“I bet she can work those lips on a dick like a fucking pro.” Chief watched her walk past them to another table. Chief was one of the elders, and Vice President, of the brotherhood. He had been involved in the Devil Savages for longer than most had been alive. Her little ass swayed with each step, giving him an instant hard-on. He reached under the table and adjusted himself, wincing as the zipper scraped his bare shaft. The more he stalked her moves with his eyes, the more he wanted to take her in the bathroom, bend her over the sink, and bury his cock in her to the hilt.
“Not if Raven cuts your shit off first. She doesn’t seem like the type that’ll share. Then again, if you’re wantin’ to trade up, I’d be happy to take Raven off your hands…” Yo Neg joked.
“Watch yourself, white boy. You so much as look at Raven and I’ll put you six foot under—after I cut your eyes out,” Chief snapped.
“Enough. Hurry the fuck up. We got shit to do.” Their new interest in the hot little number didn’t sit well with Tonto. If he thought for one second she could handle their lifestyle—her ass would be tied to his bed faster than a dick shake and wearing his cut permanently. The rest of breakfast, the five chatted about upcoming events and subjects safe enough that if accidently overheard, there wouldn’t be any static. As they all got up to leave, they each pulled a bill out and left it. A five hundred dollar tip was good incentive to not flake on his offer. He wanted to see how she did in their environment. Despite her innocent look, he saw potential hidden, even if she didn't know it was there. It was going to be fun to unwrap the layers to see what was hidden underneath…and under her clothes, if he was lucky.
The MMA fights might be open to the public, but most that attended were bikers. If she could handle it, there might be more in the cards for her. Good help was hard to find. Trustworthy was next to impossible. The Pit was one of their underground businesses held in the basement of Devil’s Den. Between the wagers and the juice the house made off their credit services, it was becoming a good source of income. It also created more demand for collectors, which was why the club had recruited more hang-arounds. Hang-arounds were those who wanted to join the Devil Savages by proving what they had to offer before given a cut and sponsored as a Prospect. Prospects had to prove themselves for a full year before patched in, and it wasn’t an easy twelve months by any means. Whatever the officers told them to do—they were expected to follow through with no questions asked. Unlike hang-arounds, Prospects were on call around the clock. If the ol’ ladies wanted a girls' night, it was their job to be their bodyguards and defend them with their own life if needed. When the patches and officers went on a run, they held down the fort at home and guarded the families. The few who were allowed to ride along were given the position of bike guards and stayed out of the way. They were the bitches of the club. Hang-arounds were worse. No club information was discussed around the hang-arounds. They were outsiders until they proved their worth and what they could bring to the Devil Savages family. Where there was gambling, there was alcohol, and it didn’t serve itself. Tits and slits boosted sales.
Rose watched as they walked out, feeling her cheeks heat and her knees grow weak when Tonto shot her a wink. She hurried to their table to clean it off for the next group waiting to be seated, almost fainting when she spotted the wad of cash left in the middle of the table. “Holy shit,” she whispered in shock. This one tip was more than she made in a week, with overtime. There was no way in hell she was going to pansy out tonight, no matter how dangerous it was. As long as she kept her nose clean and stayed out of trouble, this could be a once in a lifetime shot. Hell, maybe she could start saving to get her own place one day. Right now, her mom needed her to help with the bills and with watching over Lacey and Alice who were seventeen, Ariel who was sixteen, Isabella who was almost five, and Matt who had just turned two. Bella and Matt were the product of her mother’s whoring around, born into a life they didn’t have a choice in.
The twins were the worst. Every weekend she had to drag them from some party they snuck out to attend. The older they got, the harder they were to control. On most nights, Isabella and Mattie were piled in her full size bed with her, making sleep a rare delicacy. Ariel was the little momma of the bunch, being mature way beyond her years. She had stepped in when their mother was out at the bars or working two jobs, never complaining. Her grade point average was the best in the school, and Rose knew it was her ticket out. Someday, Ariel would have a real life with a real career and get the hell away from this life—hopefully they all would.
