Scarred Asphalt

by Blue Remy

  Thorne decided to be nice and grabbed another beer for him. With a waltz in her step, she headed toward the living room just as he threw his keys on the hallway table. She lifted up her hand, dangling the beer out to him when she leaned against the corner of the entry way.

  “Not fucking cool, Thorne.” Dalton glared at her, turning away from her and stalking toward the living room to flop down on the couch.

  Thorne winced, having forgotten that he was not allowed to drink while he was on lock down. “Dalton…” She followed him into the living room and plopped down next to him, still offering up the beer. “It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.”

  His face split into a wide grin, a slight nudge to her arm with his elbow. “Thorne Lopez is contributing to the delinquency of a near parolee? What the fuck is this world coming to?”

  Thorne found it impossible not to return his disarming smile. “Yeah, well, just don’t tell anyone, and I think we’ll be okay.”

  Dalton took the bottle from her, but she could tell there was something off in his demeanor by the distracted nod that he gave her.

  “What’s wrong, Dalton?”

  His sensual lips made an unpleasant twist as he stared at the bottle before he took a long swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, let out a loud belch followed by a sardonic chuckle. “Shit at work.”

  “What kind of shit?”

  “The ex kind of shit.”

  Thorne’s brows shot up, too surprised to do more than nod. Her last run in with Gabby wasn’t exactly the best kind of interaction. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “She got hired on at Throttle.”

  Thorne was taking a drink of her own beer when he dropped the bomb on her. She almost choked, jerking forward to cough up the liquid that went down the wrong pipe. “Wha—what?” she managed to gasp out while she wiped at her tear-filled eyes.

  “Fucking Styx hired her on because she told him that she was my ol’ lady. I argued with him to fire her, but he refuses to listen. Says she brings in too much business on the weekends to fire her.”

  She heard the distinct mockery in his voice when he explained what had happened. “Try talking to Romeo?”

  “Yup.”

  “Hmm.” Thorne slowly nodded, tucking an errant strand behind her ear as she turned her head to face him.

  “She has pissed off every fucking female in the club. She disrespects them and has told everyone that I’m hers. She even had a standoff with the twins.”

  Like she knew who the fuck the twins were? Not that she really even cared, but it was obvious that Dalton did, so that meant something. “Go off on her then.”

  “Been there, done that. Hasn’t worked yet. In fact, it’s pretty much made it worse. It’s like she can’t get enough of making my life a living hell.”

  Thorne was taken a bit off guard by how easily he accepted that his ex was working at the club. Maybe a little too easily. “You seem to be taking all of this in stride.”

  He gave her a brutal and unfriendly stare, the ultra-marine colored eyes lit with sudden anger. “In stride? The fuck you say.” His curt voice lashed out at her as he leaned forward toward her. “I used to love going to work. Now? I don’t want to take a fucking step outside that door. All I want to do is wrap my fucking hands around her throat and squeeze the life right out of her for making my life miserable. If Muerte finds out that she is working as a stripper, he’ll flip his shit. But it will get worse because it’s a SixGun establishment.

  “I can’t stress that enough, Thorne.” Dalton set his elbows on his knees, emotions crashing through his eyes like tidal waves washing upon the shores. Now they were pleading, almost as if he were begging her to understand. “After what they did the other night? This will be the icing on the cake if they find out.”

  The strain in his voice tugged at her heart strings. She wasn’t too sure about the inner-workings of club life, even with Hawkeye being her uncle. Maggie was more into the bad boys, not Thorne.

  “Get in the truck.” Thorne’s voice was firm, final.

  Perfectly arched brows shot up at her demand. “A little bit of redneck foreplay?”

  Thorne pushed up from the couch and set her bottle on top of the coffee table. Her fists fell to her hips when she straightened up, which jutted her hip out and to the left, allowing her to tap her booted foot impatiently. “Go get in the truck, Dalton Kilpatrick. Now.”

  Dalton threw up both hands in defense, though one was still holding his beer bottle. He set it on the table then rose up. His eyes met her gaze. “What are you doing, Thorne?”

