ashley noted in relief as we clomped toward the doors, another bouncer guiding us inside without even bothering to check our IDs.
The bass was loud and deep, and I could feel the hard beat right down in my stomach making it hard to catch my breath. Sweat instantly formed on my skin, the temperature inside the club off the charts with all the writhing and grinding bodies filling the space.
“I’m gonna go this way, just have a look around,” Ashley yelled, cupping her hands around my ear. “I’ll meet you back here in an hour to check in.”
I held up a thumb and watched her walk away, her hips swaying and her shoulders back like she had all the confidence and drive in the world.
All I wanted to do, though, was find a quiet place somewhere and hide. This wasn’t me, this wasn’t what I did. I hated lies, I hated deception, and I didn’t really care what it was this club was meant to have done to Crow, I knew deep down in my gut that he deserved everything that was coming at him.
He was afraid.
And you know what?
God did it make me feel good to know that man could feel fear.
He deserved to feel fear. Even just the smallest amount, even if only for a second, a part of me hoped that the Brothers by Blood MC was bigger, better, scarier, and more dangerous than Red Riot. I hoped they didn’t let Crow and his band of merry assholes get away with rolling through life like they were kings when they were merely little fucking boys playing dress up.
“Excuse me?” There was a tap on my shoulder, and I spun around to find a sweet girl with bright pink hair and a wide grin holding out a drink. “Your presence has been requested upstairs in the VIP area.”
I shook my head, my brow knitting together. “By who?”
She turned and pointed over her shoulder to the second level inside the already massive building. Half of the level was open to the rest of the club with a handful of people standing at the railing looking down on the partygoers. It seemed much quieter, less crazy up there which my body and my mind yearned for.
Then I saw a familiar face.
The guy from the bar.
He smirked and raised his glass at me before nodding to the waitress who was now holding out an orange drink which I assumed was some kind of cocktail.
I took it tentatively. “What’s up there?”
The waitress followed my gaze. “Tonight it’s for the MC members and their friends only. The guy who’s staring at you, he’s a good guy. You should go and say hi.”
The exploding rockets that had been firing inside my stomach earlier were now replaced with butterflies.
I couldn’t deny the way I’d been drawn to him at the bar a couple days ago, the way I wanted to be near him, the way his fingertips felt against my skin, and then how he’d slipped his phone number into my pocket thinking he was going to get me out of this hell hole.
At least, the one thing I knew was that for those few moments I was around him, I smiled, I laughed, and I felt something other than self-loathing.
For those few moments, I felt maybe he saw me differently. As more than just a whore or a piece of ass.
I battled with myself for a few minutes, then I remembered the girl saying that the VIP tonight was reserved for the MC members and their family. Was he family? Was he a friend of theirs? It would make sense since he talked like he knew them.
I needed to be close to them. So, I needed to be up on that next level.
He was going to get me there, that’s why I was taking him up on his offer, not because he was a good-looking guy or because I wanted to see if what I’d felt for the first time was a fluke.
Yeah, that’s it.
That’s what I’d tell anyone who asked.
So I threw back the drink—the entire contents in one go.
Fuck it.
KENNEDY
The bouncers at the bottom of the stairs let me pass by quickly.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he called from the top of the staircase as I made my way up.
His voice was almost soothing. I knew it would sound stupid if I voiced it out loud, but I suddenly felt more comfortable—safer maybe—because he was there, and I felt like I already knew him.
Yeah, like we were now friends because we’d had a five-minute interaction at a bar two days ago.
“You look lost.” He smirked as he walked toward me, his eyes holding mine, not drifting or flickering for a single second even though I knew it must have been hard because my breasts were barely being contained in this dress, and it was so tight I could hardly breathe.
My body slumped, and I nodded, about to make some joke about how that was the story of my life, until I noticed the way the club lights shone against his leather cut. A club cut. One that had a patch across the front that read Enforcer.
My heart jumped up into my throat, and the loud bass of the music that had been vibrating through the air around us seemed to suddenly become background noise.
He took another step forward, and I took one back in response.
Big mistake.
My heel failed to find anything flat given that I was right at the edge of the staircase. I gasped and dropped my empty glass as I scrambled to reach for the banister.
My glass shattered.
I missed the banister completely.
But I didn’t fall.
A large hand wrapped around my slim wrist and tugged my body in the other direction, forcing me to stumble and fall into him, my forehead instantly dropping to rest against his chest as I fought to gather my wits.
“Fucking Christ,” he cursed under his breath, his entire body tight and tense. “That’s a good way to break your damn neck.”
“Holy shit.” I chuckled softly, but it was shaky and sounded weird. “You’re quick.”
“I’m used to women trying to run away at the sight of me,” he joked in my ear, but I could hear the serious edge. He knew who I was. He knew who I was with. And he sure as hell knew that it couldn’t be a coincidence I was in this nightclub.
