Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (7 page)

She looked at the strippers and gestured to me.

One girl rolled her big green eyes, a yelp leaving her lips when she formed a pout. “Oh, please, Miss Wilder. You really had to bring in this little girl to help herd us like sheep? Nobody's dragged themselves out late more than ten or fifteen minutes this month.”

“That's ten or fifteen too many. You realize how much revenue we lose when men get bored?”

The four aimed the same catty eyes at their boss, but didn't say a word. Meg turned to me, cleared her throat, and pushed a binder into my hands.

“This has everything you'll need to make sure they're prepped and ready. They can stuff their tips in the envelopes inside. Track everything. We need to. We'd have the IRS bringing this place down in a heartbeat if we left it all to them. Good luck! And holler if you need anything.”

Smiling, she headed off with one more wave, her fancy shoes tapping the wooden floor like a train with a few loose wheels disappearing into the night.

The tall, dark, Latin looking woman named Tawny stood up. “Just leave us do our thing, and this'll work out fine. Miss Heels won't do shit if you slack off a little. Hell, she brought you in to keep us in line!”

All the girls laughed, and it echoed all across the stage. I looked at the beat up silver clock hanging over them. We had a few more hours before the place opened up for its first act this evening.

Just enough time to realize I'd been plunged straight into a special kind of hell.

* * * *

W
hen honey didn't work, I tried vinegar.

They ignored me constantly, dragging their stupid, stockinged feet. All the girls spent a few extra minutes smoking and putting on makeup before they even looked at the curtain leading to the stage. Mostly, those bitches just laughed in my face every time I tried to get them going.

Annabelle, the skinny brunette with a club-shaped tramp stamp on her left ass cheek, tried to sneak her tips by me in her bra. She had the cash halfway out and stuffed into her purse before I said anything.

“What?! Stop looking at me like I'm a fucking thief, you little shit,” the stripper swore. “Here's your damned money!”

She shoved it into my hands so hard I nearly lost my balance. Before I could so much as shoot her a dirty look, the skank stormed off, a smug little smile dragging on her over-painted lips.

Resisting the urge to run outside and cry, I channeled it into doing my work instead.

No, no, damn it, no.

I had to stay. I couldn't break down on my very first day. Not if I ever wanted to escape this hell forever, and never look back.

“Okay, Tawny, it's your turn,” I said, walking up to her with my fakest smile.

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, bossy-pants.” She smiled into the mirror, plucking at her eyelashes.

Scowling at her wouldn't do it. I wanted to rip her lashes off with my bare hands.

“Tawny, come on. Let's get this done. Please.”

That was when my brain completely shut down for the evening. I must've stood there begging the bitch to get out and do her job. Overhead, the clock ticked by while she preened.

Twenty minutes and counting past the time when her act should've started. Past the stage, people were getting so restless I could hear it through the curtain, men shuffling around and swearing to themselves.

I was about to start shouting when she yawned. I watched her stand, jerking off her fluffy pink robe. “Well, guess I'd better do a little work today. I've got at least another dance or two in these bones. Don't stress too much, little C. I won't try to sneak a dime past you on my way back here.”

She flashed me a wink and tottered toward the stage on her high golden shoes.

Fuck it. Done.
That's what I was, and then some.

I crashed out the nearest fire exit and buried my face in my hands, repressing bitter tears while I gulped cool mountain air. It was the only thing that saved me that night from a total meltdown. I stayed out there for ages before I dragged myself in, hoping the cool breeze dried the tears on my cheeks.

Somehow, I blundered on, making the same pathetic pleas.

Chasing them for tips. Feeling more powerless than I ever had in my life, including the last few days when I'd been boxed up in Firefly's room.

My torture lasted two more hours, and the girls walked all over me. When Meg came around to fetch me and let me know my shift was done, the lukewarm smile on her face said it all.

“Hey, don't be too discouraged. These girls are tough. I'm sorry I downplayed it earlier, I didn't want you to panic. We've been having trouble getting them to move since the Heel opened. Give it a week. Get your bearings. You'll figure it all out.”

