“Fuck yeah.” I snort again and shake my head as if that’s clearing the cobwebs. “What’d I miss?” I nod, looking at Blade who has stopped talking to stare at me.
“You okay?” He frowns as his phone lights up with a text.
“Like a hundred dollars.” My head instantly clears.
“Christ.” He grins. “You were right. We are getting fucked in the ass by someone. Frosty’s found them on the footage.”
I snort as the drip slides down my throat and I wipe up the last of the powder and rub my gums. “Who is it?”
“I’m running the faces through a database, but they’re smart enough not to ever show much,” Frosty says, typing on his computer.
The huge wide screen hanging in the corner comes to life. He fast-forwards as various Disciples walk in and out on screen, and he freezes it.
“There, this guy… and this guy. See them taking out the box? That’s not one of us.” He leans back in his chair, swiveling around to turn to me.
“Motherfucker.” I stand and walk to the TV.
“Take it easy, Axel. It’s smart. They did it in plain sight and they blended in.” Blade takes a sip of Jack Daniels straight from the bottle, a sign that he’s trying not to lose his shit.
“How the fuck did this happen? Who was there that day? Rewind it,” I demand.
“It was Ducky and Torque along with six prospects,” Frosty answers as he continues to type. I probably should be drinking with Blade instead of doing coke—it’s making me aggressive.
“Why are they not here?” I swing toward Ryder. As our enforcer, this falls on him.
He stands. Ryder is six feet and five inches of solid muscle. He used to have long dark hair and a beard. Until he showed up one day clean-shaven and with a buzz cut. I still do double takes looking at him.
“Poet. Deal with Axel. I have shit to deal with besides beating his ornery ass this morning.”
Ryder motions with his phone at David who’s been silent. In fact, I forgot he was even there.
Amy marches in carrying my Bloody Mary and a platter with scrambled eggs, bagels, and bacon. Rip jumps up to take the platter and she sets the Bloody in my spot.
“Thanks, Amy.”
David stands and walks her to the door, then turns to look at Blade and me. “It’s ten a.m.”
I look at him and snort. “Just because you’re sober—”
“Shut up, Axel, or Ryder can beat your ass.” He lights up a cigarette, his silver eyes daring me to talk. He’s right though. I’m being a dick, and taking my foul mood out on my brothers is pointless.
“What’s going on with you?” As he inhales, his silver eyes narrow on me.
I reach for my Bloody Mary. The cool glass almost makes me want to rub it on my fevered face.
“Rough night,” I grumble as I tip the glass and guzzle half of it. The spicy tomato juice has exactly the right amount of Worcestershire and lemon, making me decide that I need another one if I’m gonna be brave enough to look at my phone, which is lit up with messages and missed calls.
“Prospect.” I point. “Go tell Amy to make us a pitcher of Bloody Marys.”
Turning to Blade, I say, “Trust me, you’re gonna want one.” I rub the back of my neck as I glance at Rip who was with me to the bitter end last night. He looks like shit, but at least he made it here on time.
“You get her out of your system?” He grins at me.
Both David and Blade stop texting and look up from their phones. Even Frosty stops typing on his laptop.
“What the fuck happened?” Blade reaches for the bottle. His eyes narrow on Rip and he turns to me.
“I told you. Rough night.”
Rip snorts. If it didn’t make me look like I had something to hide, I’d punch him in his sanctimonious face.
“Is there something going on that I need to know about?” Blade pushes back his chair so he can prop his boots on the table.
“Nope.” I reach for my phone more to block out all of their stares. I guess I’d rather deal with Crystal.
I tap the green message bubble only to be greeted by a ton of middle finger and angry-face emojis.
Crystal: 5:00 p.m.
Where the fuck R U?
5:03 p.m.
I’m not fucking around Axel. I been here all day. Get over here! Do your job.
5:05 p.m.
If U have turned off your phone!
6:00 p.m.
Fuck you!!!
7:30 p.m.
I’m leaving. The place is packed but I didn’t sign up for this shit. Derrick is out of surgery and is pissed. DISAPPOINTED, ASSHOLE!!!!
