Page 21 of Pink Poison (The Butchers MC #1)

Chapter fourteen

Stevie

“Wake your ass up, Stevie,” my best friend whispers in my ear.

Who the hell let Teegan in my hotel room?

Feeling around the queen-sized bed, my fingers grasp on a spare pillow. “Don’t even think about it, sugar,” she reprimands, yanking the fluffy, feather down comforter from my body.

“Tee!”

“You sleep naked?” She cackles. “And here I thought I knew you.”

Groaning, I pry my eyes open to see my best friend dressed in a cut-off t-shirt and light-wash Daisy Dukes. “Teegan Lorraine, what are you doing?”

She waves her hand between us, unbothered by my lack of sleepwear. “ We are going out for breakfast, then you’re going to explain to me why the hell everyone at Mo’s was freaking out last night sayin’ sweet little Barbie is off the market .”

My sluggish morning brain struggles to pick up the topic for a moment—only one, until everything comes back and crashes over me. Goddamnit, Kash. How I managed to forget, even for a second, what happened last night, is beyond me.

I'm marked.

I'm claimed.

I am technically Property of Kashton Reid.

Fuck—and I cannot stress this enough—my life.

Maybe my lack of memory was meant to be a coping mechanism since I really don't have the time or patience to deal with it, even if it's my best friend asking questions.

“Tee, what the hell are you talking about?”

I feel bad for pretending not to know—I really do, but I'd rather bury my head in the sand than think about the repercussions of what this means, for as long as I can.

“That’s what I want to know!” she yells, dropping the comforter.

I watch warily as she digs through my bags, tossing clothes around the floor until she finds a Teegan-approved outfit for me. “It’s too early for this,” I grumble.

“Chop, chop. Get dressed and meet me outside.” I wait until I hear the door snick shut before rolling out of bed to get dressed. Red haired, nosy, cherry smelling, irritating, overbearing, bi— “Quit cussing me out in your head, bitch!” she shouts from behind my door.

Smiling, I grab the soft pink, ruffle dress and stretch it over my head before grabbing a pair of casual heels. After walking around in platforms all night, there's not enough money in the world that could convince me to wear them out for breakfast .

Content with my outfit for the day, I rush a basic version of my morning routine, hoping like hell that Teegan isn’t causing a fuss for the staff.

I snort at the thought.

Fat chance.

“Spill,” she demands, dabbing her red-painted lips with a napkin.

Dear God, it's still too early for this.

My eyes have barely focused enough to even see my breakfast, let alone listen to my best friend's continued rant about me suddenly becoming unavailable. If I didn’t know any better, I'd say she knows I'm withholding the truth and she's needling me until I break.

Honestly, if she keeps it up, I just might.

Shaking my head, I repeat the same sentence I've said over the last hour: “I don't even know what I’m supposed to be spilling, Tee."

She eyes me with the look, the you are a terrible liar and I'm going to call you out , look. “Really, Stevie? You're going to keep sitting there, trying to play dumb? Sweetie, you aren't a natural blonde—don't play with me.”

I choke on my spit. “Teegan!”

She shrugs, not missing a beat. "Are you gonna call me a liar or are you gonna talk?"

"What do you know so far?" I ask.

“There’s a picture of you on stage wearing nothing but a Butcher’s vest floating around,” she says dryly .

Fuck.

I shouldn't be surprised when I knew what it meant to go out like that. Granted, Kash may not have given me much choice, but I was the one who gave in. I had options. I should have walked away or chosen to wear Creed's outrageous costume instead of letting a man— a Butcher —tell me what to do.

“Well, that came to bite me in the ass a lot faster than I hoped.” I sigh.

Teegan groans, dropping her faux pissy attitude. “Start talking. I need to know everything.”

Rolling my eyes, I blow out a dramatic breath. “My boss convinced me to do a little extra work for him. Apparently, his club is mending fences around the city through escorting . So I go with this guy to a bar, Memento, for a business meeting.”

“Ah, hell,” she drawls.

“Imagine my surprise when I found out this guy was meeting with the Butchers,” I snark.

“I was happy pretending to fawn over my date until Jameson and Max had to open their mouths.

" My cheeks heat at the reminder of what Max did, of what I let him do.

Teegan's eyes widen and I can tell she has the question on the tip of her tongue. I shake my head, unwilling to get into the details. "Let’s just say a lot happened after that, and no, I’m not ready to dive into that part.

“Stingy, ” she teases.

