Respectable Riot (Riot MC, #6)

by Karen Renee

  “You in charge?” she asked.

  He waited a beat to see if her bravery dissipated. She held his eyes. He fought tipping his lips up. “You ride the bus here?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Not that it should concern you, but no. I rode here.”

  His eyebrows snapped together and he tipped his head toward the pristine Harley. “On that bike over there?”

  She nodded once. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

  He blinked at her attitude. “Surely, you see the cut I’m wearin’. A bike like that’s everything to me. What’re you doin’ here?”

  She crossed her arms, and he noticed her plump cleavage. Actually, noticed wasn’t right, he was reminded of her tits, because like any man he had noticed those as soon as she came into full view. When he raised his gaze back to her eyes she arched her eyebrow in a clear question of Are you done yet? Fuck him, but he liked that kind of attitude in a woman. He smirked his most impish smile at her.

  “What do you think I’m doing here? There’s an audition at four, or so I was told.”

  Years upon years of sitting poker tables at various rooms in Biloxi had forced Beast to learn to keep his facial expressions bland, but never had he been so damned thankful for it until now. “‘Or so you were told?’ Just who would’ve told you about auditions?”

  Her dark-chocolate-colored eyes dipped to the patches on his cut and back to his eyes. “Turk. He lives next door to my sister. Came by to watch college basketball with us last night. He knows I’ve had some money struggles and also knows I can handle myself. Thought I might be interested. So, here I am.”

  Too many thoughts were vying for his attention. He couldn’t wrap his mind around this gorgeous woman and her sister watching college hoops, but then adding Turk’s skinny, tall ass to the mix put an extra warp on the mind-bender. Turk was as tight-lipped as a brother could be. Then thoughts of kicking Turk’s ass prevailed because he could not believe the brother thought this was something she’d be interested in.

  After a deep breath, he asked, “What is your name?”

  “Stephanie.”

  “Okay, Stephanie. Why are you interested in auditioning?”

  She looked toward the street and back to him. “Seriously? Can’t we do this inside? I’d rather not–”

  Beast smiled widely. “You’d rather not be seen standing out here, is that it?”

  A snide smile crossed her face. “Please, do us both a favor. Don’t put words in my mouth, but yes. I’d rather not do this out here, not because of it being a strip club, but because those clouds overhead look like they’re ready to bust open. Even if you’re the only person I’m auditioning for, I’d like to make a good impression without having to reapply make-up and deal with frizzy hair.”

  Fuck. He really liked Stephanie and her brand of sassy. Then he reminded himself he did not want another woman in his life. Before he could respond, Turk pulled into the lot on his Indian chopper. Stephanie turned to watch him park the bike close to hers. Her lips pursed and shifted to the side.

  “Something wrong?” Beast asked.

  She turned back to him, almost glaring. “No. Occasionally, I wonder if I’d be happier on an Indian, but only occasionally.”

  Turk walked over sifting through the keys on his ring. When he had the one he wanted, he looked up at them. “Hey, Beast. Stephie, glad you could make it. See you rode here. We should try to get you in and out before the heavy rain starts.”

  She smiled at him sweetly, and Beast wished she’d directed that expression his way. “Thanks, Turk. I appreciate it.”

  Beast wondered if the afternoon could get any damn worse.

  “NO WAY. NO FUCKIN’ way,” Beast said to Turk, Yak, and Jerry, the soon-to-be-former owner of Platinum’s Gentlemen Club. The auditions took two hours, but it felt like four. The men had been sitting at the table discussing each woman for the last hour. They decided early on to compare notes on Stephanie’s audition last.

  “What are you talkin’ about? She’s a fuckin’ show-stopper,” Yak declared in a raised voice.

  Turk gave Yak a look to get him to cool his attitude. Looking back to Beast, he asked, “What exactly is the problem with Stephanie dancing for us? She has moves, and she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.”

  Beast’s pointed index finger drilled into the tabletop. “It’s not on her to take care of herself when she’s here. We employ her, it’s on us to take care of her.”

  “Which is not a problem. Hoss and the other bouncers have plenty of experience.”

