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One girl’s got rhinestones on her panties. They form an arrow that points to her sweet spot. Stole her from another club. She knows how to entice men into opening their wallets. That’s for sure. Almost lost a grand while trying to recruit her. The girl gives one hell of a lap dance. My dick still hasn’t recovered.

“Feels like home,” Diablo murmurs, his voice nearly lost in the cacophony.

“Is that our spot?” Vapor asks, pointing at the VIP booth near the main stage.

“Yep. Lead the way.”

We slide into the plush embrace of velvet, the prime location for tonight’s spectacle. My gaze sweeps over Voodoo Velvet. Neon lights reflect off the polished bar and shimmer across the girls’ faces. They’re flushed with anticipation. No point in keeping them, or us, waiting a second longer.

I pull my phone out of my cut and quickly tap out a message to the bouncers. “Showtime, boys.”

The doors swing wide and patrons flood in like the Mississippi breaching its banks.

“Look at this turnout,” Fang says, leaning back against the cushioned seat, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“Might need to make some people wait outside,” Diablo says.

“That would make the club look even more packed,” Tank says.

“I’m not worried about that. I’m more concerned with having the fire marshal show up and try to shut us down,” I say.

“What’s the capacity?” Vapor asks.

“Two hundred and fifty. I got the boys outside keeping a count. There’s no way I’m letting a stupid technicality shut us down. Relax, boys, I’ve thought of everything.” I stretch my arms behind my head and rest my neck against my hands.

One of the hot bartenders in a skimpy mini-skirt and crop top appears with our drinks. I made sure that every bartender memorized our favorite drinks, and I gave them the heads up that the guys would be joining me today.

After she passes them to each of the guys, I wait for Vapor. I know he’ll want to make a toast.

“To the men we lost in the bombing,” he begins, referencing the bomb that destroyed our clubhouse a few months ago. “Your lives will be avenged.”

“Damn right,” Fang says, clanking his glass against mine.

“We’ll make sure the cartel pays,” Bones shouts over the music.

“They will.” Diablo raises his glass and takes a long swig of the amber liquid.

“There she is!” Tank sits up straighter, riveted by the dancer onstage. I don’t even have to follow his gaze to know it’s Vicki. The girl’s got his balls in her purse. Good for her.

As we settle in for a night of fun and profit, my eyes track the flow of cash as it exchanges hands, fluttering bills that fan the flames of our opening night. My brothers grin and pound drinks while ogling the girls. Well, everyone but Vapor. He’s hunched over his phone, tapping away like he’s having the most fascinating text conversation in the world.

“You texting the wife?” I ask.

“Yeah. She’s not thrilled I’m hanging out in a strip club tonight, but she knows it’s strictly business.”

“Blue would saw your dick off if you so much as glanced at another woman.” I chuckle.

“And she’d have every right to.” He glances up for a second before returning his attention to the phone.

“Never seen anything like this,” Bones yells over the music, his voice tinged with awe. “Ice, you sure know how to throw a party.”

I flash a grin at him, feeling the pulse of the club sync with my own heartbeat. “It’s not just a party, brother,” I reply, my words barely audible above the din. “It’s going to finance a war against the cartel.”

“Shit, I’ll drink to that!” He tosses back the rest of his whiskey before motioning to the waitress for another one.

The air is thick with the scent of success—a cocktail of spiced rum, perspiration, cotton candy, and raw ambition.

Vapor leans in close, his face split by a wide smile. “If the first hour’s this hot, can’t imagine what the rest of the night will bring.”