11:00 p.m.
U suck!
I’m about to text her when this comes in:
9:46 a.m.
Morning. Never mind.
I sit up in my chair and blink at the phone. Maybe I need another bump because that last text made the hair stand up on my neck. What has she done?
“Jesus, Axel.” Blade frowns. “You okay, man?”
With a sigh, I reach for my Bloody and down it. “I need to call Crystal. She’s pissed.”
He snorts, reaching for one of David’s cigarettes. “She’s always pissed.”
“This time, she’s in the right,” I mumble, looking up as the prospect I sent for Bloodys barrels in with a pitcher.
“Yeahhh… Amy hooked us up.”
I motion for him to pour us some as I light up a cigarette and scroll through the rest of my messages. Strangely there’s not one from Derrick. This should make me happy. Instead the headache the cocaine took away minutes ago returns.
“Anyone hear from Derrick?”
I take another deep breath, reaching for my fresh Bloody and dumping out some more coke. David and Blade look at each other.
“What?” I lower my head to snort, then sit back and look at them.
“Nothing, brother. Carry on.” Blade nods, takes a deep inhale, and puts the cigarette out. Eve hates him smoking, so he rarely does and saves it for when shit is going down.
I push on Crystal’s number. The coke is definitely helping with my guilt. When it goes to her voice mail, I grit my teeth.
I push on it again. This time it rings. “Good morning, Axel.” Her voice is clipped.
“Crystal, I’m sorry. Last night got crazy—”
“No problem. I took care of everything. In fact, if you aren’t feeling up to it tonight, don’t worry about it.” My finger, which has been tracing a large crack in the wooden table stops.
“What the hell? I said I was sorry. I’ll be in tonight.” My body’s on edge. What has she done that she doesn’t want me to find out about?
She lets out a laugh and I hear girls giggling. Making myself relax, I decide to lay off the coke—it’s making me paranoid. I mean, what could she have done?
“Okay, whatever you feel’s best. I’ve got it handled. I do need to go. I’m training the new girls.” Her voice sounds way too cheerful.
And that’s it.
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about them. There’s one named Cookie. She is a definite no. I think she’s crazy. So, if you hired her, fire her.” I glance over at Blade who’s at the window talking with David and Rip.
They stop and turn to look at me. I almost throw my phone at the wall. Instead I repeat, “Crystal, did you hear me? I’m not fucking around about this.”
“Axel, I have to remind you that I have final say but…” I’m about to go off on her when she says, “That being said, I did not hire a Cookie.”
I lean back in the chair, my hand rubbing my chest. Because for a split second I’m disappointed and that’s fucking absurd. I close my eyes and there she is, my ethereal princess seducing me. Dancing for me.
“Got to go.” Crystal’s voice brings me back to the now. Clearly all my self-medicating has done nothing to get rid of her.
“So, no Cookie?”
“Nope. No one by that name. Get some rest, Axel. You sound tired.” The line goes dead.
; I lean forward for the pitcher and pour myself another Bloody Mary only to hear Blade say, “Pussycat. All of us tonight.”
ANTOINETTE
I’m exhausted and my night hasn’t even started. I got up early this morning to walk to the restaurant I used to work at and happily quit.
They seemed fine with it and gave me my final paycheck. I went to the bank and deposited it, which allowed me enough money to buy some black stripper heels. On impulse, I bought a red wig. It was 60 percent off and I splurged. I keep telling myself it’s an investment, so I don’t feel guilty.
The only downside of my day was that I needed to talk to Ryan, my landlord. The jerk wouldn’t open his door and I know he was there. I heard his crappy music playing. I pounded on his door for a solid ten minutes. When the music got louder, I slipped a note under his door explaining that I need more time to get him his money. I know he said tomorrow, but that’s ridiculous. He needs to be reasonable.
Closing my eyes, I roll my neck, my poor muscles screaming in protest. I barely got a shower in when Crystal called, demanding I come in for a crash course on pole dancing.
I breathe through the pain. Swinging on a pole is way harder than it looks. Lifting my leg up to my ear, I stretch. This particular move always centers me.
