by Lana Grayson
Money he was no longer entitled to earn.
Thorne encroached on me. My girls stopped dancing. Not good. If I wasn’t in the spotlight, I didn’t need the attention. “Well, you’re still alive. Means you didn’t mouth off too much to whoever clocked you. You saved that attitude for me.”
“After the day I’ve had, you’ll be lucky if all I do is bitch you out.”
“Unbunch your thong, Lyn. I came to check on you.”
“You’re about twelve hours too late.”
“What the fuck happened?”
“Not now, Thorne.”
He reached for my wrist. Mistake. His eyes narrowed over the bruises. I yanked away.
“Who the fuck did this to you?” He growled.
More eyes on me. Roxie ran after her customer. Scared away.
I gritted my teeth. Thorne squeezed too hard, and I wasn’t about to deal with a second MC president acting over-protective.
“Leave,” I said. “You’re causing a scene.”
“Like fucking hell. What happened to you?”
“Not tonight.”
“No one touches you, Lyn. No one.”
A twenty-thousand dollar bounty existed on Thorne’s head, and times like this I was tempted to collect that prize. Since Anathema and The Coup started the war, Sorceress had been ground fucking zero for every major conflict, battle, mediation, and notable death. It hadn’t been by choice. Men like Thorne didn’t think of anything beyond their 1%. I spent nearly fifty grand after the insanity between Thorne and Exorcist, and that was only for the reconstruction. I also owed legal fees, insurances, bribes.
I paid Anathema to protect me in my own club, but I paid ten times over to clean up their messes.
And now Temple thought I had something to do with Blade’s murder?
The blood on my hands existed only because of Anathema. I didn’t pull the trigger, but the kill shot echoed through my club. If that made me guilty then Thorne would get a taste of someone else’s vengeance for a change.
The feminine voice calling over the sultry music didn’t belong in a place like mine. Rose Darnell fluttered after Thorne, pushing past the monstrous, inked man and diving into my arms.
I hadn’t realized how badly my ribs hurt until she squeezed hard enough to drive a telling oomph from my lips. Rose had more class than all of Anathema, and more reason to escape the MC than anyone, but she didn’t have the common sense to keep her mouth shut.
Her bunny eyes widened. She brushed the chestnut curls from her face. “Oh no. Did I hurt you?”
No way was I admitting that a little kitten like Rose hurt me. I resisted the urge to say something smart. Rose patched herself to Thorne, but she wasn’t anywhere as dangerous as the president. I liked her. Everyone did, though if she hopped onstage and lost the dress, she’d make a lot more friends.
“I’m fine,” I said.
That didn’t convince her. “You were gone. Your dressing room was a mess. I had no idea what happened to you.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Lyn…” Her voice lowered. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”
Rose had a way of making people spill their secrets. Probably because she had so many of her own. But I cultivated an image of independence and a reputation for being a hard ass. I gave her nothing.
It didn’t satisfy the president.
“Your office.” Thorne’s voice darkened. “Now.”
The good cop/bad cop routine annoyed me. So did the attention they drew. I led them to my office, the only sanctified place in our world. Not because it was safe, and not because I kept a spare gun in my drawer. My office was one of the few legal avenues we had to make money—and I made a lot of it.
I took my seat, crossing my feet on the desk. I replaced my lost heels with a slinky pair of black pumps. I preferred the slippers under my chair. Rose sat. Thorne paced. Usually he wasn’t so agitated around his woman.
“What the hell happened?” Thorne thought he could yell at me in my own office. “Were you going to tell me The Coup kidnapped you?”
“No.”
“You didn’t think that was important?”
“No.” I held his gaze. At least Luke had a regal quality to him. Thorne was like talking to a goddamned warlord. Blood and guns and dominance. No finesse. “I wasn’t kidnapped by The Coup.”
“So you decided to split from Anathema just to suck Knight’s cock?”
“You jealous?”
Rose rolled her eyes. She was used to our fights.
