Tripp (Knights Corruption MC Series Book 4)

by S. Nelson

  “A please would be nice, brother,” Hawke responded, pounding down the steps so hard I swore I heard one of them crack. He tossed me the bottle before plopping down on a metal stool in the corner, rubbing his hand over his head. His hair was finally growing back after having been balded when his woman had found out he’d cheated on her. Their relationship had taken a turn after the incident which still gutted my little brother.

  “You actually left Edana’s side?” I asked in surprise. Ever since his woman had been beaten and raped by some of Psych’s men, Hawke never left her alone, bringing her to the club every single time his presence was required. Marek had given him a short reprieve from dealing with some of the club’s business, the trips to the titty bars on hiatus until he knew Hawke could handle it without being distracted. I’d talked at length with him over what happened with Edana, but in the end he was the one who needed to come to grips with it and decide what needed to be done.

  “Yeah,” he answered, taking a slow pull on his bottle. “I figured it was time for me to step up and start doin’ my part again.”

  I’d always been protective over my younger brother, going to bat for him and sometimes helping him clean up his messes. An incident happened a few years back, a scuffle with some random guy who went after him after finding out Hawke had fucked his wife. And because I was tired of jumping to his defense because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, I’d stepped back and let the guy get in a few good punches, my arms crossed over my chest, just watching the two of them battle it out. I knew Hawke could handle his own, even with traces of alcohol flowing through his blood, so it was merely seconds before my sibling had the man on his back, turning the tables and beatin’ the shit out of him. I’d finally intervened when I saw that Hawke was doing some damage, dragging him off the half-conscious man. I’d also warned him that the next time he messed with a married chick and the husband found out, I’d jump in with the stranger and help teach Hawke a lesson.

  One glance at the Reapers’ leader and Hawke’s eyes darkened with anger. “So what are we doin’ to him today?”

  “I think he’s in need of a bit of a stretch, don’tcha think?” I grinned, glancing at Psych to see if he was even aware he had company. The slight shuffle of his feet indicated he was, and I had no doubt he knew he was in for one helluva day.

  Nothing but pain.

  Reece

  “Two minutes,” Carla announced as she walked up behind me, looking at me through the mirror in front of my station. “Then you’re up, hon.” Even after a month of working at Indulge, nerves still managed to rattle me before each performance, something I feared would never go away. Then again, the moment I became comfortable with this job should be the exact moment I quit.

  Carla disappeared to attend to the other girls, mending some of the outfits for the night’s performances. The club’s manager used to be a stripper, but all that ended the day she met her husband, Brian. She’d stopped taking off her clothes for money but stayed in the business to help the younger girls starting out, offering advice and keeping them out of trouble.

  In the short time since I’d known Carla, she’d helped me tremendously, teaching me how to deescalate any situation, learning to read the men’s body language and how to protect myself if they ever got a bit rough. I’d never had anyone look out for me before, and Carla would forever have my gratitude for seeing me as a person and not just an object. A commodity to own and possess.

  Adjusting my auburn wig, I finished my makeup with another coat of mascara before standing and assessing the costume I’d chosen for my routine—a naughty schoolgirl outfit. Cliché but it worked, arousing the customers to ensure tips would be plentiful. With one final glance in the mirror I headed for the door, my heart thrumming fast.

  “Good luck, sweetheart,” Carla shouted behind me. I turned halfway around, enough to flash her an appreciative smile before focusing on what came next.

  The whole stripping scene was new to me, but it provided me with an income, something I was never allowed to have before. Refusing to even think about my past, I focused on the remaining beats of the current song, blew out a long breath, and strode toward the back of the stage. I was up next.

  I lost myself to the rhythm of my routine, allowing the spotlight to block the prying eyes watching my every move. The club was almost at capacity, which was both good and bad. I would surely go home with enough money to cover my room and put some food in the mini fridge that was supplied at the motel, but because of the number of patrons, I would surely be putting Carla’s advice to good use. Most of the men were well on their way to Drunkville, their eyes surely not the only thing trying to get their fill of me that evening.

