Demi
When I finally reach The Underground, I’m surprised to see the biker standing by the freight elevator. As I approach, I hear the man he’s talking to call him Klutch.
So that’s his name.
“Demi.” His eyes stalk me as I approach the entrance.
I lift my chin, refusing to be intimidated. “Klutch.”
His lips twitch again, that almost-smile threatening to break through his stoic expression.
Klutch says something else to what I now realize is the prospect from yesterday before stepping up beside me as I wait for the elevator and placing his hand at the small of my back.
The touch sends a jolt of electricity up my spine and I bite back the moan that’s threatening to spill from my lips.
It’s then I notice the group of men who’d been openly staring at me quickly avert their eyes when they notice Klutch’s hand on me.
Did he just... oh no he didn’t just try and mark me like I’m some kind of territory he owns.
I’m about to tell him off for pulling some caveman BS when a thought stops me in my tracks. Maybe having his protection in a place like this might not be such a bad thing, especially given the short dress I stupidly wore tonight. I mentally weigh the options and decide to let it slide. For now.
The elevator door is yanked open, and we step inside with a crowd of other people. The space is cramped, forcing me closer to Klutch and his scent wraps around me. I breathe it in and hum.
Damn he smells good. Like Giovani Armani and a hint of Irish Spring. It’s clean, rich, intoxicating. And I find myself leaning deeper into him before I can stop myself.
When the doors open again, I’m momentarily stunned by the transformation of The Underground Arena.
What was a relatively empty space yesterday is now packed with people.
Music pounds through massive speakers, the bass so heavy I can feel it in my chest. The cage in the center is now lit with bright spotlights, and nearly every seat around it is filled.
Klutch gives my hip a squeeze. I glance up at him and he nods for me to step out.
Oh. Right. Stepping out of the elevator, I feel his hand go back to the small of my back and he guides me through the crowd toward the bar.
I spot McKenna perched on a barstool next to the mountain of a man I now know as Pee Wee.
She’s laughing at something he’s said, looking completely in her element.
“Kenny!” I call out, relieved to see a familiar face and if I’m being honest, desperate to put distance between me and Klutch.
She turns, her face lighting up when she spots me. I rush over and we hug tightly.
“Damn, girl!” she exclaims, pulling back to look at me. “You look hot as hell in that dress!”
A low growl emanates from behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Klutch. McKenna’s eyes flick over my shoulder, her grin widening.
“And I see you’ve already made a friend,” she adds with a wink.
Before I can respond, Pee Wee clears his throat. “Klutch, your fight’s in an hour. Better start warming up.”
Wait, what? I glance over my shoulder at him and frown. He’s a fighter?
Pee Wee turns his attention to me. “And you must be Demi. I’m Pee Wee, VP of the Bastard Saints MC.”
“Nice to officially meet you,” I reply, offering him my hand.
His eyes drop to my palm then lift looking over my shoulder like he’s asking for… permission? Bikers are so dang weird. Finally he takes my hand in his massive mitt and gives it a surprisingly gentle pump.
“You too, darlin’. And I see you’ve already met Klutch, our Sergeant-at-Arms.”
So that’s what SAA stands for.
“Yes,” I answer simply, although ‘met’ isn’t exactly accurate.
“This is Hawk,” Pee Wee continues, gesturing to the bartender.
“He’ll show you the ropes. It’s cash only, drinks are fifteen bucks.
If anyone gives you trouble, find someone wearing a Bastard Saints cut.
” He turns, pointing to the back of his vest where a logo of a skull wearing a crown is prominently displayed.
I nod, taking it all in. Klutch hasn’t moved from his spot behind me, and I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. It’s unsettling, but not entirely unpleasant.
“I should get to work,” I say, looking at McKenna.
She gives me a thumbs up. “Kill it, girl.”
I turn around, finally facing Klutch. His expression is dark, clearly unhappy about me being here. Well, he can get over it. I need the money far more than I need his approval.
“Excuse me,” I say politely, waiting for him to move.
He stares at me for a beat longer before finally stepping aside. “Stay out of trouble,” he mutters before turning and striding away toward what I assume are the locker rooms.
Hawk, the bartender, gives me a quick rundown of the drink menu and shows me how to work the POS system. It’s all pretty straightforward—take orders, bring drinks, collect cash, don’t mess with the bikers.
The next two hours fly by in a blur of serving drinks and navigating through the increasingly rowdy crowd.
Despite the leers and occasional wandering hand (quickly withdrawn when I give them my death glare), most of the people here tonight are surprisingly respectful.
I even manage to collect a decent amount in tips, stuffing the bills into my crossbody bag that’s stowed behind the bar whenever I get a chance.
I’m delivering a tray of drinks to a booth full of men in suits when the music suddenly cuts out. The crowd’s chatter dies down as a man with a microphone steps into the center of the cage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces, his voice booming through the speakers, “it’s time for tonight’s main event!”
The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles as I hurry to hand out the last of the drinks on my tray.
“In the red corner, standing at six-foot-three and weighing in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds—The Dominatorrrr!”
A massive man enters the cage to a mix of cheers and boos.
He’s easily the most intimidating human being I’ve ever seen, with muscles bulging from places I didn’t know muscles could bulge from.
His entire body is covered in tattoos, and his head is completely shaved.
He paces the cage like a wild animal, eyes cold and calculating.
“And in the blue corner, your reigning champion, standing at six-foot-two and weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds—The Killerrrrr… Klutch!”