At five o’clock, Rose dragged herself back into the break room and hung her apron before clocking out. It had been a long ass day, and her feet were killing her. “You headed home, Rosie?” Gerald, the old cook hollered at her. He was a sixty-five-year-old black man who could cook anything and everything. He also had taken it upon himself to look after Rose, filling in the fatherly roll when her dad split on them. She walked around the corner to the kitchen and gave him a hug.
“Yeah, I gotta run home and get cleaned up for a job interview tonight.”
“Girl, you are dead on your feet. What you gettin’ another job for?” he drawled in a thick Louisianan accent.
“Bills. Food. Kids. There’s never enough. Hell, I don’t know if two jobs will even help. You need to hurry up and win the lotto, Gerald. Move us far away from this place.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek and smiled, hoping to ease his worry.
“Someday, sugar. You’re too sweet and purdy to stay stuck in a place like this. Be careful gettin’ home now, ya hear?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rose grabbed her purse and keys off the hook and hustled out the door.
Chapter Two
Rose checked herself one last time in her rearview mirror, dabbing on a coat of lipstick before she headed into Devil’s Den. She wasn’t big on cosmetics, but had layered it on thick, complete with smoky eyes and red lipstick. Instead of the average girl next door that normally stared back at her, there was a hot woman she didn’t recognize. She felt sexy and just the boost she needed to follow through and not hightail it back to the safety of her house. The parking lot was packed, making her park all the way out on the back forty on the grass. There were so many bikes it put Sturgis to shame. Row after row of pure American muscle filled most of the area, leaving the last few rows for cars and trucks. When she stepped out of the car, her heels sunk in the mud making walking almost impossible. By the time she hit pavement, her calves were burning and she was pretty sure there were blisters swelling up on her heels.
Great.
The roar of the crowd echoed out around her, amped up in bloodlust ready for the fights. The sounds clouded with the thick humidity making it hard to breathe. Rose sucked a gulp of the pollutant deep in her lungs to steady her nerves. She reached down and smoothed her clothing, thinking twice about her wardrobe choice, growing more and more apprehensive by the second. The little black leather mini skirt paired with black stilettos made her legs appear longer and leaner. She had chosen a pink tank top that dipped low in the front to accent her large chest and give an ample amount of cleavage without coming off too slutty. Standing there ready to face what waited ahead, she felt naked. Just as her nerves got the better of her and she was about to bolt, the door swung open. Rose looked up, staring at a towering Tonto.
Tonto looked down at the little brunette, doing a double take at what he saw. Not much rattled him. He was surrounded by willing and ready snatch every day, and yet this little vanilla cupcake sucked his attention better than Red sucked cock, which said a lot considering the little cunt could suck a golf ball through a water hose while being double fucked in the ass, and without dribbling a single drop. The innocent little mouse was decked out looking good enough to eat. “You’re early. I’m surprised you showed.” His eyes roamed over her, taking in every hot little curve and dip. His height gave him a perfect view down her cleavage, making his balls draw up painfully tight. Fuck me. Where has this little sexy bitch been hidin
“I don’t believe in being late. Thank you again for seeing me.” She squared her shoulders, giving herself a false dose of confidence.
“You’re good to see, baby.” He held the door open for her, locking his eyes on her ass as she swayed in front of him. Mmm. I might need to test out all her talents.
