“We have a fucking rat. Could be an innocent rat or it could be a fucking piece of shit greedy one. Either way, I want it found.”
I watch the monitor as Darrell and a prospect pat them down rather than use the wand. He steps back and nods at the camera.
“I don’t want to deal with any more shit tonight. You make sure the boys understand that. Nothing.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Snipe talks into his earpiece informing all the bouncers of my exact words.
The room crackles with bad energy. Snipe and Andre are the ones who let me know someone was starting shit. Little things from our trucks and warehouses went missing. Small things, but lately the thieves are growing bolder.
The Russians showing up tonight is all-around fucked up. I watch as they walk straight up the stairs. Their greed and arrogance are a dangerous combination. Blade and I have been trying to decide if we want to back away from them.
Fosters has been talking with the Irish, but they’re fucking crazy as well. It’s a basic pick your poison. As of now, we’ve been staying with the Russians.
“I need to get up there.” My eyes scan the monitors as I watch Blade and David greet them. Ryder stays back to watch.
“That Russian motherfucker knew we’d be coming in tonight. Look at him going straight to Blade. You need to find out who tipped him off,” I snarl.
“If someone talked, I’ll know by the end of the night.” Snipe says all this as he works on his phone.
Andre’s large body is next to mine as he watches the screens. We call him Andre as in Andre the Giant since he’s six seven and 350 pounds of solid muscle.
“Fucking Russians.”
I turn to look at him, and if I wasn’t hungover, I’d laugh at his dry but calculating manner.
“Fucking Russians. Someone talked. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Yeah, neither do I.”
He cracks his neck, then sits at Derrick’s desk. “I’ll start watching the last three hours of footage today and go from there.”
Snipe glances up. His brown eyes narrow as he speaks into his earpiece, his expensive black suit and white shirt a stark contrast to his naturally olive skin. He and Andre have been in charge of all my security. I trust them, and I trust very few people.
Snipe served with Blade in the SEALs. He was with us in Afghanistan. War has a habit of creating a bond.
I reach into my pocket for my smokes. “Pull up all the footage from eleven a.m. on, Andre.” I light up.
“And listen to all phone conversations. Blade didn’t decide we were all coming into the Pussycat before eleven this morning.”
Andre types on the main computer. “I don’t know why people always want to underestimate us,” he says, deadpan. “But, we need their stupidity to keep us on our toes.”
That’s why I pay these guys to run all my security. I spin my lighter as I watch Blade motion for Vlad and Dimitri to sit at their booth. Another table is being set up to the side for Ox and Fosters.
“Come get me if you find anything.” I take one last deep inhale and put the cigarette out. “Also, find Crystal and tell her to send up more girls and lots of vodka. I want them sloppy.”
Snipe nods and talks into his earpiece again. “You need me to come with you?”
“No, just get Crystal to do her job.” I hesitate, wondering why I feel so unsettled. “And keep an eye out. No surprises.”
They both look up from what they were doing. “You okay, man?”
“I’m fucking tired and pissed,” I say, not waiting for a response as I thread my way through the throngs of people to the velvet red rope leading to the VIP area.
Darrell stands at the bottom with his phone out, checking names. No one who hasn’t made a reservation gets up these stairs unless Darrell decides you can. He gets a percentage of whatever the VIP area makes every night. All the girls, bartenders, and house give him 10 percent.
He nods at me. “Boss.”
“You know about everything, right?” I step in and he latches the rope again.
“I’ve got extra guys on tonight.” I nod at him.
“That’s what I like to hear,” I say over my shoulder. Taking the stairs two at a time, I’m greeted by the massive amount of smoke coming out of our fog machines.
Beautiful women and men of all ages are talking, dancing. It’s been awhile since I’ve been at the Pussycat at night. Derrick has a reason to be proud—he’s made it exclusive and hip.
“Send over a bottle of Stoli and some bread and shit,” I bark at Tiffany, one of our best bartenders. At close to six feet, she’s our gorgeous Amazon.