My eyes sweep the club. It’s crowded with a lot of men. The trendy outfits and suits reek of money. Girls are dancing, waitresses are laughing and delivering drinks, and music is pulsing almost as if it’s an extra heartbeat.
“I’m gonna puke. What about you?” Frenchie, one of the other new girls, grabs my arm as she looks out at the club. Her wide-eyed look tells me she’s terrified.
“Just try to have fun.” I smile at her. It would be nice to have a friend and she seems friendly.
She bites her lower lip and looks at the stage, then nods at me. Both of us get to start on the VIP stage, which must be a big deal because a stripper named Roxy threw a fit when Crystal announced it.
Crystal, who yesterday acted like a bitch, has taken a huge interest in Frenchie and me today. Well, me especially. She spent hours teaching me a simple-but-hot routine for tonight.
“Hey, do you know how much we can make?” I ask. “Like have any of the other girls said anything about money?”
Frenchie stares at all the people coming in. “Oh my God. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” She puts her hand to her chest.
The lights start dancing different colors as the girls twirl and strip downstairs. Lasers flash red and purple making the club pulse with an energy that is thick and sexy.
This place screams erotic. It’s only 6:00 p.m. I don’t go on for another hour, but I’m ready. I don’t care if it’s stripping. It’s dancing. Also, getting paid money to flash my tits and shake my ass is rather forbidden. With my wig, I feel like I’m someone else.
“Frenchie.” I snap my fingers. “Money. How much are we looking at?”
“Oh sorry, I was freakin’ out.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Um, some make a thousand a night. Others make more. At least, that’s what I hear.”
I turn to her. “A thousand dollars? Is that true?” I almost want to shake her. She looks a little pale, which is hard to do with the amount of makeup we’re wearing.
She smiles. “Why do you think I’m here? You look great by the way. I love your outfit and wig. I bet Axel will want you tonight.”
“Who’s Axel?” In my mind, I’m already adding all the money up. I need to beg Crystal to let me work every night this week.
“Oh, are we not supposed to know about you guys?” She frowns, then grabs my hand and leans in close since the music is loud. “Tell me… does he really have a giant cock?”
She squeals, reminding me of Betty Boop. She’s got the dark curly hair, pale face, and red lips down. She’s also wearing a tiny black dress with red stripper shoes.
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on,” she snips. “I thought we were friends.” She narrows her eyes.
I shake my head. “I’m completely confused. Seriously, I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.”
She rolls her eyes, dropping my hands. “Okay, we’ll pretend that you and he are nothing more than friends if that makes you happy.” She turns to watch a girl twirl on a pole. “You know he used to be in a band, right? Like he played with Rhys Granger.” She looks at me.
“Who? I love the Stuffed Muffins.” And I honestly do. I’m a huge Rhys Granger fan and the Stuffed Muffins is one of my favorite bands.
“Wait. This Axel guy is a musician?”
“Whatever, Candy.” She rolls her eyes and yells over Dr. Dre’s “Still D. R. E.”
“If you guys aren’t a thing, I’m gonna to see if I can fuck him tonight. All the seasoned girls say he likes new girls since he never stays with anyone for long.”
I look over at a few men in suits who are holding drinks and motioning to a waitress.
“Cat… I mean Frenchie, by all means if you want this Axel… go get him.”
That does the trick. Her face transforms from bitchy girl to sweet best friend. “Cool.” I smile and nod at her.
Visions of the dark-haired god with blue eyes invade my thoughts again. This is becoming a real problem.
I refuse to acknowledge that I woke up this morning having to masturbate thinking about him. And what’s worse is I did it again in the shower before I came in for my shift. It’s like I’m borderline obsessed with someone I can’t have.
God, he was even in my dreams last night and that has never happened. Well, one time I dreamed of Justin Bieber going down on me, but that doesn’t count since I can’t stand Justin Bieber.
“You know he’s like the real deal. Full-on VP. Nobody fucks with him. He’ll kill them.” She laughs like this is a good thing.
“What?”