Thorne snorted. “Men are safer jerking off in the barrel of the gun than between your lips.”
At least he realized it. “I wasn’t making a run with The Coup. This morning, Temple kidnapped me. Took me to a warehouse. I had a little chat with one of their officers and Knight.”
Tempers were easier to lose than panties in Sorceress. Fortunately, I didn’t wear them, and I taught myself breathing exercises to keep such outbursts in check.
Thorne didn’t. He swore. The only thing that kept my desk upright was Rose, taking his hand and preventing the wreckage.
“Why the fuck was Knight delivering you to Temple MC?”
Oh Christ. None of them could see beyond their dicks. “Judging by the bindings on Knight’s wrists, his wasn’t a cordial visit either.”
“They grabbed him?”
“He was as surprised as me. And he had a right to be. There's a lot of rumors flying around, Thorne. A lot of people thinkin’ shit they shouldn’t. They’re starting to connect the dots back to Sorceress.”
“About what?”
Rose understood. “About my fath—about Blade?”
“Yeah. They were very interested in Blade Darnell. Especially since they know he’s dead.”
Rose shrunk on the couch and pretended she could handle his name without flashbacks and memories. I had a lot of girls with daddy issues dancing in my club, and not one of them dealt with the shit she did. She wasn’t healed. She wasn’t fine. No amount of therapy was going to help.
Only time and closure would end it for her.
Unfortunately, in Anathema, closure was delivered in body bags and parole hearings. The same shit rehashed itself over and over again until old rivalries and old insults became fresh again.
Thorne swore. There wasn’t a word either of us had cursed today worthy of our situation.
“How do they know he’s dead?” Rose asked. “I thought—”
Thorne didn’t let her finish, which was smart. God only knew who was listening. “Why is Temple harassing you about it?”
“Because the last place Blade was seen was his welcome home party. Conveniently held here.”
And that was my own mistake. I wanted to help Rose and risked the trouble. She gnawed on her lip. Thorne brushed a hand against her cheek, drawing her from whatever memory she suffered.
“There’s more,” I said.
Thorne removed the gun from his belt and placed it on the desk. “Just aim it at my forehead. This shit can’t get any worse.”
“They think Knight murdered him.”
Neither of them expected that. Of course, the news would only entice Thorne. I expected a celebration. A grin. Some sort of threat against Luke’s manhood or life.
But Thorne wasn’t the same warlord I remembered. Rose’s influence destroyed his black-and-white, club-versus-traitor world view. He didn’t immediately react with violence anymore. Instead, he let it simmer. Not smart either. The meth labs blowing up across the county were less subtle than him.
“What did Knight say?” Thorne wanted to ask a different question, but he knew better than to insinuate I’d spill any details about Anathema.
“Same thing he’s been preaching for months. That he humped Temple MC up and down the coast, running drugs and making deals to get Blade out of jail.”
“What about Brew?” Rose still stumbled over his name.
“As far as he knows, Brew’s six feet under courtesy of Thorne.” It might have relie
ved Rose, but it didn’t make me feel any better. “Not sure how long we have until Knight grabs a shovel and goes looking for him.”
“How’d you get the bloodied lip?” Thorne asked.
“Guess.”
He smirked, but the gesture was cold. “Just being your usual charming self?”
“Never had any complaints before.”
“If I only knew it took a goddamned cartel to put you in your place.”
I bristled, but I played it off by crossing my legs and letting every curve answer for me. “I know my place, and it is right here in Sorceress. I’ve waded through enough of Anathema’s shit, but my heels always kept me out of the mess until today. I’m done with it, Thorne. You hearing me?”
“You threatenin’ me?”
“You can bet your ass on it. Hell, bet Rose’s sweet little ass on it.”
Rose shifted. “Can we leave my ass out of this?”
“Here’s the deal. This is my business and my safety we’re talking about. I’ve given you thousands, and all I’ve gotten back is a couple middle-aged, pot-bellied, mid-life crises guarding my doors. My girls dance and get felt up by your guys. I get kidnapped from my own fucking dressing room by Temple MC, and I entertain them with lies to keep Anathema’s crimes hushed up.”