Rose about tripped. Did Tonto, the President of the infamous Devil Savages, just flirt with her? She wanted to jump up and down, but despite looking like a total ass, she knew there was no way her tiny lace bra would keep the girls from bouncing out the top of her shirt. The moment she stepped through the doors, her senses went on overload. The walls were painted dark, leaving the main focal point the octagon ring in the middle of the stadium. On both sides were two semi-circle rows of seats, going up into the nosebleed section. People of all shapes and sizes were around her, dressed from business suits to tiny scraps of material barely covering nipple and crotch. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes invaded her nose making her sneeze. Her little ‘achoo’ came out in a squeak, getting an amused smirk from him over his shoulder. How the hell did he hear it over the deafening music and screams that blare from all directions? As they entered the main room, Rose was stopped by the crowd. Tonto took her hand and stepped forward, parting them like the Red Sea. People literally stepped on top of each other to get out of his way. She knew he was intimidating, but this was ridiculous. Girls jumped out at him from every direction, offering drinks and rubbing against him like bitches in heat. If she weren’t so shell-shocked, she would have puked.
He led her to the back and up a narrow dim staircase that led into a long corridor. He unlocked the first door to their left and ushered her inside, shutting it behind them. Inside wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. The flooring had black plush carpet that worked great with the blood red walls and black leather furniture. A huge flat screen television perched on the far wall, taking up the entire space. In the corner was a desk with a door directly behind it. It was…comfortable. “Have a seat.” He waltzed over and plopped down on the couch, staring at her in wait. She jumped and scurried to the chair that sat opposite of him and sat on the edge, her body rigid and uptight. His stare lingered, penetrating her. The longer the silence dragged on, the more she seized up.
She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Is there something I should be doing? I didn’t see a fridge, but would you like something to drink?” He didn’t answer. His grey eyes cut straight to her soul. Why is he not talking? What did I do wrong? Please don’t let this be one of those places that expects sexual favors. No job is worth that. I’ll just have to double up hours at the diner…maybe I can get something down at the factory. Yeah, time to go…before this gets ugly. “Look, I’m sorry for wasting your time. I can see that I’m not qualified for the job so I’ll just be going now. Thanks again for your time.” She stood and took a step toward the door when he finally broke his monk silence.
“Sit. Here.” He pointed to the cushion next to him. The corners of his lips tilted up ever so slightly, breaking his stone-cold poker face. All of her radars went off at the same time. She had heard about people who had set up fake interviews and schemed the potential interviewees into participating in sexual acts then found it uploaded on the internet before they even got home. Fuck to the no. She was not going to be an amateur porn star, no matter how much money they promised. Her mother on the other hand would have jumped on the opportunity. Maybe she should pass the word…at least the woman would be helping with the bills. She kept her legs spread and was on her back most of the time anyway. Anger raged through Rose at not only the situation but her thoughts too. Had he heard about her mom? Is that why he called her in here? Fuck, her life was one huge white trash train wreck with no light at the end of the tunnel except the oncoming engine that threatened to plow her into hell. Whether it was pent up anger and hurt from the last twenty-three years of her existence or fear of never getting out and having a life, she exploded.
“Listen, I’m not sure what this is all about but I think there has been a misunderstanding. I came here for a job, not to fall on my knees and suck my way to the top. I was under the impression there was a legit position open that didn’t require me turning into one of the whores who fall at your feet. I have five kids at home that all seem to think they need food, clothing, and a roof over their head. Have a great night.” Sarcasm oozed from every word. A deep rumble started deep in Tonto’s chest, erupting into laughter. Not just a snicker or chuckle, but a full-out gut-clenching laugh that confused the hell out of her. Embarrassment began to set in and she shook her head, fighting tears of anger and humiliation. Before she got the door open, he stood and walked over to her, grabbing her hand.
“Rose, I have no idea what you’ve heard about me and truthfully don’t give a fuck. Now, please come sit so we can discuss the terms of your contract. I assure you, making a low-grade porn flick is not my intentions. Even a blind man can see you aren’t a porn star.”
She didn’t pull away. Why you may ask? Because the moment their touch met, her body decided to take over and melt. Right after her righteous whore speech, her body decided to jump onboard the slutty express and demand action. The irony was cruel. His blow to her ego didn’t help either. No, she wasn’t trashy porn star material…but knowing he didn’t see her as sexy enough stung like a wasp. God she was fucked up.