  “You’ll see.”

  She had already had enough of the bullshit and she just met the bitch a couple weeks back. It was already too much drama in her life and she liked her life drama free. Not like housing a possible felon didn’t have its drama, but now that a psycho ex-girlfriend was added to the mix?

  Thorne scooped her keys off the foyer table, opened the front door, and motioned for Dalton to walk out before her. “After you, sweet cheeks.”

  * * * *

  The trip to the club was quiet. Thorne didn’t have much to say, and if she said anything at the moment, it might be taken as her creating a hostile environment. The more she thought about Gabrielle Velasquez, the madder she got.

  Every bitch in the city got their panties wet when Dalton walked into a room. They all but orgasmed when he noticed them. Then they pretty much passed the fuck out when he smiled or spoke to them. But Gabby was taking this stalker she-bitch thing a little too far.

  Thorne had known girls like Gabby her whole life and she knew how to handle them. Show them who the real bitch was. Gabby hadn’t figured out who she was yet, but when the light clicked, it was going to get ghetto up in there.

  “You’re fucking kidding me?” Dalton looked at her like she had grown two heads when they pulled into the parking lot of Throttle Boss.

  “Does it look like I’m laughing?” Thorne stared straight at Dalton, not in the mood for his dominant side at the moment. “If the bitch won’t listen to you, she’s obviously loco. It’s time a woman steps in and tells her to move the fuck on.”

  Dalton shook his head, a tiny movement allowed him to adjust in the seat to get a better look at Thorne. “I’m not hiding behind your skirt, Thorne. You go in there, I’m gonna look like a fucking pussy that needs a kitten to handle my shit.”

  “It’s a good thing this kitten sharpened her claws then, huh?” Thorne gave Dalton a smile, not caring that it probably didn’t come close to meeting the dead pan gaze. She opened the Tahoe’s door and jumped out, then slammed it behind her, not waiting for Dalton to follow.

  Just as she reached the front doors, the bouncer lifted his hand to chest level, stopping Thorne from waltzing on in. Her eyes dropped to the hand then rose back up to look at the guard.

  She was about to smart off to him, but was rudely cut off by Dalton, who was jogging up to them. “Let her in, Willy. She’s here on business.”

  Glad to see he saw the error in his thought process.

  Thorne never acknowledged Dalton as she stepped inside the club. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the neon and dim lighting, but she was taken aback by the layout and style of Throttle Boss.

  The club was laid out different than any of the normal strip clubs she had seen. There was your main stage at the far wall, but there were tinier stages throughout the club with chairs surrounding the circular platform for the men—or women—to sit and drink. The color scheme was blues, purples, and pinks; soft, warm, and welcoming. What wasn’t done in chrome was done in gloss black and there was Harley memorabilia everywhere. It felt like a mix of burlesque meets biker, and it worked.

  Impressed, Thorne nodded to herself, already scoping out where the crazy bitch was. It was busy for a Thursday night, or so she thought. There were plenty of men milling around, though their main focus was on the center stage as the DJ announced the next dancer.

&nbs
p; Oh, goody goody gum drop.

  “Thorne.” Dalton’s voice held warning in it. “Behave.”

  Well, now wasn’t that a party foul?

  She turned to face him, perplexed at his sudden need to dictate what she would do. “I’m sorry. Are you my dad? No? Okay then. You have no right to be telling me shit, let alone to behave.”

  Thorne almost felt a moment of guilt when Dalton visibly winced at her verbal attack. Almost. Watching Gabby take the stage was quite the show in itself. She knew how to work the men, Thorne would give her that much. Each sway of her hips and slight glance toward a male caught their attention, and when she showed a touch of skin? She had them eating out of the palm of her hand.

  Bravo.

  The whore knew how to sell herself.

  It was a fleeting thought that made her snicker to herself, but the idea of getting up on the stage and showing the Latina up was a definite possibility. It wouldn’t be hard by the looks of it either. Gabby didn’t know how to move in fluid motions, her moves were jerky and forced, but the men were eating it up. Thorne knew the routine. Gabby was new and she would be old news in a week or two, unless she started offering blow jobs on the side while giving lap dances.

