HEARTLESS

by Storm, Franca

  “What? It something special?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Jesus,” Runner grumbles, lifting his feet and putting ˈem down on the hardwood floor.

  I laugh as I see Ax rolling his eyes.

  “Fucking guy,” he murmurs.

  Runner holds up his hands. “My bad. Ain’t used to being ˈround fancy-ass stuff.” He pulls a smoke and a lighter outta his jacket pocket. “Cool to light up in here, or is that off the table, too?”

  “That’s fine,” Dealer seethes. “Have at it.”

  Runner lights up and takes a hard drag. Then he points between me and Dealer. “Think I mighta got a ticket. That red light camera at the border flashed at me when I were coming through. One of you mind taking care of it for me?”

  He ain’t sure who to ask outta me and Dealer, cuz things are a bit fucked right now. Dealer’s manning Rox’s surveillance cameras that were set up back when she ran the city, but for the last couple of days, I been down here with him watching ˈem too.

  “How fast were you riding?” Ax asks.

  Runner shrugs. “Dunno. What’s the limit ˈround here?”

  “Same as on any fucking highway for goddamn miles,” Dealer says.

  When Runner looks confused, I tell him, “Seventy.”

  “Miles?”

  Jesus Christ. “Yeah.”

  He grimaces. “Yeah, definitely over then.”

  “How much, Runner?” Ax barks at him.

  Runner shrugs. “ˈRound a hundred, I figure.”

  “Fucking hell,” Dealer mutters. “Sounds like you need a ticket.”

  “He can’t. Can’t get flagged by the law,” Ax says.

  “Cuz of my record,” Runner adds.

  Dealer rolls his eyes. “Fine. I got it. It’s taken care of, all right?”

  “Thanks, Dealer. Appreciate it.”

  “Just watch your speed from now on.”

  “Will do. Were tryinˈ to get here quick. Didn’t want you guys waiting ˈround on me too long.”

  “Next time, just fucking be late,” Dealer tells him.

  Runner nods. It’s so weird seeing how much he’s changed since meeting Sarah, getting married and becoming a father. Before all that, he never woulda just let Dealer’s attitude with him go. Never woulda backed down. Now he’s just taking it in his stride. Don’t really give a crap. Guess now he’s in the headspace that other shit matters more, like his wife and kid. He’s got the whole package now. So does Ax. Ain’t stopped his temper, though. Guess finding a good woman does different things to different guys. Wonder what it’d do to me these days. Last time I had it, before it was ripped away, kinda hit me like it hit Runner. Calmed me. Mia. Only woman I ever loved. Still can’t believe it’s been almost a decade since that day… day she was murdered. Fucking Frankie. The asshole wanted her so much, he decided it was better her being dead than with somebody who weren’t him. Sick fucking bastard. He went to ground after. I never could track him. Even Runner couldn’t and that’s saying something.

  But now he might be here, tryinˈ to do some business in Brockford. Nobody else wants it to be true, cuz they all know his rep. But I do. Cuz it’ll be my shot. After all these years, I might finally be getting my chance to rip him apart. Piece by fucking piece.

  “Smiter? You hearing me?”

  I look up to see Ax eyeing me with that worry on his face again. Jesus. I gotta keep it together here. Gotta act like I can handle this, or he’s gonna pull me off it.

  “Sorry, no. Mind was elsewhere. On surveillance set up ˈround Brockford. Just thinking if I shoulda run a feed right through to the club.” All lies.

  “Yeah?”

  His eyes bore into mine and I know he’s looking for any sign of me bullshitting him. I use every ounce of self-control I got to keep my gaze steady, make it look like I ain’t lying. Ax knows me real well, I gotta really bring it here.

  He stares at me for what feels like whole minutes going by in slow motion.

  Finally, it ends, and he says, “All right.”

  Just as that’s over, I see Runner staring at me with narrowed eyes as he smokes.

  I can see right away that he knows. He don’t make a move to say nothing, though. Just looks away and keeps smoking, like he ain’t noticed. That’s a good brother, right there.