He led her back over to the couch and sat next to her, propping casually back in the corner. Rose knew she should apologize or back peddle but couldn’t find the words. Instead, she sat waiting for his reaction like a kid called in by the principal.
“You have five kids?” Of all the things for him to address from her little meltdown, that’s what held his interest. Go figure.
“God no! Well, they might as well be…I’m the one raising them.”
“Where are your parents?” His eyes were narrowed in on her, seeming truly interested. How did she answer this without blowing her chances? Hell, it couldn’t get worse than it already was.
“My dad left when we were young. Mom spends all her time hopping from one biker to the next in hopes he will be a knight in shining armor, instead of another guy looking for a quick fuck. Instead of helping, she popped out two more to feed. I’ve raised Lizzy and Matt pretty much on my own,” she sounded brass, but it was the truth. He shouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want it upfront. Rose never was one to sugarcoat stuff except to the kids. Heming and hawing around the truth never helped anything.
“I see. Who is taking care of them while you work then?” He lit a cigarette, pulling an ashtray out of a hidden compartment in the side table.
“The twins are seventeen and help when they aren’t out getting into trouble. Most of the time Ariel ends up with them unless it is a rare occasion when mom has run out of bikers and looking for another sleazy club to make her way through.” She loved her mother. It was hard to voice the truth, but in a way, it felt good to verbalize it. She lived with the reality alone day after day, always making excuses for her. Not now.
Once again, the little hot ass shocked him. So…she knew some on the ins and outs of club life and yet…here she was. He understood where her cattiness came from about the situation but still felt his irritation at her negativity about clubs. He blew it off, rationalizing that most of the clubs were sleazy. The Mexicans brought in drugs, which ended up in the schools. Not only was it bad that kids were getting ahold of the shit—most of the drug were bad. Kids were knocking off like flies. The Devil Savages might be mean muther fuckers, but when it came to women and children they were relentless. No one fucked with kids and got away with it. They had been intercepting deals and making false buys in an attempt to take them out from the source. A lot of the fuckers had been disposed of, but for every grave, a hundred more were needed. They were the scum of the earth.
“Main events are usually Friday and Saturday nights. That’s where the money is. We have others during the week but they don’t dish out as much. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle it…until a few minutes ago. As annoying as your little outburst was, it shows you have a backbone. You can’t take shit from anyone here. You show any weakness and they will eat you alive. Do you think you can handle it?” His expression was doubtful, which pissed her off.
Rose leaned forward, allowing the front of her shirt to dip ever so slightly. She kept her head tilted down and glanced up through her long lashes with her best seductive smile. “I can handle just about anything, Mr….” She froze. He had never given his real name, and for some odd reason she thought ‘Mr. Dark mysterious walking orgasm who rode a bike and killed people before they knew what happened’ wouldn’t quite be appropriate given she actually wanted the job.
“Tonto is fine, Rose. Let’s get you in uniform then. The fights start in thirty. It’ll give you time to get the rundown from the girls before announcements.” He stood and walked over to the closed door behind the desk, returning with a small stack of clothing—if that’s what you want to call it. He handed it to her with a smug look, “You can change right here.” When Rose just stared at him, he shook his head, "or in there," as he nodded toward the room he had just exited. She plastered on her game face and smiled, thanking him for the job. It wasn’t until after she got into the small room and unfolded the so-called uniform that it hit her. These outfits were smaller than the ones at the casino. A pair of fish net thigh highs, a little skirt with a matching thong and a halter top with a plunging neckline that reached her belly button. No garment tape—no bra—not even pasties. She hoped to hell the outfit was tight enough to stay in place. She was well-endowed up top and it wouldn’t take much for a total wardrobe malfunction. A knock at the door got her in gear, stripping out of her idea of a skimpy outfit and into a Band-Aid with lace. Perfect. She slipped her heels back on and walked out, with her chin high. If she looked down, there was a good possibility she would run and hide.
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