Page 27 of Pink Poison (The Butchers MC #1)

Straightening my spine, I look the man in the eyes. His stonelike face cracks with a skin-crawling grin as he lazily strides towards me, like he has all the time in the goddamn world. “Lennon,” I greet sharply.

His lifeless, gray eyes roam over me, inspecting me from head to toe.

If it were anyone else, the act would feel normal, but with him, it somehow feels perverse.

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he was undressing me in his fucked up head. “What brings you to my fine establishment this afternoon? I don’t recall having a meeting scheduled.”

God, I'd love to schedule a meeting between his face and my fist.

“I came to see Stevie.” I shrug in an attempt to appear casual. “I heard she was working today.”

“I see.” I doubt he believes a single word that came out of my mouth, but he doesn't call me out on it. “Why don’t we take this inside? There are a few things I’d like to bring to the MC’s attention.

” Gritting my teeth, I give him a subtle nod before following him towards the doors.

Heavy bass pounds from the club, vibrating against my chest the closer to the doors we get.

The icy hand of dread grips tightly around my stomach again as he opens the door, revealing groups of men and women in various stages of undress, including his employees.

I’d even go as far as to say that it’s more active now than it was yesterday.

“There is an arranged event happening,” he explains.

“I do believe that’s why Miss Waters was summoned today. ”

“So, she is working. ”

“Not quite.” His dark chuckle raises the hair on the back of my neck. “Creed informed me that he has been quite taken by her, and wanted to give her an experience that only he could provide.”

My feet cement to the ground. “What the hell does that mean?”

His words are light, borderline playful as he speaks. “It means that money talks, Mr. Reid.”

“ His money shouldn’t even be talking,” I spit as I force my legs to move forward again. “Hill was warned to stay away from her.”

Like a switch was flipped, his voice becomes monotonous, uncharacteristic of the showman known to gallivant around his kingdom with extraordinary flair. “My, my. That is problematic, isn’t it?”

“You could say that,” I grunt.

Waving my comment away, he leads me through the main floor with a drawl. “Well, since you’re here, you may as well sit with me. Perhaps we can…work something out.”

The heady stench of sweat, sex, and burning cigars threatens to choke me with every breath that I take.

Glancing around, I take in several dozen strategically placed poker tables, spaced perfectly apart with select pieces of erotic furniture.

Jesus Christ. My eyes flit to each piece, immediately entranced by the sight of three men with a platinum haired woman on her knees.

I know that I should want to look away, look at literally anything else, but I can't. I can't stop staring at them.

It's beyond fucked up, and yet I'm drawn to them as the men slowly stroke their ridiculously hard shafts, forcing the woman to sit and watch them.

Atticus' chuckle provokes me to open my mouth, to say something that would absolve me of enjoying what my eyes refuse to move away from.

Any words that I could think of dry on my tongue as we walk closer to the scene.

Around the woman's neck is a thick, black collar attached to a matching leash that one of the men holds in a tense grip.

With a sharp tug, he silently commands for her to crawl to him and the other two men .

Atticus' steps slow as we thread past them, taunting me with the sight of the woman greedily taking her apparent owner's cock in her mouth.

She bobs vigorously before reaching for the other two men.

They eagerly lead her hands to their shafts, controlling her movements.

The man with her lead groans as his head lulls back, the sound going straight to my thickening cock.

What the fuck?

Look away. Look away!

“Have a seat, Mr. Reid,” Atticus commands, granting me a shred of mercy.

I slide into the booth, choosing the side that doesn't face the group we passed.

He moves with practiced ease to the bench across from me, appearing no more or less phased by the egregious amount of sex around him.

I suppose it makes sense when he lives and breathes it every damn minute of his life.

Folding my hands over the table, I will my body to stop reacting.

I wasted enough time as it is, and every minute that I sit here with Lennon is a minute wasted in getting to Stevie.

“I want Hill to leave Stevie alone,” I state.

The corner of his mouth tics, almost like he wants to smirk, but he can't quite make it happen. “So you said. However, I’m not sure that I have the power to make such a thing happen.”

“Find the power,” I grit.

His eerie, gray eyes flash under the neon lights that strobe around the club, making them appear darker than they naturally are.

“I think you misunderstand my relationship with Creed Hill, Kashton. While we have shared interests and an alliance of sorts—he is not a man I am willing to risk pissing off for the sake of your exclusionary benefit.”

So much for not pissing him off.

“I think you misunderstood me, Lennon,” I snarl, letting my monster out to play with his. “I am willing to take that risk, and if you want to keep the MC on your side, you’ll tell him to go back to the fucking hole he crawled out of.”

“Bikers,” he scoffs. “You bunch have never had any sense of tact.”

“Call. Him. Off.”

His cool demeanor splits at my demand, cracking the mask he wears so effortlessly down the middle—revealing the soul-sucking demon that lurks beneath.

“You seem to forget where you are and with whom you are speaking to in such a tone, Kashton. Allow me to make this abundantly clear: Creed Hill is, by far, my best client. He holds a certain weight around here to which he has earned a sense of privilege in my kingdom—a privilege that neither you nor your club has earned.” I open my mouth to lay into the motherfucker when he cuts me off sharply.

“If those pretty lips of yours aren't open for my cock or a truthful reason as to why you are demanding I strip a client's access to my escort, I suggest you close them.”

“He made a gentlemen’s agreement with the MC’s president,” I say.

I watch him piece his mask back together, seemingly intrigued by my admission. “A gentleman's agreement?”

“Our alliance was made on the agreement that Hill left Stevie out of it,” I explain, hoping like hell that I didn’t just paint a bigger target on her back. “He accepted it.”

He chuckles dramatically, changing his personality on a dime… again. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that? If I had known, I would have relinquished her right away as I am nothing but a man of my word, and I do detest those who do not honor their agreements. Gentleman or otherwise."

Only an idiot would believe or trust him, but if pretending that I do gets blondie away from Hill, I’ll take it. “Then, we have an agreement, yes?”

He smirks, flashing me a glimpse of his inner demon. “After today, I will no longer allow Creed Hill access to Stevie.”

“Don’t play games with me, Lennon,” I seethe .

“You have my word,” he says, relaxing his back against his seat. “Now, about those matters that need the MC’s attention.”