I wanted to quit right on the spot. But then she pressed a small envelope into my hands. My fingers reached in, pulled out a crisp hundred paired with a fifty.

More than I'd expected. Especially for the painful hack job I'd done tonight.

“All under the table, of course,” she said. “Skin normally keeps things kosher with payroll here, but he says the Prez told him nobody needs to know you're working here. Firefly's on his way to take you home. See you tomorrow, Cora.”

“Y-you too,” I stammered, but she'd already left me alone.

I'd never earned that much in a single day at my crappy summer jobs or internships in uni. Too bad I wanted to chuck the money down the nearest toilet, or burn every filthy dollar earned in this twisted job I'd never asked for.

Outside, Firefly was waiting. “How'd it go, darlin'?”

“First day woes. It only gets better from here, right?”

Jesus, please tell me
yes.
It had to.

Hell,
I had
to keep it all together. I wasn't going to give this arrogant bastard one more ounce of my tears.

I definitely wasn't going to open up to him.

“Damned straight.” He must've had a sixth sense.

I'd expected a barrage of stupid questions, or crude jokes aimed at my heart, the whole ride to the clubhouse. Instead, he barely said a word, leaving me to my stone cold silence.

He didn't even chase me down when we arrived and I headed straight for my room. Later, there was a heavy knock on the door. It took me at least five minutes to come out of the sick grog from the heavy sleep I'd fallen into the second I buried my face in his beat up pillows.

I padded to the door, wishing he'd gotten whatever crap he wanted to throw at me out of the way earlier. I opened the door.

Nobody there. Just a small white bag at my feet and a tall bottle wrapped up in brown paper.

I looked around, didn't see anybody, and reached down to gather them up. The white bag came from the same deli that fed me all my meals these days. I sat with the bottle in my lap, tore through the paper, and pulled out a nice, thick bottle of wine.

The sticky note attached had the sloppiest handwriting I'd ever seen, but I could make it out.

You're too damned classy for beer, so here's something better. Hope you like red. Sorry, don't know shit about wine. Man at the store said it was solid. Glass is in the bag.

Here's to a better life, or just something to take the fucking edge off.

-Firefly

I didn't realize I was hugging the bottle until I finally moved. I must've drank half of it with my meal before I crashed again, sleeping with a stupid, unexpected smile on my lips.

Nobody had done anything so nice for me since I'd graduated high school, when daddy had a huge German chocolate cake lined up for me and all my friends. The same kind momma used to bake.

The wine was decent, but it wasn't anything amazing. It didn't matter.

That stupid bottle of red with the fake French branding made me happier than the money I'd left crumpled in my pants pocket.

Somebody actually cared. Somebody who spent his days drinking, cursing, and probably chasing the first girl he saw who made his dick stand up.

Maybe there was a little of that here, too. I couldn't just ignore the hot promises in his eyes each time he looked at me. But so what?

I slipped off feeling toasty and loved.

Even if it was an illusion, and only an illusion, it was the one I
needed
just then. The only one that gave me a shred of hope I'd survive another day at the Ruby Heel.

* * * *

F
or three more days, I kept it together. A tiny glass of wine after work every day helped.

That last little taste, I snuck before leaving for my fourth shift. It only went so far. I'd thanked Firefly for the wine, but I'd been too afraid to say more, scared of letting him see how much he'd really touched me with the crazy surprise.

Meg flipped me to nights, a time that was a little busier. She swore up and down the girls would have more incentive to move, seeing how they made their best tips right between ten and two in the morning.

Men were at their drunkest, their horniest, and their neediest just then. So far, the night crew consisted of three girls I hadn't worked with before – and they were just as bitchy as the evening crew.

All of them talked. They knew I was a pushover before the night even began.

A blonde in her late twenties with fake boobs and a couple inches on me named Trig was up next. Rather, she should've been on the stage getting naked ten  minutes ago.

Instead, she sat backstage, taking messy sips off some cheap gin she'd snuck in her purse when she'd showed up about an hour ago.

I clenched my teeth, circling her like a vulture. “You should really put that down. Club rules say no drugs, no cigarettes, and no drinks before your act. It's a big liability to have that stuff in your system when you're up there on stage.”