“What’s your point?”
“This industry is dangerous enough without a group of rag-tag bikers trying to prove their manhood by pissing on every alliance they’ve ever made. You have a choice to make. I don’t care if you’re some low-key cigarette smugglers, or if you decide to become the biggest drug trafficking gang on the West Coast. Do what you want. But remember that I’m investing in your service.”
“Now I see why you got smacked.”
“You want to hit me? Hit me.”
Rose groaned, head in her hands. “Don’t hit her.”
“He knows better. I’ll take my five grand and find better protection.”
Thorne laughed. “Who? You think The Coup is gonna keep you safe? Honey, it ain’t your sparkling personality that keeps ‘em coming back. You got a good pair of tits and a nice ass, but that ain’t nothing we haven’t seen before.”
“That so?”
“I don’t care how you market yourself. You can be a burlesque dancer, tight rope walker, or yoga master, so long as you shake those tits at the end of the day, we all go home happy.”
Rose dropped her smile. “Are we going to have the same argument every week?”
“No,” I said. “We’re done. I want nothing to do with Anathema unless I’m entertaining two guards here a night. They can get a free show from my girls, provided they can shoot straight the next time I’m caught in the middle of your bullshit.”
“I can’t spare that many men,” Thorne said.
“How much is Blade’s death worth to you?”
Thorne stopped pacing, but Rose set his ass down before he made a mistake. His voice graveled.
“You thinkin’ of talking?”
“For Christ’s sake, Thorne, I’m no traitor. I’m worried about my own ass. About what happens when Temple decides I do know something. They’ll come after me, and, like you said…I’m just a stripper. They won’t think twice before slitting my throat to rip that secret out.”
“That’s not true,” Rose said.
She was right. It wasn’t. They wouldn’t kill me, not when they could sell me off and make decent money. But I wasn’t dropping concerns about rape in front of her. She had enough darkness to worry about.
“Tell me what I’m supposed to do, Thorne,” I said. “I need this place protected, and you have to sort out the bullshit with Blade. Take the heat off me.”
“What about Knight?”
I didn’t react. “One crisis at a time.”
Roxie knocked on the office door. It opened without me allowing it. The blonde pixie peeked in, apologizing and averting her eyes from Thorne and his cut.
“Sorry, Lyn. Someone is still requesting you for a dance. They say they’ll pay.”
Because that’s what I needed. I didn’t do requests anymore. I conducted appointments and charged obscene amounts for the men willing to pay for perfection. But I didn’t feel like squeezing into a pair of booty shorts, even for a couple grand.
“Tell them no. Send Shannon out.”
“You’re…gonna want to meet this one.” She gnawed on her lip. “Trust me.”
I was never a woman to turn down business, and if this jackass expected me to dance tonight, he was paying triple. I’d need it, especially when Thorne denied my request, and I’d be forced to find a new way to protect my interests.
I dismissed Roxie and stood. Thorne wasn’t done. I didn’t care.
“My adoring fans call for me.”
Thorne scowled. “Thought you wanted to talk business?”
“I said everything I needed to say. You think it over.” I opened the door, ushering him from my office. Rose followed, meeting my gaze. She was a sweet girl, but I’d use her the same as I used anyone else, even if I’d feel guilty doing it. “Just remember, it isn’t only me your men protect here. Rose has a permanent position singing here every Thursday night.”
Thorne swore. I wouldn’t want to be around for their argument later. Nothing stopped Rose from playing her music, no matter the man in the cut or the patches on his vest. Her songs and Thorne were her passions, and he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive to find a girl like her.
I hurried after Roxie. She pointed me beyond the R&B thrumming stage. My VIP section was high in the loft above, separated from the rest of the club with a beaded curtain and carpeted stairs. Less like a tacky and dirty hole in the wall, and more like soft and sultry decadence.