  With each piece of clothing I removed my mind hid, drifting off to the only time I’d felt safe, loved—my childhood. Memories of vacations with my parents filtered in. Playing Army with my older brother because where we lived there were no other children. Escaping to my room after I’d been punished for misbehaving, only to have my mom come and comfort me. She’d explain why I’d been in trouble but always made sure to tell me she loved me to the moon and back, kissing my forehead before giving me her stern look telling me that I was still grounded. My dad calling me his little princess as he twirled me around in his arms, blowing raspberries on my cheeks until I laughed so hard I could barely breathe.

  As the song increased in tempo, unwanted scenes barreled forth. Tears pricked behind my eyes but I refused to allow them to fall. My whole world imploded the night two police officers knocked on our door.

  An accident.

  Icy roads.

  One driver, two passengers.

  No survivors.

  Thrusting myself back into the present, I focused on the numerous strangers watching me while I danced to the music, counting the seconds until I could disappear backstage once more.

  Tripp

  “I need you to take my place at Jagger’s fight tonight,” Stone said, straddling the barstool next to me. “Addy’s goin’ to her dad’s for dinner.” He tapped the bar and signaled for Trigger to grab him a beer. The resident bartender scowled and disappeared in the back, completely ignoring Stone’s request altogether. Those two didn’t have the best history, not since Stone went against club rule and got involved with Trigger’s niece, Adelaide. Now the mother of his kid.

  Hell, he and I didn’t have the best relationship either. He forever gave me shit about hittin’ on his woman, but he’d got it all wrong. Adelaide cared for me after I’d been dropped off at the gates of the club, shot four fuckin’ times, bleeding out and left for dead. It was Adelaide who had nursed me back to health, and because of the bond we shared, our friendship had blossomed. Which was quite odd for me, seeing as how she was the only true female friend I had. I innocently flirted with her, sure, but who wouldn’t—the woman was gorgeous. But she was more like a sister to me, and as time passed Stone had come around to the fact that I would never fuck someone I viewed as family.

  Don’t get me wrong, Stone and I battled. Quite a few times. Shit, he even punched me in the face for puttin’ my hands on her belly when she was pregnant with Riley. But I let it slide because, as a man, I understood his possessiveness. Didn’t stop me from fuckin’ with him, though.

  Every once in a while I could still rile him enough to throw me daggers.

  “If she’s goin’ to her dad’s, then why do I have to take your place at the fight?” I lifted my beer and drained the remaining liquid.

  “’Cause Riley is sick and I need to stay home with her. Addy hasn’t seen her dad in quite a while and doesn’t want to cancel.” Leaning over the bar, he grabbed a mug and poured himself a drink before sitting back down. “That good enough of an excuse for you?”

  “What’s your problem?” Certainly used to Stone’s aggravated tone, I knew when something was amiss.

  “Nothin’, man. Just . . . I don’t know. Shit, I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Tipping his head back, he swallowed half his drink in
two gulps. “Besides, I sure as hell ain’t talking about Addy with you.” Gone was his usual tone of contempt, replaced with a slight wave of familiarity, as if he didn’t completely hate me.

  Slapping his back, I gave him something to contemplate. “Well, if you ever wanna talk. . . .” I left it at that, not about to get all sentimental with Stone’s ornery ass. He knew where to find me if he needed to get somethin’ off his chest. Although I imagined he’d seek out Marek before anyone else, seeing how close the two of them were.

  The club’s VP opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut when his phone rang. Pulling it from the inside of his cut, he glanced at the screen before answering. “Hey,” he said before vacating his stool and walking toward the room he used when at the clubhouse. I had no doubt his wife was on the other end of that call.

  The rest of the day passed quickly. Nothin’ much goin’ on at the club besides making sure everyone took their turns visiting Psych.