Derrick has been trying to get into her pants for years. She flashes me a full smile. Her large gold hoop earrings make her look like Jasmine from Aladdin.
“Ahhh… Axel, I nearly creamed my panties when I heard you were taking over for Derrick.” She tosses her raven straight hair over a shoulder and throws me a saucy stare.
“Don’t play with my fragile heart, darlin’.” I wink at her and make my way over to Blade’s table.
“Vladimir, Dimitri, what are the odds?” I slide into the booth.
Vlad looks over at me and smiles, his hands outstretched.
“I was telling my very good friend Blade here the same thing.”
Blade leans back, ignoring Vlad completely as he watches the talent on the stage.
“If I didn’t know him better”—Vlad smiles, revealing his two gold front teeth—“I’d say none of you cowboys are happy to see us.”
Francesca shows up with a basket of bread and two bottles of Stoli. I smile at her. I don’t have time for any of the Russians’ crap. I’m ready to put my knife through his fucking hand if it wouldn’t make a mess we’d have to clean up.
Blade grins as he reaches for the bottle and pours all of us a shot, save for David who’s drinking cranberry juice.
“To us and our futures.” Vlad raises his shot glass.
“To us,” Blade says, his eyes not making contact as he looks at me and David.
Crystal slithers over and stands with her hands on her hips. “You boys ready for a treat?” Her flowery perfume makes me cough as she leans over, trying her hardest to catch Blade’s eye.
I need to stop drinking because I’m starting to feel sorry for her. She’s a scheming cunt 90 percent of the time, but the other 10 percent, she’s pitiful.
All she’s ever wanted was a man to love her. She kind of had it with Chuckie but he was killed so young, who knows how that would have played out.
“Crystal, my beauty.” Vlad tries to stand, but he’s in a booth, so he slumps back laughing.
She leans over me to kiss him.
And I’m done.
“I’m gonna go make sure everything is—”
“Leave me and you lose a testicle.” Blade’s green eyes find mine and I throw back my head and laugh. This day has been fucked from the beginning, but at least I have the excuse of needing to run the club.
Crystal straightens. “Vlad, Dimitri. Have you met Frenchie? She’s one of our new girls.”
She motions for a girl that I vaguely remember at the tryouts. Frenchie sashays over, her eyes trying to hold mine, but unless you’ve got platinum-blond hair and a beauty mark, I’m not interested.
“How we doing?” She smiles. “Having fun?” Her eyes dart back to mine, a clear invitation in them. As she pushes out her chest and flips her long dark hair, all of us stare at her large tits. My dick does nothing, and in a panic, I grab the bottle of vodka.
Thankfully Francesca rescues me with more bread and another bottle of Jack Daniels and Stoli for the table. Francesca is a grad student working on her doctorate. She’s a single mom supporting her son all alone.
“How much for you to sit on my face, Frenchie?” Dimitri laughs at his crudeness.
“Christ,” I growl and stand, reaching for Crystal’s arm. “Excuse us. I need a word with Crystal.” I maneuver us over to the stairs. “I’m not in the mood to
night. Did you let anyone know Blade was coming in?”
She looks like I slapped her, so I guess that’s a no.
“How fucking dare you. And you’re never in the mood,” she hisses.
I hold up a hand to stop her and her rant.
“Look, you can’t pimp out girls. This is not a fucking whorehouse.” When I glance over at the table, Frenchie is now trying to catch Blade’s eye.
She jerks her arm free. “You suck, and I’m not pimping. I’m trying to help them earn. She’s new, Axel.” Her perfume is giving me a headache. “That’s my job. Remember what a job is?”
“Go away.”
“With pleasure.” She turns and starts to walk down the stairs, passing David as she goes.
“Everyone, give it up for Destiny,” DJ Mac’s voice purrs to the crowd. He makes the laser lights go wild for Destiny who’s finishing up.
“Everything okay?” David looks from the stage to me.
“You know all of this is bullshit, right?” I say.
“Of course. You think they’re targeting you and Blade or all the Disciples?” David looks around, giving a heads-up to Destiny. She smiles and walks offstage to make her rounds.