I built Sorceress to be the best. The finest furniture and lovely décor that changed every season with the trends. I didn’t believe in feng shui, but I worked for presentation and respectability. I created an illusion with every step I took, every dance I conducted, and every time I graced a man with my talents.
I paused before the room, fixing my hair in the hall mirror. My halter top wasn’t the greatest of costumes, but a lap dance didn’t call for much clothing. I abandoned the push-up bra after my run in with Temple, but the bruised face and fat lip concerned me more than proper attire.
I didn’t have to worry.
It wasn’t a man looking for a dance.
She was a problem.
The woman stood as I entered, flashing a badge before reaching for my hand. I wiped down the poles before hooking my legs around them, but I wouldn’t have shaken Agent Katherine Greene’s hand even if she doused herself in bleach.
“Jocelyn Hart?” Agent Greene’s smile was poisoned with pure arrogance, as though she already knew who I was, where I came from, and the color of my thong. “I was hoping to speak with you for a moment.”
“I’m working.”
“I understand your…schedule is tight.”
More than my schedule. “Little late for ATF to be working, isn’t it?”
“Some professions work better at night, don’t you think?” Agent Greene asked. She might’ve been a beautiful woman had she dropped the badge, attitude, and pantsuit. “My work never sleeps.”
“Sounds like you need a better job.”
“I have the best in the world. Good pay. Benefits. And I get to meet the most interesting of people.” She smirked. “Most of the time they’re clothed.”
“Can’t trust anybody when they wear clothes. Too easy to hide things.”
“What about those cuts I see running around your club?”
“They’re all little boys on a power trip under the leather.”
Agent Greene arched an eyebrow. “Most of these guys don’t seem very little.”
Enough was enough. “If you want a dance, my rates have tripled. If you want information, come back with a warrant.”
Agent Greene didn’t flinch. The Feds sniffed around Sorceress for more than just a whiff of my dancers’ panties. They were vultures, lured a
nytime they thought they could get a promotion from an easy arrest.
Most of the time, I dealt with some young asshole agent harassing my girls. None of my regulars wanted a dance with the law lingering in the club, and that made them a pain in the ass. A visit from the Feds was worse than the biker war that brought them.
Agent Greene tossed the envelope onto my table. She settled on the couch and grinned.
“It’s not a warrant.”
No, it wasn’t. A handful of hundred dollar bills poured from the envelope. This hadn’t happened before, and I knew she wasn’t offering because she thought it was cute.
“What do you want?”
Agent Greene let her hair down, and the brunette locks looked real enough. If she dropped the shoulder pads, she might have looked only thirty or so. I braced for her bite.
“Not too busy tonight, is it?” She asked.
I didn’t take the money. “It happens.”
“I feel like Sorceress is the pulse of this city. When times are good, your seats are filled. When they’re not…”
“Never underestimate the lure of a nice pair of tits, Agent Green. Most are worth the risk.”
“To a man, maybe. But to one of your girls? This is a dangerous profession.”
“With all due respect…my girls aren’t issued a gun when they hop on stage.”
Agent Greene nodded, patting the weapon at her side. “Maybe they need one. I looked at the history here. Seems you set up shop in a dangerous area.”
“Real estate is hard to come by in the Valley.”
Agent Greene shrugged. “As are licenses, liquor permits, zoning restrictions…”
“I’d rather deal with a dozen city councils over pregnant dancers and abusive boyfriends.”
“No doubt. Especially when the boyfriends come from the more unsavory parts of the city?”
I thought the dance would be literal. Didn’t need heels for this interrogation. I should have packed tap-shoes.
“This is Cherrywood Valley,” I said. “The entire city is unsavory. We just dress up a couple areas to make people feel good.”
“A shame really. This city could be quite the attraction.”
It was in the desert. The only way the Valley would become an attraction was if it suddenly dug up oil like it did in the 70s. Or if it shuffled the billionaire corporate farmers out of the area and let the water drain from the Atwood’s corn fields back to the people.