  I accompanied Ryder to Jagger’s fight, standing guard outside the dismal office inside the ratty old warehouse until the prize money was secure. Ever since Jagger had killed a guy in the ring, the younger brother of a Reaper, he’d become the hot ticket of the underground fighting world. The prize money quadrupled and because Jagger was still undefeated, the pot grew with each bout.

  “All good?” I asked, moving to the side as soon as the office door opened.

  “Yup,” Jagger answered, his black duffel bag swung over his shoulder as he walked past me. He instantly sought out his woman, having no patience for anyone else. Kena was huddled in the corner with her sister, Braylen, and of course Ryder was close by. The guy wouldn’t admit it but he had it bad for her. He tried to play it off as nothing more than sex, but I noticed the way he watched Braylen when he thought no one was paying attention.

  Kena’s hands were going a million miles a minute and after Jagger responded, she grabbed his hands and smiled. When Kena was an infant, she’d contracted a virus, which had damaged the nerves in her larynx, prohibiting her from ever uttering a single word. Jagger had learned sign language in order to communicate with her, but there were times when he messed up, like right then.

  “What did you tell her this time?”

  “Shut up, man. You try and learn this shit and not mess up.” Jagger’s frustrations quickly disappeared when his woman signed something before kissing him.

  I grinned as I turned my attention to Ryder. “You almost ready?”

  “Fuck yeah I am.” He looked pissed, which wasn’t out of the ordinary where he was concerned, especially when Braylen was around. I swore those two were always arguing about something. “Remind me I can’t strangle her,” he mumbled as he brushed past me, completely ignoring the blonde-haired woman walking briskly behind him.

  “I heard that,” she shouted, smacking his arm when she’d finally caught up to him.

  Shaking my head, I turned back to Jagger. “You’re set to go there now, right?” He was up next in the rotation at the safe house.

  “Yeah, Kena and Braylen drove so I’m right behind you. Just let me say good-bye first.” Taking her hand, he led Kena past me and out of the dank building where he’d won yet another fight.

  The newly patched-in member took joy in dishing out pain on the bastard shackled in the basement. Psych dared to orchestrate the kidnapping of Kena and Adelaide. And to make matters even more serious, he’d been brazen enough to put his hands on Jagger’s woman.

  I’d only been paired with Jagger a few times since we’d taken Psych, and every time I inwardly cringed, witnessing the former prospect’s rage toward the leader of the Savage Reapers. Or I should say ex-leader, seeing as how his life was gonna be snatched soon enough. Although, if it were up to Marek, Psych would live the next ten years rotting away in that basement.

  Once outside, Jagger and Ryder walked the women to their car. Kena was all smiles while Braylen’s scowl was enough to make me flinch. A couple of minutes later, the two men strolled back to where we’d parked and straddled their rides. We all kicked over the engines at the same time, the rumble of the three bikes sounding like fifty, echoing around us in the empty streets.

  A sense of calm descended over me as I gripped the throttle, picked my legs off the pavement and drove off down the street. Jagger and I hooked a right toward the safe house while Ryder turned left, no doubt headed back toward the clubhouse. Something had been bothering Ryder lately, and I knew it was more than the arguments with Braylen, but damn if he clammed up every time I asked why he had a stick up his ass. Instead of answering, he would grunt and reach for a beer. If and when he got his hands on hard alcohol, then and only then would I be truly concerned.

  The hard shit and Ryder just didn’t mix. I’d witnessed it a couple times and never wished to again. That man had some demons lurking inside him, and for some reason his whole personality completely changed with the consumption of whiskey.

  Pushing thoughts of Ryder aside, I focused back on what I had to take care of in the upcoming week. After that night, I had a few days to myself, my only obligation making sure everything was running smoothly at Indulge.

  Little did I know a simple check-in at our newest titty bar would change everything.