“Oh, you again?” Trig threw her hair back and nasty laughter bellowed out her throat. “Corral or whatever the fuck your name is –
shut up.
I've done this act a zillion times with this stuff kissing my veins. Makes the time go by faster. I don't tell you how to do your job, and you don't need to say shit about mine. Don't know what Meg was thinking when she brought you in. I've seen girls younger and prettier than you who'd do a better job of –“

Shut up? SHUT UP?!

My brain went straight to my hands. Before I knew what was happening, I lunged, and my nails dug deep against the stripper's perfumed scalp. I yanked her hair with my fingers so hard I thought I'd rip it right out.

The bitch screamed. Loud. My eardrums were about one octave away from busting.

I let out a growl, whipping her around with all my strength when she stood up and tried to fight back.

Two other girls backstage started hollering. Luckily, they didn't interfere, just stood there pointing and laughing while Trig got the jump on me and flattened me against the ground.

I went down kicking and scratching. No more nice girl.

She clawed at my face with her long extensions. They were sharper than they looked. I screamed, found her wrist with my teeth, and bit hard. Never stopping until I tasted blood.

Her pain howled through the thick curtain separating us from the stage, and I could hear the commotion out there rising.

Ever since I'd shown up here, I'd been abused, brushed off, and scorned by these dumb girls who probably had half the brain cells I did to rub together.

Whatever, brains wouldn't help me now. I fought with all my strength, rolling and snarling while the other girls screams grew louder.

I didn't realize how far we'd moved until men were jeering all around us. We'd wrestled right through the curtain, out onto stage, and now we were tonight's latest act.

The hot spotlight burned my eyes. Mostly, I just saw red as Trig's dark silhouette sat on my chest, slapping me across the face over and over again.

Something unnatural tore through my veins, a demon energy pounding in my chest.

I'm already in too deep, and I'm NOT losing. Fuck you, bitch.

I opened my mouth, knew I was screaming bloody murder, but I couldn't hear anything except my own heart pounding in my temples. Sheer adrenaline tensed my muscles, giving me superhuman strength.

I screamed and screamed, pushing her with all my weight. A second later, she was off me, and then I jumped all over her.

Men roared louder, drowning us out. One guy tried to climb on the stage.

“Fucking hell, look at these bimbos go!”

“Why the hell's the little one still got her damned clothes on?”

“Cat-Fight! Cat-Fight! Cat-Fight!”

I gave the stripper's hair another raging pull. I would've done it this time, torn her stupid locks straight out of her head – if only somebody else hadn't yanked on mine.

Frozen, I looked up.

For a second, I swore I'd started hallucinating. Firefly hauled me up into his monstrous arms, threw me over his shoulder, and headed backstage.

“Don't you dare break this up, you bastard!” I snarled, talking through the pain still rattling through my teeth. “Don't. You. Dare!”

I pounded his back, cursing up a storm, catching one more glimpse of Skin and a couple other big bikers shuttling Trig through the throngs of screaming drunks.

“Let me go, damn you! Don't you know the other bitch started it?”

“Babe, I don't give a fuck. Right now, I've had it up to
here
with your shit. Any more, and your hot little ass is gonna feel the sunny side of my hand.”

My shit?
If he didn't have such a strong hold on me, I'd have whipped around and slapped him across the face.

Harder than I'd ever done it before. I wanted to hurt him, just like the past week had torn at me, no matter how insane it seemed.

I didn't care if he made good on his promises to pull my pants down and spank me.

Didn't care if it would've boiled my blood so hot it came pouring out my ears.

Jesus, I didn't fucking care if I'd have loved every second of it. Didn't care if it distracted me from the lunatic anger quaking through my body, imagining his violent hands slapping my ass as red as the neon lights in the club.

Nothing else mattered except finding Trig and finishing what we'd started!

I was still kicking when he put me down. I touched my lip, wincing when I felt the big cut I'd gotten from one of the bitch's punches, and hoped to holy God the skank wasn't carrying any diseases.