  Ax turns to him. “Thanks to Smiter’s work down here the last couple of days with Dealer, we got some locations pinpointed where Frankie and his thugs have been in the city. You and me are gonna check ˈem all out.”

  “Got it. You take half, I take half?”

  “We go together.”

  “Gonna take way longer that way, Ax.”

  “Two of us is safer,” he says, pointedly.

  Runner gets it. Ax is tryinˈ to keep to his word of keeping him away from danger. “Okay.”

  “Where you want us?” Dealer asks Ax.

  “Nowhere.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Sit tight. Wait on word from me and Runner.”

  “Ax, let me do what I do, yeah?”

  “We’re doing this on the down low, ˈtil we know for sure who we’re dealing with. Ain’t going for the heavy-handed approach right now.”

  I shoot to my feet. “Why don’t I just head back to Reirdon Falls, huh?”

  “Was gonna order that, but knew you weren’t gonna be ready to leave, ˈtil we got confirmation on whether it’s really Frankie fucking ˈbout here. It’s why I’m leaving you with Dealer. You ain’t gonna be doing no rogue shit with him watching you.”

  “So, I got a babysitter now? I’m Runner now?”

  “Hey! Low blow,” Runner cries.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Smiter! Sit tight!” Ax roars, slamming his fist down on the couch.

  That temper of his has all of us sucking in a breath. Jesus Christ.

  “You feel me?” he demands, taking a step my way.

  “Yeah,” I grit out. “Feel you.”

  “You sure ˈbout that?”

  I know what he wants. Goddammit. Through gritted teeth, I manage to get out, “I’m sorry.”

  He glares at me for a second and then he nods and steps back. He walks back to the couch and slaps Runner’s shoulder. “Let’s ride.”

  The two of ˈem stride outta the room.

  I eye Dealer. “How you planning on stopping me from walking outta here?”

  He smirks. “I got my ways.”

  That creepy look in his eyes tells me he ain’t fucking with me.

  I slump back down on the couch. “You got enough whiskey?”

  Chapter 4

  ~Halle~

  I can’t believe it’s come to this.

  Making deals with devils.

  I’ve already met with two of them today. So-called businessmen. They were as sleazy as their reps had made them out to be. Gawking at my boobs like they were up for offer, along with the stake in my club. If that’s how they were with me, I can’t even imagine how they’d be with my girls. Girls who will be dressed way more provocatively than I am and dancing erotically up on stage. Their job is to ignite a fantasy in the men who come to view the show. A fantasy, not a reality. But the two sleazebags I met with today made it clear from their lewd looks and school-boy innuendos that they couldn’t see the distinction. There’s no way I’m subjecting my girls, or myself, to that. I have way more self-respect than that. I have self-respect coming out of my fucking ass and so do my girls.

  Even though I need the money, I’m not going down that road. This place would become a fucking whorehouse. Temptress is a high-class establishment, not a trashy hellhole.

  I’m meeting with one more potential investor at the end of the week. Maybe he won’t be a total sleazebag asshole. It could be a case of third time lucky.

  I blow out a breath as I push through the doors into Temptress. It’s late morning and I’ve been away, taking those two meetings. I’m usually here all day and night. I’m very hands-on when it comes to my club.

  Fuck. I really
need to blow off some steam.

  There are only two ways I do that. Sex or dancing. Erotic dancing.

  I walk down the gangway of the empty club, eyeing the three poles up on the stage. I unbutton my black wool coat and push it off my shoulders, letting it pool on the floor at my feet.

  I stop at the stage and pull off my knee-high, red leather boots. I make my way up the steps, my crimson mini-skirt bouncing against my ass as I walk. I stand in front of the pole and adjust my black halter top. My hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, so I don’t need to worry about it flying about everywhere.

  Something’s missing.

  Oh, right. Music.

  I smile to myself and walk over to the sound system at the rear of the stage. It takes me a while, because I haven’t used it for ages, but I finally manage to queue up a song. Slave for You by Britney Spears. Old, but a classic for erotic dancers everywhere.