  Reece

  Taking a deep breath, I shoved all nervousness aside as I stepped on stage. The music I’d selected began to play, the beat of the tune vibrating from the speakers and wrapping around me like some sort of blanket—which was an odd sentiment, seeing as how I was about to take off my clothes in front of a bunch of horny men. Losing myself to the music was the only way I managed to continue stripping. I closed my eyes and allowed the thrum of the song to live within me, swaying to the idea that my life was exactly where I wanted it to be.

  Which was false, of course.

  No little girl dreamed of dancing naked, straddling a pole while lusty men looked on. I certainly hadn’t. But I didn’t have a choice. When I mustered up enough courage to leave my life in the shadows, I had fifty dollars to my name. Taking my clothes off was the quickest way to make the money I needed to survive.

  Shield myself from my past as best I could and hope for a better life.

  A calm life.

  A safe life.

  Swinging my legs around the pole, I hoisted myself until I neared the top, slowly positioning my body until I was turned upside down. My strong thighs stabilized me while my hands gripped the pole so I didn’t fall if I accidentally slipped. Which had happened before, but thankfully only when I’d been practicing my routine, not live on stage.

  I unlocked my legs and spread them into a wide V, strategically placing my arms so I had a better hold. I slowly lowered my body until I reached the floor, going into a split before bouncing my ass up and down on the stage to the climax of the song. I soon let go of the pole, seductively crawling toward the edge of the stage and the men who were waving their money in the air.

  The outfit I’d chosen that evening was a men’s white dress shirt, buttons opened to my navel. The sleeves were rolled up twice and a dark gray tie hung loosely from my neck, dipping between my abundant cleavage. A hint of teasing without showing everything. Not until I decided to. Of course, what was underneath the shirt left very little to the imagination, the white lace thong barely covering me. I always wore wigs while working, a helpful tip from Carla. That night I wore a short blonde hairstyle, quite the contrast to my long chestnut-colored hair.

  I only had a few minutes left on stage, choosing a longer rendition of “Gone” by The Weekend. His voice was sultry and seductive, perfect for dancing and enticing men out of their hard-earned money. At my core, I was innocent and naïve, but whenever I stepped on stage I took on a different persona. A woman out to get as much from a man as I could. Ensnare them. Make them think they’re the only guy in the room. Make them want to keep watching me long enough to get paid.

  Pushing myself on my knees I slowly unbuttoned the rest of my shirt, pulling the material apart once the last button slipped through its
hole. Running my hands over my breasts, I shielded them from view until I’d received a few more bills tucked securely in the garter around my left thigh.

  “Let’s see those tits, sweetheart,” an older, balding man yelled, swaying from side to side from obvious intoxication.

  “Yeah,” his buddy agreed from behind him.

  Giving them both a sexy grin, I pointed to my garter. For as drunk as the bald guy was, he stuffed his money under the lace wrapped around my leg with ease.

  Gripping both sides of my shirt, I slowly pulled the material away from my body. This was the part I hated, losing what little clothing covered me. But it was part of the job, so I mentally flitted away from the scene in front of me. I never allowed myself to see the men once my shield had been stripped away.

  Their images all blurred together.

  Faceless people in the crowd.

  I knew it was my choice to strip, but it didn’t make it any easier. And since there was a strict no-drugs policy at the club I couldn’t even contemplate taking something to help numb me. I had to endure until I came up with a better way to support myself.

  If that ever happened.

  Shrugging the shirt off my shoulders, I tossed the material to the side of the stage. I knew what they expected and I gave it to them. Kneading my breasts, I pinched my erect nipples a few times before running my hands down my body. Knowing my song was coming to a close soon, I rose to my feet and sauntered toward the pole. Twirling a few times, I came to rest in front of it, sliding down slowly until my ass was a few inches from the ground. I played with the flimsy strands of my thong, teasing the men surrounding the stage with small glimpses of my bare pussy.

  Indulge was a fully nude club, and even though I was required to rid myself of all clothing, I chose to always do so when I didn’t have much time left on stage. Other dancers spread their legs wide when they bared themselves, but I never did.