  Beast glared at Jerry. “Yeah, but it’s her attitude that will get her, and by extension us, into trouble. ‘She can take care of herself.’ She tells the bouncers that, they get lax because they believe her, and then she finds herself in serious shit.”

  Turk stared at him hard. “You don’t want her dancin’. That’s what this is all about.”

  Beast shook his head. That wasn’t all of it, it was just part of it. A woman like her had no business sharing a stage with a pole. If it were up to him, none of these women would be so hard-pressed for cash that they had to shake their money-makers to make ends meet. Then again, if he got his way, they’d have no talent on stage, which would be detrimental to business. He opened his mouth to say something, but Turk spoke first.

  “Whatever you’re gonna say is pure bullshit. I saw how you were lookin’ at her when I pulled in. Hell, I damn sure saw how she was lookin’ at you.”

  He glared. She hadn’t been looking at him in any way, had she? “Fuck you, Turk. You don’t know shit.” His stomach clenched as he finished with, “I’m outvoted here. She’s in.”

  Yak chuckled, shaking his head and making his man-bun slip loose. “Actually, you’re not. We’re at a stalemate because I haven’t actually voted yet.”

  “Wasn’t it you who called her a ‘fuckin’ show-stopper?’” Jerry asked.

  Yak shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, but a show-stopper’s gonna be a liability, and not just because she’s got attitude. When’s the last time you had a full house, Jerry? The three of us are too green to bring in a woman who might have ‘em lined up around the building. I say we tell her to come back in four, five months.”

  Beast looked into Yak’s hazel eyes. Why didn’t he think of that? Those protests were much more intelligent and logical. Yep, Turk had his number. Part of him wanted Stephanie, but this was even better. Volt said he’d be managing the club for the first six months or so. That would mean he might only have to deal with Stephanie for a month, maybe two. He exhaled with relief and pushed his chair back.

  “Well, what do you say, gentlemen? Yak’s plan sounds solid. Bring her back in a few months, and so she doesn’t accuse us of discrimination or some shit, perhaps offer her–”

  “She would not accuse us of discrimination,” Turk interjected.

  “Don’t be so sure about that,” Jerry muttered.

  Beast lowered his chin in agreement. “Offer her a position as a waitress so she can see the veterans. Gives her a feel for the types of crowds she’ll be dealing with, and if her schedule permits, she can rehearse before doors open.”

  Turk shook his head. “Fine, but the least you can do is own up to having an ulterior motive.”

  Beast shrugged. “You’re right. She’s hot. Too fuckin’ hot to be sellin’ her body, and I don’t particularly like the idea of a bunch of other fucks watching her. Problem is, I came to this town to get away from women. Gonna stick to that plan, Turk. Now, which one of us is gonna break the bad news to her?”

  Jerry shot him a look. “I’m an old hand at tellin’ girls they’re not quite ready yet, but maybe they’d like to serve drinks. There’s another audition next Monday. Unless you’re sticking around tonight, I’ll see you later.”

  BEAST ROLLED INTO HIS room at quarter to ten. It was sad to be a thirty-one-year-old man who wanted to sleep for the next twelve hours. Hell, his dad was probably just off work and ready to stay up until one in the morning. He locked himse
lf into his room, and stripped his clothes so he could shower. Part of him wanted to jerk off in the shower while replaying Stephanie’s dance in his mind. But if he wanted to stay true to his word of swearing off women for a while, then thinking of her would not be good, no matter where he was.

  Taking what was probably his quickest shower ever, he toweled off and heard his cell ringing. Nabbing it off the nightstand, he saw it was Liar.

  “Yo, Li, what’s shaking?”

  “Not much. You got shit on early next Friday morning?”

  He squinted at the wall. “We’re bikers, Liar. When do either of us ever have shit to do early on a Friday morning?”

  His cousin chuckled. “Point taken. Okay, can you be somewhere with your truck early on Friday morning? Or is that gonna cramp your style?”

  He sighed. “No. Won’t cramp my style since it’s for you, but Andrea’s fully moved in with you. What the hell could you need my truck for at an early hour?”

  Liar took in a deep breath Beast could hear and an uncomfortable feeling slid up his spine. “Andrea was hoping you could help us move Janie out of her house and into her condo.”