  I walk back to the pole and close my eyes, letting the music take me over.

  It’s instinct. My body starts moving almost of its own accord. My hips sway to the sensual beat. I run my hands up my sides, over my boobs, my neck, into my hair, fisting it and shaking it out.

  I grab the pole with one hand and roll my hips, pumping them in an erotic rhythm, like I’m grinding against a hard dick.

  In seconds, the dance takes me over and I’m working the pole wildly.

  I’m upside down with my legs in the air, scissoring the pole, when I hear heavy footsteps coming down the gangway. It shocks me enough to make me lose my grip.

  I shriek as I fall and smack my ass on the stage.

  “Ow! Shit!” I groan, scrambling to get back to my feet. There’s someone inside my club, for fuck’s sakes. This is no time to lay around in a heap!

  I squeal as hands suddenly grab my hips, lifting me right to my feet.

  “Chill, sweetheart.”

  I’d know that voice anywhere.

  I spin around hastily to see Smiter smirking at me.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Watching one hell of a show,” he says, his eyes raking over me.

  “That wasn’t for public viewing.”

  “Didn’t know you could do that.”

  “It’s how I started out. Not in a place as nice as this, though.”

  “You were a stripper?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Had no idea. Figured you’d always been an owner.”

  “Yeah, well. There are some things I don’t like talking about.”

  He steps into me and grabs my hips again, jerking me flush against him. “How ˈbout I take a seat and you show me some more of ˈem skills?”

  “You’re asking for a lap dance?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  I pull out of his grip. “Go fuck yourself.”

  I hurry down the steps of the stage to the main floor.

  “Come on, Hal,” he says, following me, as I pull my boots back on.

  I’m about to start back down the gangway to get my coat, when he steps into my path. He does that thing that he knows I like, sliding his hand into my hair and massaging my scalp. I lose myself to his touch for a few seconds, moaning out from it.

  He steps closer, stumbling a bit.

  That’s when I realize.

  He’s drunk.

  I shake my head out of his hold and step back. “Get the hell out, Smiter.”

  “Hal.”

  “No! I’ve got too much on my mind to deal with this complicated mess of a situation between us.”

  “Ain’t complicated. You’re just making it that way.”

  “What?”

  He leans down and softly kisses my neck. “You and me, Hal? We’re real good together. You do things to me no other woman ever has. I know you ain’t never had it as good, ˈtil you met me.”

  “You think a lot of yourself.”

  “Know I’m right. Bet your panties are soaked, even though I’ve hardly touched you. Know why?”

  “Why?” I ask, my voice all breathy with arousal.

  How does he do this to me? I’m usually the one working men to get what I want, not the other way around.

  He slides his hand up my thigh, a barely-there, teasing touch. “Cuz you’re thinking ˈbout it. All the things I’ve done to you, all the dirty things you want me to do to you. Imagining my cock buried deep in your tight little pussy, drinking every drop of my cum as I shoot it down your throat, the first time I took that sweet ass. Never heard you scream so fucking loud, never heard you so crazed as when I did that. You like it dirty, sweetheart. And you and me? We give each other that.”

  I shake my head and try to step back, but he tightens his grip on my thigh and grabs my hip, holding me to him. “I know there’s still one fantasy I ain’t fulfilled.”

  “No,” I murmur.

  “Yeah, sweetheart. My bike.”

  Oh God.

  “You want me to bend you over it, spread you wide and pound your pussy so long and hard that you ain’t gonna be able to walk straight for a week. That’s how you like it, ain’t it, my sexy bad girl? Rough, hard and dirty.” He digs his fingers into my thigh, making me gasp from the painful bite of it. “Mmm. I almost forgot. You gotta have a bite of pain thrown in there too, don’t you?”

  “Stop.”