“Hey,” another gruff voice interrupted, a momentary reprise from the thick and swirling tension. “Are you guys all right? Be careful, there’s glass all over the stairs.”
“Oh, my fucking God,” I gasped suddenly, trying to pull away, but he grabbed my wrist and placed another hand on my hip. The more I struggled, the tighter he held me. “I need to get out of here.”
My mind was beginning to catch up with what the hell was going on, and I was instantly very aware of the fact that I was being held in the arms of a member of the MC I was sent here to deceive and destroy.
“She’s bleeding, Repo,” a softer female voice said with concern, pulling my gaze to the side to find a beautiful young woman with dark hair staring at me with concern. I stopped struggling, and leaned to the side, looking down. The lights in the club weren’t great, but I could see a very vivid trail of blood running down my leg and over the edge of my shoe onto the floor. “Bring her over to the booth, I’ll get the first aid kit.”
“No, it’s—” Before I could finish, my feet suddenly left the ground, and I was swept up into two strong arms. He cradled me across the floor, and even ove
r the music, I could hear the crunch of glass under his heavy boots. “This is completely unnecessary. I’m fine.”
He set me on the edge of a round table which was in the corner of the space, then placed his hands on either side of my thighs. “Humor me,” he deadpanned and leaned in really close. He smelled like leather and a shot of whiskey, maybe a hint of aftershave. I wanted to lick my lips, almost sure that if I did, I’d be able taste him on my tongue. The booth was a little more private, and for some reason, the music didn’t seem as loud. Almost like they’d built it up for that purpose.
His eyes moved over my shoulder. “Move.” A couple of guys also wearing club cuts scooted out of the booth within seconds of the order being given. No groaning, no bitching, one even dipped his head at me in greeting as he slipped past.
It was like with every polite gesture, they were taking the guilt that I could already feel sitting like a heavyweight in my throat, and they were forcefully shoving it harder and deeper, hoping that I fucking choked on it.
“My name’s Repo,” that deep, gruff tone announced. The same one I was finding myself quickly becoming addicted to. It was too goddamn deep, too sexy, and far too fucking smooth to be coming from him. I knew the ins and outs of patches. I knew what each one meant and what each man had to have done in order to wear them.
Enforcer.
Well, fuck!
You didn’t earn that kind of title by being soft. You were the guy who made sure every other asshole followed the rules. You made sure anyone who had business with the club played and paid their part. And you were the one who made sure that if they didn’t—they regretted it.
“I didn’t catch your name the other day,” he continued when I didn’t reply right away. He leaned in, propping his hip against the table and folding his arms across his chest.
“Because I didn’t give it to you,” I snapped defensively, trying not to focus on the way my heart rate spiked, and my body warmed with him near.
He chuckled. The sound was soft and subtle. “You gotta give me something, pretty girl,” Repo appealed, still sounding amused. And I couldn’t really blame him given that he had the upper hand here, and I was pretty sure he was about to play his cards. “My president still don’t realize you’re the girl I met at the bar a couple days ago. The second he does, he’s gonna want to know what the fuck you’re doing in our nightclub. And I’m thinking he and I are probably gonna come to the same conclusion.”
I wanted to fucking vomit.
At this point, I was done, either fucking way.
If these guys didn’t hurt me to get what they needed, then Crow was going to just straight up kill me for letting them figure out who I was. I didn’t know what to do.
My body suddenly felt very numb, and my flight instincts were beginning to kick in. My hands gripped the edge of the table, and I kept my eyes focused on the small amount of people who moved around the VIP area we were in, trying to figure out how the hell I was going to get out of there and fast, and at the same time, refusing to look at Repo and let him see just how fucking petrified I was.
Most of the men were wearing club cuts, but I was starting to notice that not all of them were the same. There were two different clubs in here which instantly surprised me. I couldn’t tell if the girls were staff or old ladies or whores. Most of them seemed friendly with each other, and the guys in the room chatted with them playfully.
“I can call him over if you want,” Repo prodded, forcing my head to move on its own account, the fear already taking over my muscles. It moved from side to side before I looked up into his eyes, the piercing blues that I was searching for were hidden beneath a heavy frown and a stern glare. The playful tone was gone, and he was completely serious.
And I didn’t doubt that Repo was a man who didn’t have a problem getting what he wanted from people. Especially if the name was anything to go by.
“Don’t.”
“Okay, let’s start with a name then,” he urged. We still had to talk louder than normal to hear each other, but it felt as though our conversation was very intimate, especially with how close his body was to mine.