My head whips around so fast I nearly drop my tray.
Klutch strides toward the cage with the confidence of a man who fears nothing.
He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black fight shorts, revealing a body that’s all bulging muscles covered in intricate tattoos.
A large piece covers his entire chest and I suddenly want to trace every inch with my tongue.
Shaking off the thought, I hug the empty tray to my chest, suddenly unable to tear my eyes away.
Klutch hops onto the step and glides into the cage, his eyes never leaving his opponent.
The hair on my arms stand on end. There’s something different about him now—something lethal and frightening I hadn’t noticed before.
The referee calls both fighters to the center, gives them instructions I can’t hear, and then steps back. The bell rings.
What happens next is something I’ll never forget.
Dominator charges forward like a bull, clearly intending to use his size advantage to overwhelm Klutch. But Klutch is ready. He sidesteps with surprising speed, landing hard punches that snaps the bigger man’s bald head back. The crowd roars its approval.
I watch, entranced, as Klutch systematically obliterates his opponent. Every move is calculated and brutal. He doesn’t waste energy on flashy moves or unnecessary aggression. It’s like he’s watching and waiting, picking his shots with precision, targeting the same spots over and over.
“Get him!” I shout, unable to stop myself. I feel my cheeks warm when his eyes find me in the crowd before landing back on his opponent.
Real smooth, Demi.
The bell rings, ending the first round. Klutch prowls over to his corner where Beast, the enforcer I’d met briefly earlier, gives him water and wipes his face. I glance over to the other corner where Dominator is gulping air.
“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” McKenna appears beside me, her eyes also fixed on the cage.
“Yeah,” I breathe, unable to come up with something nonchalant to say. “I didn’t know he was a fighter.”
“Pee Wee says he’s one of the best. Undefeated in thirty-seven fights.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “How is that even possible? That other guy is huge.”
“Size isn’t everything,” she says with a smirk. “It’s how you use it.”
I elbow her in the ribs, but my retort is cut short by the bell signaling the start of round two.
This time, Dominator is more cautious, circling Klutch instead of charging in.
They exchange hits, neither landing cleanly, until Klutch suddenly lunges forward.
He drives his shoulder into Dominator’s middle, lifting the bigger man off his feet before slamming him to the canvas with a thunderous BAM that echoes through the arena.
“Holy shit,” I whisper as the crowd goes wild.
Klutch quickly takes the dominant position, raining down punches on his stunned opponent. Dominator tries to buck him off, but Klutch is like a man on a mission as he continues his assault.
And then just as suddenly as it all started, it’s over. Dominator stops moving, his arms falling limp at his sides. The referee jumps in, pulling Klutch off and waving his arms to signal the end of the fight.
Klutch stands, chest heaving, blood splattered across his torso. His eyes scan the crowd until they find mine, locking on with an intensity that makes my knees feel weak. Something possessive flashes in his gaze. A rush of wet floods between my thighs.
Holy shit.
“I need a beer.”
I spin around and smile at the man waving around a twenty dollar bill. “Coming right up.”
I make my way back to the bar and spot McKenna, apparently in the middle of an argument with Pee Wee.
“I’m not a child,” she’s saying, hands on her hips.
“Never said you were, baby,” Pee Wee replies, his voice calm but firm. “But it’s late, and the crowd gets rowdier after the main event. Time for you to head home.”
“But—“
“No buts. I’ve called you a car. It’s waiting outside.”
McKenna huffs but doesn’t argue further which surprises the hell out of me. She’s not one to back down from a fight. Especially with someone from the opposite sex.
She turns to me, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Apparently, I have a curfew now. Text me when you get home?”
“I will,” I promise, giving her a quick hug. “Be safe.”
“You too,” she whispers, squeezing me tight before releasing me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I laugh. “That leaves the field wide open.”
She grins, blowing me a kiss before allowing Pee Wee to escort her to the elevator.
The next two hours pass in a blur of drink orders and increasing chaos. Two more fights take place, though neither generates the same electricity as Klutch’s bout. By the time last call is announced, I’m exhausted but jazzed at the same time.
As the crowd begins to thin, I help Hawk clean up behind the bar, while the other waitresses wipe down tables and chairs. When most of the patrons have left, I finally have a chance to count my tips.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, thumbing through the stack of bills. I’ve made almost five hundred dollars tonight.
“Good haul?”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the deep voice directly behind me. Klutch is standing there, freshly showered and changed back into his jeans and t-shirt, his leather vest back in place. I scan his face and frown at the Steri-Strip over his eyebrow.
“Yeah,” I nod, quickly tucking the money back into my bag. “Not bad.”
He leans against the bar, his eyes raking over me. “How are you getting home?”
“I’m walking,” I shrug.
His eyes jump to mine. “At this time of night? In that dress?” He shakes his head. “That’s not fucking happening.”
I put my hands on my hips, ready to tell him exactly where he can stick his bossy attitude, when he crowds my space. He plants his tattooed hands on the bar on either side of me, caging me in.
“What are you—” My mouth snaps closed when he leans in, his face inches from mine.
“It’s not up for discussion, Demi,” he growls.
“You don’t?—”
“You want to keep this job?”
I narrow my eyes, annoyed that he’s using this job against me. “Fine,” I snap.
I want to scream that he’s a freaking asshole but my dad’s face flashes through my mind. He needs me.
“How am I getting home, then?” I ask, barely holding onto my temper.
A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “I’m taking you.”