  “Know you don’t want that. You’re panting for me.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “So, we won’t do no power play, or bondage. I’ll just give you a good fucking.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “My bike’s right outside, Hal,” he says, trying to push me over the edge. He knows that’s one of my ultimate fantasies. It goes hand-in-hand with my biker fetish, the thing that brought us together in the first place. He knows I’ve been waiting for him to do it, but he’s always blown it off. Apparently, taking a woman on his bike is a big deal. Now, after all this time, he’s suddenly offering it to me. He’s not playing fair. Not at all.

  “After, you can fulfill my fantasy.”

  Not that again.

  “I haven’t done that in years, Smiter.”

  “Sure it’s just like riding a bike, Hal.” He winks at me slyly. “Or, a biker.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.” There’s no way in hell.

  He cups the side of my face, his glazed eyes searching mine. “Why not?”

  “Because, I haven’t done that since that night when…” What am I saying? I cannot tell him about that. No way. I can barely even stand thinking about it myself.

  “Hal?”

  I pull away from him and walk to my coat. I shrug it on quickly and button the middle, covering myself up. I fold my arms across my chest, a visible deterrent. “Why are you here? Why drunk?”

  “Don’t wanna talk.”

  “You never do, Smiter.” I blow out a tired breath. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Do what?”

  “I can’t have part of you, but not the rest.”

  “Come on.”

  “Smiter! We’ve been doing this for months! I know you care about me! Why can’t you just—”

  “I got nothing! Nothing!” he roars, abruptly losing his temper.

  Wow. “Of course, you do. You’re just—”

  “Just what, huh?” he shouts, storming over to me.

  “Scared. Scared of getting hurt.”

  He shakes his head. “You got no clue.”

  “You lost someone.”

  “Stop!” he says, holding up his hand.

  “Someone you loved?”

  “Stop!” he bellows, his voice echoing off the walls in the empty club. “I got nothing to give you, woman!” He punches his chest. “Ain’t nothing in here! You and me? This is all we are. Get that through your head! Just fucking! Why you wanting more now?”

  “I care about you!”

  “It’s one-sided. I don’t give a fuck ˈbout nothing, except that sweet pussy you got going for you.”

  I know he’s saying this, be
cause I’ve struck a nerve and he’s hurting, but no one disrespects me.

  “Get out!” I yell. “Now!”

  “Halle.”

  “No! We’re done. I’m making it simple. Stay the fuck away from me.”

  When it looks like he’s going to argue, I scream, “Out! Get the fuck out of my club!”

  He curses under his breath and storms past me.

  As he slams the doors behind him, I storm over there, slamming my fist against the hard metal. “Asshole!”

  Chapter 5

  ~Smiter~

  “Ah, fuck,” I groan, struggling to open my eyes.

  I’m hung-over. Real bad.

  How much did I drink?

  A sudden thud has me jerking in surprise.

  “Drink this.”

  I turn my head to see Ax standing over me, pointing to a coffee table in front of me. There’s a bottle of water there, a mug, and what looks like some aspirin.

  “What the hell happened?” I groan, forcing myself to sit up.

  Takes me a second to get my bearings.

  I’m on one of Dealer’s couches in his living room.

  “You went through Dealer’s supply of booze. Started getting pissed when you wanted more, so Dealer took you out to a bar. You wandered off while he was getting an order in. He found you storming outta Temptress and brought you back here, where you passed out cold.”

  “What… why?” I murmur, reaching for the pills and the bottle of water.

  “Why? You tell me.”

  I down the pills and the full bottle of water. “Where’s Dealer? He pissed at me?”

  “More impressed, than pissed.”

  “Impressed?”

  “Not a lot of people can shake him, Smiter. You managed it while you were drunk off your ass.”

  “Jesus.”

  “So, you went by to see Halle?” he asks, taking a seat on the couch opposite.

  “I guess.”

  Did I? I went to see her? Thought I’d decided to break things off with her. Did I stop by to tell her that?

  Oh, fuck. It hits me then, memories of what went down.

  “I care about you!”

  “It’s one-sided. I don’t give a fuck ˈbout nothing, except that sweet pussy you got going for you.”

  “Get out!”