  Just by watching her dance, Thorne wondered how she was in bed. Couldn’t have been very good with the little range of movement that she has. But, considering how dominant Dalton was, the female didn’t have to move much in order to get hers. He did all the work.

  Feeling the heat hit her cheeks at the memory of the gym escapade, Thorne cleared her throat as Gabby ended her set. “Thank God that’s over. I can go scrub my eyeballs with bleach now.”

  Before Dalton could get a word in edgewise, Thorne had left him and was finding her way through the crowd to the place she had seen Gabby disappear. It had to be the way into the back. The sounds of female voices over the bass of the music that blared was a pretty good indication that Thorne was in the right place.

  B-I-N-G-O.

  “Everyone out.” Authority reared its ugly head as her voice deepened with the command.

  It worked. Everyone but Gabby and the two identical twins that Thorne assumed were Star and Cinnamon vamoosed.

  “Are you working here, too, Scarface?” Gabby looked up into her light studded mirror as she picked up a perfume container.

  Thorne laughed as she stalked toward Gabby. She could see how her own eyes had taken on a darker hue, stormy and full of violence that needed to be unleashed. “Wow, if that is all you have for insults, Velasquez, you do not need to have a battle of the wits with me. You’ll lose.”

  “Well, why else would you be here? I’m sure with you looking like the bride of Frankenstein, this would be the only place you’d be able to get laid.” Gabby’s smug visage met Thorne’s fury head on. “Then again, the local freak show just left town. You must have missed the memo.”

  Yeah, there was no behaving.

  Thorne lashed out to tangle her fingers into the curls of the bitch and lifted. The movement forced Gabby to come straight up and out of her chair with a squeal of pain, her tiny hands beating at Thorne’s grip. Thorne gave the girl no time for thought as she spun Gabby around, and invaded right into Gabby’s personal space as she snarled, “Are you sure you want to give Dalton that blow job now, puntha? If you do, at least tell me what my pussy tastes like on his dick.”

  That hit home. Thorne saw something flicker behind the dark eyes of the Latina right before they narrowed and she bared her teeth in sheer rage.

  “Fuck you.”

  Thorne stepped back laughing. “Oh no, Dalton does a great job of that all on his lonesome. This is your last warning, Gabby. He’s mine. Back the fuck off or there’ll be more than just words next time.”

  Gabby let loose a high pitched laugh, alerting Thorne that the girl was nervous as well as angry, and that could very well be a bad combination if Thorne didn’t play it out right.

  “Yours? In your wet dreams, bitch. Why the fuck would he want a two bit, scarred up, bull-dyke-looking muscle head like you, when he could have a princess like me?”

  “You mean the has-been you are?” Thorne smirked as her voice lowered to emphasize her words. “You’re a has-been, Gabrielle, always have been. That’s why me, the muscle-head bull dyke, kicked your ass out of office in the Elks Rodeo Queen competition, and that’s why your man is in my bed nightly and not yours. I don’t know what fantasy world you fucking live in, but sweetie…” Thorne rested her hand on Gabby’s shoulder, ignoring the girl’s trembling lips as well as the tears of anger that were welling up in her eyes. “You need to wake up and join us in the real world. Giving blow jobs in the back room isn’t a career that’ll last very long, doll. You’re just the flavor of the week until something better and fresher comes along.”

  Thorne could feel Dalton’s eyes on her, but she was not going to slip up and turn her attention away from the she-bitch. That would be a fatal mistake. And Thorne couldn’t have been more right.

  Gabby lost some brain cells and gave the tell.

  It was an easy tell. Thorne saw the fire light in her eyes, felt her shift in weight under the hand that still lay on Gabby’s shoulder. Just as Gabby lifted her right hand and pulled back to swing, Thorne was already moving back.

  When Gabrielle’s fist swung forward, Thorne was just back enough that all she had to do was lean back. The Latina missed her by a mile, though Thorne thought her ear drums might shatter from the piercing shriek of acrimony.