“Who’s ready for the Pussycat’s newest pussy?” DJ Mac spins a record then. “We have a special treat… turn your eyes to our main stage, my friends. She’s one of myyyy favorites. Give it up forrrrr… Candy.”
“I Love Candy” by Bow Wow Wow blasts out of the sound system and fades out as the stage goes black.
“I said no. She wouldn’t dare,” I growl, my eyes fixated on the stage as I wait.
“Axel?” David’s voice is filled with concern, but I raise a hand, stopping him.
The music starts again but instead of Bow Wow Wow, it’s a ballad from the Stuffed Muffins.
“Fuck. Easy, brother,” David says. If it was any other time, I might take offense at his tone. Instead I don’t respond as I wait, hoping it is her because if she has enough balls to do this then…
A spotlight finds the dancer as she stands with her back to us in a fucking red tutu, long red hair, and black high heels that buckle around her ankles.
“Fucking perfect,” I murmur. It’s her. No one but Cookie has legs like that.
“Crystal lied to me saying she didn’t hire her. Did she honestly think I would not come in?” I say to David, but my eyes are not leaving Antoinette as I watch her grind to the band that my best friend created when I left.
The guitar picks up and she spins toward us on the tips of her five-inch high heels. Her arms are outstretched as she captures all eyes.
Gone is my ethereal princess. What spins and grinds on the stage is a redheaded siren with red lips and a body that makes my cock throb.
My head is buzzing. I’m shocked Crystal would do this and that this sorceress would go through with it.
“That one. Blade,” Vladimir screams. “I’ll give you whatever you want, for thirty minutes with the redhead. Name your price.”
And I see red. Maybe it’s that I despise Vladimir or that I’ve been partying for two days. But in a fucked-up second, I react before I think.
“She’s not for sale,” I say gruffly, starting toward her.
The lights and music change. Her leg kicks out and she reaches for the pole, but instead of twirling, in one swift jerk the tutu is off. She stands with her back arched, tits out, with only a scrap of silver string for the top and silver panties.
Vaulting myself onto the stage was not planned. I’m not even thinking as I advance toward her.
She sees me and stops twirling. She holds out her hands as I grab her bicep and pull her with me.
“Wait. I’m so sorry.”
I look straight ahead as I continue to walk. Ryder and David are both by my side.
“Mitchell, please there’s been a mistake,” she yells. David’s eyes land on mine, a huge frown on his face.
“I swear, Mitchell, Crystal said yes.” I keep moving us through the crowded club.
“This is insane. Stop it, you’re hurting me,” she screams and I tighten my grip as she tries to jerk her arm away. The rage that has been brewing, percolating, finally erupts.
And I jerk her to my chest. Her eyes are huge, but it’s shock rather than fear. She blinks at me and that fucking beauty mark stops me cold.
Her red lips part as if she wants to scream, speak, something besides stay in my arms. I don’t care what she wants though. I don’t care that I dragged her off the stage.
In one moment, I’ve made my decision.
“Quiet.”
ANTOINETTE
“Quiet,” he says lowly, his full lips inches from my ear as I gasp for breath, my mind reeling after all the damage he’s done in a matter of minutes.
Quiet? I should kick him in the balls, but I’m too stunned at what went down.
“Axel, take this into the office,” the tall, muscled one says, and in seconds, it hits me.
Axel?
Axel!
How could I have been so stupid? I don’t have time to do anything but follow since he’s dragging me into the freakin’ office.
We pass the blond guy with striking eyes. He looks like a younger version of Thor and I almost reach out to him.
“Out!” It ricochets around the room, or maybe it’s vibrating in my ears. He won’t let go of my arm.
“Wait, this is all a huge mistake.” I’m trying to sound calm, but my voice is hoarse. I mean, how did I not put it together?
Holy God. Axel is the crazy guy who murders people? The one all the women go nuts for… the one who has the giant…
“Oh. My. God,” I scream and this time I do fight. I twist and kick at him, discovering
stripper heels might be useful after I make contact with his shin. I think it’s his shin. Whatever. I’m beyond caring as he lets me go.