  “She can’t hire movers?” he snapped his question.

  Liar nearly snorted in his ear. “You got a problem with Janie? Didn’t seem that way a few weeks back when she showed up here.”

  Beast sighed. “No. Sorry, it’s been a long, shitty day. I’m tired. Don’t mean to take it out on you, cousin. Just surprises me she can’t pay regular muscle to do this shit.”

  Liar made a tsking sound. “Yeah, if this were a normal move, I think that would be an option for her, but she’s tryin’ to move shit when she knows Trent won’t be around and he’s got some last minute political thing happening in Tallahassee Friday morning. Means he’s gonna be out the door by six and not back in town until probably seven, depending on traffic.”

  Just thinking about being up around six in the morning made Beast feel exhausted. “So, we need to be there when? Six-thirty?”

  “That’s the plan, man.”

  “Okay. I’m in. You got anyone else with a truck comin’?”

  Liar groaned and the bad feeling resurfaced. “Nah. I’m borrowing Major’s truck, and–”

  “We’re the only two people movin’ her shit?”

  “She says she’s not takin’ much. It’s just a couch, chair and a coffee table. Says she can carry the coffee table, but hell if I’m gonna watch her do that.”

  He chuckled darkly. “Listen, Liar. As a truck owner, I can tell you straight up, nearly everyone who needs to borrow my truck for moving says, they ‘aren’t takin’ much,’ and then list their items, but on moving day they’ve got ten times as much shit to haul. Jesus. Please, let’s get someone else in on this. What’s Razor got on? He’s got a truck doesn’t he? And how damn heavy is this couch? Bitches never know how heavy their own furniture is because they aren’t the ones movin’ it.”

  There was a long pause and when Liar spoke, he could hear the smile in his cousin’s voice. “Jesus. You really are tired, aren’t you? I’ve seen this couch. It’s like modern and shit. I could move the damn thing myself, but I’d probably get a hernia trying to go around corners. It’s just her, and if she’s got more than ten boxes, then we’ll make her carry her weight.”

  THE FOLLOWING WEEK on Thursday afternoon, Beast talked Razor into sharing a drink at the clubhouse. Before he could ask his brother if he could lend a hand with Janie’s move the next day, Razor mentioned taking his woman Tennille to Orlando to visit her sister, Cecilia. As Beast nodded at Razor, his phone rang. It was his lawyer, so he stepped away from the blaring sound system to take the call.

  “You got David,” he answered.

  His lawyer was notorious for cutting to the chase, and this conversation was no different. Except this conversation required no interaction on his part.

  Beast ended the call, shoving his cell into his pocket as he perched his ass on the barstool. “Fuck,” he hissed.

  “Bad news?” Razor asked.

  Gulping back the last of his beer, Beast slammed the bottle on the bar to get the prospect’s attention. “The worst. Fuckin’ State of Mississippi is gonna be the death of me.”

  “Not sure that makes any sense, brother.”

  “As fucked up as this sitch is, that isn’t surprising.”

  Razor shrugged and downed his beer. “You want to vent, I’ll listen.”

  “You got kids?”

  Razor’s eyes sharpened. “Yeah. Didn’t think you did though.”

  “Turns out I don’t, but my dumbass signed a birth certificate for a child I thought was mine, but actually isn’t.”

  “You know that for a fact?”

  “I do. Paternity test came back few weeks before I put in to transfer over here. Tore me up to find out my little girl isn’t really my little girl.”

  “She doesn’t have to know that if you don’t want her to.”

  “The real father came back from deployment.”

  “Fuck,” Razor groaned.

  “Exactly. I’m trying to get my name removed from the birth certificate, but I missed a fuckin’ deadline by three months. Mississippi will let you change a birth certificate by just filling out a form if it’s within one year of the certificate being issued.”

  “You’re shitting me. Even with a paternity test, they won’t–”

  “My lawyer has to petition the court about it.”

  Razor stood up and clapped Beast on the shoulder. “Good luck, man. You need anything, you know where to find me.”

  Before Beast could tell the prospect to pour him a shot of tequila, Laura wandered up to him. Her cheap perfume was cloying, and he wondered why it never bothered him before.