  As the fist passed by her face, Thorne’s left hand rose up to clasp her fingers around her wrist. Using Gabrielle’s momentum against her, Thorne spun her around so the girl’s back was to Thorne’s front. Then she lifted the girls arm up just enough to put her into an arm-bar. This gave Thorne the opportunity to hook her arm around the Latina’s throat and latch onto her other arm, cutting off all air to her lungs.

  Thorne growled as she spun the pair around, allowing Gabrielle to get a good look at Dalton. “Take a good look, you fake piece of shit. It’ll be your last. Stay the fuck away from him or…” Thorne tightened her hold on Gabrielle, as she tried to ignore the nails that were clawing at her forearm. “I will bring my foot so far up in your ass, your grandchildren will still be tasting leather. I can’t make you quit, but I sure as fuck can make your life a living hell. And trust me, sweetheart, I’m fucking good at it.”

  As Thorne all but tossed the nearly passed out Gabby away from her like a rag doll, her eyes met the storm filled gaze of Dalton’s. He was a difficult read, but she swore she saw a hint of approval laying there.

  She glanced over her shoulder to the crying Gabrielle, who had found a spot on the lounge to curl up into a fetal position on. Thorne rolled her eyes.

  “Good Lord, you’d think I actually kicked her ass.” Thorne shook her head and slipped her arm through Dalton’s, making sure Gabby watched her every move. “Shall we?”

  “After you.” Dalton gave her hand a squeeze and led her out of the club, both of their heads held high and their steps lighter, a huge weight having been lifted from their shoulders.

  One could hope anyway.

  “Be ready in the morning. I’m taking pictures of you.”

  Thorne stumbled at his declaration, her brows shot up as she stopped at the Tahoe, a soft chuckle passed her lips. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, I do. I want you to go work out, then showered and in a bathing suit ready for a shoot on the beach.”

  “And you can go fuck yourself, Dalton.” Thorne wasn’t sure where his caveman attitude was coming from, but there was going to be no picture taking tomorrow.

  “No, I’d prefer you to fuck me, but…” Dalton paused at the driver side door as she climbed in. “You will be ready by eight in the morning.”

  “Maybe you need more time to think on how you’re telling me, not asking me to do this. I’ve told you once, and I guess since you’re ears need a good cleaning, I’ll repeat myself.” Thorne shut the door, allowing the window to roll down as she
started the engine. “Cold day in Hell, Kilpatrick.”

  She never let him answer as she put the truck into gear and rolled off and out of the parking lot, leaving Dalton standing there with a shocked look on his face. Maybe the long walk home would put the silly notion of taking her picture right out of his pea-sized brain.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pissed didn’t even begin to explain how he was feeling.

  Thorne leaving him high and dry like she did? Yeah, totally sealed her fate. Now she was his to do with how he pleased.

  The whole walk home—which took three hours by the way—all he could think about was getting her in that bikini and taking pictures, after he punished her.

  Her punishment? An ass spanking.

  The trip home also gave him time to replay the battle between Thorne and Gabby. It was hot. No denying that. Fuck, who’d want to? Two women fighting over you? Couldn’t say that happened every day.

  And now, it was doomsday.

  As he walked down the hallway to her room, he had to chuckle to himself. She had no idea what was coming and he was about to get even with her ass for last night.

  Not bothering to knock, Apollo swung open the door and flipped on the light switch. She had those damn blackout curtains on, allowing her to sleep any time of the day. It was needed with the hours she had to sometimes keep.

  “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” Apollo shouted as he ran and jumped right up onto the glamorous four-poster bed that Thorne was passed out on. What made it even better? How she almost flew off the bed when his weight slammed down on the mattress.

  Her scream of surprise just made his day.

  “Damn, girl.” Apollo glanced around the room, mostly in shock at how…regal the room was. It was not exactly what he would have imagined Thorne liking or having.

  The carpet was plush and thick, black in color, the kind that was soft and made you want to roll around on it and treat it like a bed. The walls were painted antique in color, almost an off white, which off-set the crimson of the comforter, sheets and velvet curtains. The furniture was dark cherry and sturdy.