“Teegan,” I snap. “Let me finish this before I lose my gall. One of the newer members, Kash —he is bat-shit crazy, by the way—got me back to Le Papillon. My date left me a gift in my locker after he was warned off by Jameson. So, Kash had me wear his cut on stage.”

Her mouth opens comically wide at my confession. I’d honestly find her reaction funny if I weren’t in such deep shit with the new information of my supposed affiliation floating around. “I…What…How?” she stutters.

“Jesus,” I snort. “Take a breath, Tee.”

“Okay, back it up.” She waves her hand as if she’s swatting my concern away. “ Escorting ? That’s been your hard limit since we met. How in the hell did you get wrangled into that? ”

Glancing around the restaurant, I make sure everyone within earshot is minding their plate. The last thing I need is for Atticus Lennon to find out that I’m talking about him. “Do you know who owns Le Papillon?”

“Of course,” she whispers, sliding her chair closer to mine. “Everyone in Nawlins knows his name.”

“He can be quite… convincing .” There's no mistaking my tone, that convincing definitely means coercive.

Slowly, she nods. “Okay, now how do the Butchers play into this?”

I offer her a weak smile while I pat her hand. “Honestly, your guess is as good as mine. I was a little distracted…”

She cackles, stealing the attention of nearby tables. "I bet you were, you hussy! How many of them have you managed to get under…or over…now?"

"Most of them," I grumble.

“ Most of them? ” she howls.

“You know my history with Jameson, and Kash definitely knew what he was doing with this whole vest ordeal.” I laugh nervously. “It doesn’t help that he did it after he heard what I was doing with Stone at the bar.”

“Oh. My. Hell.” She fans her face dramatically before flashing me her signature white teeth. “I bet Mack had something to say about that .”

Every ounce of my previous playfulness evaporates the millisecond his name leaves her lips.

Mack. I hate that I still feel his touch burning my skin with his spiteful words echoing in my head.

I hate it just as much as I hate that after everything he has done, I still laid in bed after Kash dropped me off at the hotel, moaning my stepbrother’s name as I came.

The Butchers may think I'm poisonous, but what I am is nothing compared to Maxwell Jr. There is no antidote for his brand of venom. Even if there was…I'm not sure that I want it .

“—evie,” Teegan’s voice breaks through my thoughts, bringing another round of heat to my cheeks.

“Huh?”

“Did you hear anything I just said, or were you too busy thinking about fucking your—”

I slap my palm over her mouth, silencing whatever sass she was about to spew. “That’s enough outta you.”

A steady vibration from my phone clinks the cutlery on top of the table. Raising my brows, I give Tee my best, you better behave face while I answer and put the call on speaker. “Hello?” I ask, having forgotten to check the caller ID.

“Angel,” Creed purrs, raising the hairs on my arms. “You didn’t wear the gift that I sent for you last night.”

Teegan’s eyes widen as she hears his deep, sultry voice.

Honestly, I can’t blame her. For as odd as my arrangement with him was, courtesy of Atticus, he wasn't awful company.

That, and he's not bad to look at. The worst thing about him is the ridiculous gifts, like he's some sort of sugar Daddy.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, if he is.

I've met plenty of sugar babies who also work at clubs.

It's a great arrangement for those who want it.

I just so happen to not want it.

Her lips move slowly, mouthing for me to talk to him. Exhaling softly, I confess, “No, it seems I didn’t.”

“Such a shame.” He sighs. “It was an expensive gift, one I’d hoped to see you wearing.”

It sounds like he's fishing for an apology or an offer to make it up to him.

Neither of which I intend to give him. My obligation to him ended the second I clocked out from my shift this morning.

Atticus may not have specified that, but he didn't give me any further instructions, either.

And at the end of the day, he is the one I answer to, whether I want to or not.

Not to mention, he made a personal deal with Jameson to leave me alone.

If word gets out that he's still pursuing, I can only imagine the fallout that will bring.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be talking,” I say.

He chuckles, as if he doesn't have a care in the world. “Did you think I’d let those bikers ward me off from a slice of heaven such as yourself?”

I flit my gaze back to Teegan, hoping she can guide me through whatever the hell this is.

It’s clear that he’s upset about me snubbing him and the club's interference.

My only defense is that I thought he got the message when Jameson took me off the table.

Fuck. It's not a very good one when he's a prominent client for my boss.

If I piss him off, I guarantee I'll be reaping the consequences.

Teegan shrugs while offering me an apologetic smile. Some best friend I have.