“Fuck. What the hell is wrong with you?” He grunts as we both look down at his jeans. They have a large rip and blood is seeping though.
“I’m so sorry.”
I go forward only to hear him say, “Just fucking relax.” He throws himself into a chair and leans his head back. My eyes dart around the room as I only now remember that we’re not alone.
“Nice one, Axel.” Thor saunters in, a huge smile on his face, prompting Axel to grunt out a fuck you, David.
“So. I’m guessing you must be Cookie?” He turns to me; his eyes are such an unusual color. I nod.
“No, wait. Candy. I’m Candy, not Cookie.” His lips twitch.
When I glance over at Axel, he’s staring at me like I’m some kind of strange being.
“Sorry, I’m frazzled. This is crazy. Like that was crazy—” I point at the door letting my voice drift off since no one in the room seems fazed at all.
“Can someone get her some fucking clothes?” Axel snaps. “I would, but I’m bleeding.”
Turning, I look at him, my hand covering my mouth. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. It’s only that you seem to make me do things I would never do.”
I move toward him again.
“No, stop.” He rubs the back of his neck and stares at me like he’s not quite sure what to do with me.
“I feel horrible. Oh God, you’re really bleeding. Should I take you to a hospital? Shit, I don’t have a car. Do any of you have a car?” I jump up and down, shaking my hands. Why is no one helping me? And why is Thor smiling? No, he’s laughing, along with the dark-haired guy who’s also wearing a Disciples vest.
“Stop jumping, Antoinette,” Axel says gruffly. His eyes darken as they travel up and down my body. And suddenly I can’t breathe very well again.
“Okay.” Thor nods at me and turns to the tall, buff guy. “It looks like Axel’s in good hands, Ryder. Let’s go find Blade.” He walks past us and waits at the door for, I guess, Ryder.
“Get me some ice, assholes,” Axel shouts after them as the door slams.
Stunned, I stare at the office door, willing someone to knock and save me. Bu
t since that’s not happening, I slowly turn to face him. The room is silent save for the monitors, which have the volume on low.
“Can I get you some ice?” I clear my voice because it’s gone all raspy again.
His eyes narrow on me, forcing me to acknowledge that my fantasy of this man was simply that: a fantasy.
Mitchell doesn’t exist. Thinking the owner was a super hot, slightly dangerous rock star who rode a Harley and wore a vest saying Disciples MC was pathetic. I bite my bottom lip waiting for Axel to speak since apparently he kills people, or at least that’s the rumor floating around.
The silence is unbearable. “You know what? I think I will get you that ice,” I say. “It’s the least I can do…” He raises a dark brow, silencing me. I can’t move. It’s like his eyes have some strange power over me. Realistically, I should run, and yet all I want is to move closer to him. Talk to him. Gaze at his full lips, which kind of smile and slightly snarl.
I want him to look at me the way he did before. It makes me feel alive and secure in a way only dancing can compare. Yet maybe that isn’t even real.
“How old are you?” He launches himself out of the chair and walks to the corner where he grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“I’m legal if that’s what you’re worried about.” It comes out snippy, making him stop reaching into a cabinet to look at me.
Wow. This guy is seriously cut, and I’ve spent my entire life around dancers. His shirt has ridden up so I can see his muscled abs… Oh God, he has a V. He must work out all day long, or maybe he has superior genes…
He cocks his head. And I have to force my eyes to meet his.
“Why do you always answer a question with a question?” He examines my face, which is now on fire, then looks away and opens a black cabinet, taking out two glasses.
“Mitch… Axel, are you okay?”
“Define okay,” he fires right back.
God, he’s a dick. It bugs me, all these feelings I’m having for this man. He’s so freaking beautiful that he lulls you into this false sense of security, making you think he might be good and have a heart. Instead, he acts like a sarcastic shit.
Ignite (The Disciples Book 4) Page 7