Page 20 of Duchess (Royal Harlots MC: National New York Chapter #1)

Duchess

I sat in the main lounge of the Rouge Roulette, wrapped in a blanket, barely listening as a young detective with too much gel in his hair and not enough experience in his eyes scribbled notes and tried to get me to repeat my story for the third time.

"You said you go by Duchess, is that right?"

I nodded. "Yes, that's correct." I didn't want to give them my name, not if I didn't need to.

"You said the victim worked for you?" he asked.

I nodded, voice flat. "She was a dancer for the club.

"You have reason to believe this was a targeted killing?"

My eyes flicked to Rhea, who stood stiff against the wall like she was holding up the damn building with her spine. "You saw her mouth was sewn shut. That wasn’t random."

He scribbled something else, glanced over at his partner who was bagging evidence near the alley.

"Do you know who would want to hurt her like this?"

My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I forced myself to meet his gaze.

"Like I told you the first two times, we found her out back near the dumpster.

She left with a client three days ago and when we didn't hear from her the next day, some of the girls went looking for her.

They never found her, until tonight. That's all I can give you. "

Being a Harlot meant knowing how to dealwith pressure, and part of that was knowing exactly what to say when the cops came sniffing around.

We were taught from the beginning, never give more than you have to, never lie unless you're damn sure you can back it up, and never, ever throw a sister under the bus. We played our roles well because our lives depended on it. I gave him just enough truth to keep him from digging deeper. When you ran a club like ours, you learned how to toe the line. Enough truth to keep the heat off. Enough bite to make sure they didn’t push.

By the time they rolled the body out, I couldn’t feel anything anymore.

I waited until the last cruiser pulled away and the red and blue faded into the night before I made my way upstairs. Rhea and the girls needed space. I needed answers.

But first, I needed to make a call I’d been avoiding for the last twenty-four hours.

The club was empty. Rhea had shut it down for the night. She felt it disrespectful to have the girls work with what had just happened. I entered the office. the door clicking quietly behind me. I sank into the leather chair behind the desk and pulled out my burner phone.

My thumb hovered over the number for longer than I’d ever admit.

I hit dial.

The call barely rang once.

"Did you make a decision?" Jameson’s voice was calm. He'd apparently been waiting for the phone call.

"I think so," I said, forcing the words through lips that didn’t want to move.

"But I do need to make some changes to what we had discussed before."

"Go on." He stated.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. This was the part that hurt. "We don’t just need affiliation."

The silence stretched between us.

I swallowed hard. "We need protection."

I waited for him to speak. "What happened?"

"One of my girls was found dead tonight. They threw her in the dumpster out back of the Rouge Roulette."

"Did you tell the cops who did it?"

I shook my head. "No. Played dumb."

"Good. We'll deal with them separately."

"We?"

"That's what a partership is."

"I-I can't give you what you wanted. If you take us in, I swear I’ll pull my weight for the Bastards. Whatever’s needed. But in return...you can't have our girls. The Rouge Roulette is ours. But if you help us stand, we help you expand."

There was a pause, followed by muffled voices in the background. He was talking to someone. Whispering numbers.

"Powertrain’s not gonna like this," he muttered. Then louder: "You’re asking for a high price, Duchess."

I sighed and leaned back, the ceiling above me spinning with exhaustion. "I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this clubhouse. All of it. I just ask that you don’t tear it down just because you can."

"I'm not that cruel, Stephanie."

"I won't leave you hanging. You can have our other assets. We've slowly accumulated businesses. Spas, tattoo parlors, garages. If they work for you, you can have them."

The line crackled, and then he said, "I’ll have your back if you have mine."

The relief hit me like a gut punch. I’d braced for resistance. For judgment. What I got instead was trust.

"Then it’s a deal," I said, my voice firm now. No more room for doubt.

I left the office feeling like I’d just signed off on the most important deal of my life. The President of the National Chapter had our backs. My girls were safe, for now.

But as I threw a leg over my Harley and kicked it to life, the rumble of the engine was steady, grounding, but it couldn’t drown out the thoughts crashing around in my head.

Roulette was going to lose her damn mind.

Half our assets were about to start filtering into RBMC territory, and not everyone was going to like what that meant. All the fronts we’d built were going to be used by another club. Even if it was through word of mouth, for now, that kind of shift made enemies. Fast.

I had no clue how I was going to explain it to the girls, let alone calm the storm when it hit. But I’d figure it out, like I always did.

Because if there was one thing this life had taught me, it was that survival isn’t about brute strength. It’s about knowing when to bite your tongue, when to strike, and when to step into the fire so it won’t burn you.

The weeks ahead were going to test every limit we had. And I’d be damned if I didn’t come out stronger.

I might bend, but I sure as hell wouldn’t break.