“Here, Repo,” the girl with the dark hair from before rushed over with a small package. In this different light I could see now that her hair was a really deep, dark purple. It was stunning. She smiled and placed the package on the table beside me. “My name’s Meyah, I hope you’re okay. Do you need me to take a look?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Repo cut in, “It’s fine, princess. I can manage.”
Her eyes moved to the small space between us, and she smiled and nodded.
Refusing to let him speak for me, I reached out and touched her arm before she could pull away. “I’m really sorry for my clumsiness. Let me know if there is something I can pay for or replace.”
She looked over her shoulder and shook her head. “Oh, no way! Accidents happen. I’m just glad Repo was there, and you didn’t fall all the way down the stairs,” she explained very seriously. “Right place, right time, I guess. Maybe it was meant to be.” The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile, her eyes once again flicking between us.
“You done, princess?” Repo growled deeply as he leaned over me and snatched up the small first-aid kit.
“I don’t have to be,” she pushed, tilting her head to the side and fluttering her eyelashes.
“Shake!” Repo called over his shoulder, my eyes following the direction and spotting a young guy at the bar turn and look over his shoulder. “Come get your woman.”
The guy I assumed was Shake climbed off his barstool with a smirk and sauntered toward us. Meyah, on the other hand, stood her ground and shook her head at Repo in amusement. “Tattletale.”
“Leave the man alone, Meyah,” Shake warned, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her body back against his.
Meyah pursed her lips and spun around in his arms, her mouth moving but her voice lowered, so I couldn’t make out the words. For the first time, it gave me a good look at the patch across the front of his cut.
Vice President.
Fucking excellent.
Shake shook his head. “I said leave the man alone, Meyah,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows at her pointedly. “Ain’t none of your business.” It took a few moments before she finally gave in, but she was going to let him know all about it later on, I could tell.
The girl had sass and determination. I could appreciate the strength I saw in her eyes, but also the respect she obviously had for her old man.
She spun on her heel, huffing out an annoyed breath. “It was nice to meet you…”
Her words hung in the air, and instinctively, I filled in the dead space. “Kennedy. My name’s Kennedy.”
Meyah’s smile brightened just a little, and I ignored the smug winning look from Repo as he stepped in between us and started pulling shit out of the kit and placing it on the table. She waved before allowing Shake to lead her across to the bar.
“So, Kennedy…” Repo started, clearly amused. “How ‘bout I clean up this leg, and you fill me in on why you’re here.”
Fuck!
REPO
I took her ankle in my hands, hooking off her six-inch heel and placing it on the table beside her.
“I can do it,” she protested, but I completely ignored her. Partially because I knew what the hell I was doing, and I wanted to make sure that the cut wasn’t as serious as it looked with the amount of blood dripping down her leg. And partially because I wanted an excuse to fucking touch her.
“I’ll do it, you talk,” I ordered before adding, “This might hurt.” I grabbed an antibacterial wipe and swiped it across the area where the blood seemed to be coming from. She cringed and pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. “Sorry,” I murmured, wiping over it again gently and trying not to destroy the clot that had begun to build.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table tightly, but not a single noise left her mouth.
I got down on one knee, making su
re to clean the entire blood trail that ran from the cut just below her knee all the way to her ankle. “I’m waiting,” I urged, my eyes looking up to her. Kennedy was watching me cautiously. She was confused, couldn’t quite work out what the hell was going on given she was an intruder, and I wasn’t dragging her into a back room and beating the life out of her.
“What…” she started before clearing her throat. “What do you want me to say?”
I reached up and grabbed the antibacterial cream from the table. “How about you start with how you got involved with Red Riot?” I asked her, running my hand up the back of her calf to her knee and tilting her leg to the side, so I could get a good look at the cut in the light and make sure I wasn’t missing any others.
It wasn’t as bad as it seemed to be, probably just a broken piece of glass flicking up off the ground when it shattered.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” she answered, my ears just barely able to pick up the soft tone.
She turned her body allowing me to twist her just slightly. Her short dress rode up her thigh, and the light for a second caught some strange marks on the backs of her legs. I frowned, instinctively reaching up higher, wanting to examine them.
Her hand instantly reached for the hem of her skirt, tugging at it to pull it down and tugging her leg from my grasp at the same time. “Stop,” she snapped, leaping off the edge of the table and onto the floor.
I pushed off the floor, climbing to my feet, feeling my blood start to boil just slightly.
My family always said I was a protector.
I’d done some shitty things in my time on this earth, but every damn one of them had been to look after the people I cared about or to protect them from being hurt. I didn’t know Kennedy from a fucking bar of soap. But every alert and alarm bell in my head right now was ringing and screaming at me to fucking do something about this.
There’s no way in hell a sweet girl like her should be anywhere fucking near a club like Red Riot, and she sure as hell was smart enough to know that being in here doing their snooping and dirty work was a good fucking way to get herself killed.