I’m horrified. Whoever this Axel is, he should not be allowed in the club if he kills people. And why would she think I’m with such a person? I go to ask her, but she grabs my hand, digging her nails into my wrist.
“Omgomgomg… I can’t go on. It’s them.”
“Frenchie. Stop it. You’re acting crazy. Who?” I look out into the crowd downstairs and see a bunch of people, nothing more.
“Them.” She points a finger to a group of men talking to some of the strippers. At first, I don’t care. It’s dark. The lights are working their magic, but then they move, and I simply stare.
“Are you kidding? This sucks. No Axel.” Frenchie puts her hand on my shoulder so she can stand to look on her tiptoes in her ridiculous five- maybe six-inch heels.
“God, I wish Blade wasn’t married and fucking in love with his wife,” she whines. “He’s so hot and the president.”
She’s lost me again, but she’s so excited I let her ramble. “Crystal used to be his old lady. Oh wow.” She grabs my arm. “Even Poet is here tonight.”
I want to ask her what an old lady, a Blade, and a Poet are. But I kind of have a brain freeze as I stare at the men she’s pointing at.
“Who are they?”
She rolls her eyes again and stomps her foot. I’m beginning to think we might not be friends.
“The Disciples!” Her eyes are wide like I should know what that means. She must see that I have no clue.
“They’re a motorcycle club, one percenters.” Again, she seems to find this exciting.
“I’m determined to get one of them.” She tosses her hair off her shoulders. I give her a supportive nod, then turn back to watch them.
I have to agree with Frenchie. All of these men are hot, but there’s something almost terrifying that makes me want to stay away. My eyes zero in on their vests. Holy God, they wear the same one Mitchell wore.
Suddenly, a sliver of dread snakes up my spine. When he said he was in a motorcycle club yesterday, I was thinking like Charlie Hunnam in Sons of Anarchy. Even though I never saw the show, Charlie is hot and Mitchell is hot and beautiful.
As I look around for him, my heart ra
ces. He’s not here. I take a deep breath. Why is this freaking me out? I didn’t technically lie. He said talk to Crystal, and I did. I have absolutely nothing to worry about.
Straightening my shoulders, I refuse to let this throw me. I look like a different person anyway. With the long red wig and all the makeup, I don’t even recognize myself. Gone is Toni. Candy is alive, and Candy is going to make at least a $1,000 tonight.
“Okay,” Frenchie says. “I’m gonna go mingle. Maybe I can get a lap dance before I go on. That’s where we can make serious money.” She looks at me.
“Really?”
And my mind instantly goes to yesterday. I see him and feel him. I can’t seem to let it go.
She reaches for my hand. “You know what… I need to visit the restroom. I’ll be right back. You go get them.”
“Wait, Frenchie.”
But she’s gone and now the biker guys are ruining my excitement. I back away, already mad at myself. This is stupid. If that’s where the money is, that’s what I should be doing. Not running to the dressing room to hide. Yet that’s exactly what I do.
AXEL
“What the fuck are you saying?”
I should have sedated myself instead of partying the rest of the day with Rip and Ox. My patience was at zero three hours ago. So, hearing Snipe, my head of security, inform me that Vladimir, our Russian arms distributor, is here and demanding to go up to the VIP area makes my head pound. Vlad is a complete thug and has worked his way up the Russian mafia ladder. That’s why he’s dangerous.
“You’re in charge of making sure no one knows anything. Secrets do not get leaked, Snipe. I’m fucking not happy about this.”
“It might have been a coincidence.” His chiseled features look more pronounced than usual. Don’t get me wrong—it’s rare that Snipe smiles, but tonight he’s snarling.
“Darrell is asking what you want to do.”
Lighting a cigarette, I pull out my cell, shaking my head at Snipe and Andre, his right-hand man. “Let them up. I’m texting Blade right now.” My gaze moves to the monitors. The Pussycat is packed. All the top girls are on, working the poles. The VIP area is at capacity and the lap dance rooms are already booked, some already in use. Andre types on his phone and the camera aimed at the VIP entrance zeroes in.
Ignite (The Disciples Book 4) Page 6