  She slid her hand along his shoulders. “Wanna go somewhere a little more private, Beast?”

  He fought rolling his eyes. “Sorry, Laura. Not today.”

  She tilted her head. “You seem tense, though. I suck you off, it’s sure to relax you.”

  It would, but it would also be temporary. Truth was Beast was tired of meaningless fucks with easy women like Laura.

  Hell, that’s how Brianne convinced him he’d impregnated her. He was drunk at a club inside the Beau Rivage, and she came on to him. Going against his common sense, he fucked her against a wall, without a condom. It was a damn hard lesson to learn, but when Katherine was born, Beast’s view of the entire world shifted.

  His baby girl made him want to be a better man, even if he wasn’t going to marry Brianne. He spent every moment he could with Katherine, even when it meant he had to be around Brianne to do it.

  When Devin showed up on Brianne’s doorstep in his Army fatigues, Beast couldn’t ignore the tickle of unease in his gut. Katherine’s eyes had changed from being baby blues to a murky shade of green that Beast had thought was unique to her. Until he laid eyes on Devin, that was. The resemblance in the eyes could’ve been coincidental, but Beast did not believe in coincidences.

  Getting the test results back that he was not his little girl’s father killed. He couldn’t stay in the same town where Katherine was being raised. Everyone thought his request to transfer to Jacksonville was a knee-jerk reaction to his cousin being patched in, but it was not.

  He leveled his eyes on the sweet-butt. “Not today, it wouldn’t. Later, Laura.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Janie

  MY BIZARRE CONVERSATION with Andrea turned out to be quite helpful. She was right, I couldn’t help who I was attracted to, but she was wrong if she thought the alpha-macho biker was for me. So, while Beast might pop into my mind every now and then, it wasn’t as bad as it had been in the past couple weeks. Plus, Andi pointing out Trent’s controlling nature about my pastrami-on-rye obsession was something I was definitely looking forward to getting away from. I didn’t need a man to get by, and I needed to keep that front and center in my mind’s eye. There was plenty for me to deal with in the here-and-now; I didn’t need to invite more by trying to start s
omething up with Beast. Though, realistically, those guys did all of the starting up, not the women.

  It was Thursday night, and Trent was due home imminently.

  I had no idea if he was making overtures to cause problems for the Riot MC’s pawn shop. For the past twelve days, my interactions with Trent were few and far between. This was my first week working for Bobby Randall and Quinton Starling at I.T. Jax. I had shared my known social commitments, and they were cool with me taking the time needed for those events. So, if I wasn’t getting in late, then Trent was getting in late and we were ships passing in the night.

  He wasn’t due for another “social function” until the end of the month, though I had a lunch to attend in eight days.

  The door to the garage opened and Trent ambled inside. He tossed his briefcase on the counter, nearly knocking over a bottle of red wine. Pointedly, he eyed my naked fingernails and inwardly I did a jump of joy. I didn’t consider myself to be passive-aggressive, but signs were indicating I was pretty good at it.

  I needed to eat, but at the same time I never seemed to have an appetite when Trent was in the room. Before I could move to the hallway, Trent’s voice stopped me.

  “I have a long drive and a long day tomorrow. No fucking nail polish remover tonight. That shit irritates my sinuses, and while it’s the topic, go to the salon and have your nails done with a French manicure. Most women love that, why you suddenly don’t is beyond me.”

  I was going to say, “As you wish,” but that would be a sacrilege against The Princess Bride for which I could never expect forgiveness. Instead, I muttered, “Don’t worry. I’m all out of acetone, and a manicure tomorrow sounds like an excellent way to spend my Friday.”

  That last was a total lie. Trent was right, most women did love having their nails done, and their feet too. I despised my weekly manicures, mainly because they were forced on me. Just went to show, it was all about what one was used to. If a manicure was a rare thing, it was the luxury it was supposed to be. If it was demanded by a husband who only gave a shit so you’d conform to the look of all the other women at the function, then it wasn’t a luxury but a chore, if not a burden. Seriously, an hour every week down the drain. Fifty-two hours annually, who knew what I could do with that time? Probably not much, but it grated on my nerves regardless.