Page 61 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

Chapter

Forty-Two

Day Two - Night.

Twirling in the middle of the road in the abandoned downtown of Kings Cursed, my dress swirls around me as I smile up at the sparkly night sky and breathe in the cool, fresh air. The nip of fall is upon us, and as much as I love summer, fall is the absolute best.

A light breeze ruffles my curls, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have since I can remember.

Hovering close by, Coffin stands guard, his head on a constant swivel, like he’s afraid someone will race through downtown like a bat outta hell and mow me over.

Hardly.

The dim streetlights cast a pretty glow over the chipped sidewalks in front of the old, worn storefronts, which could regain their former glory with a little TLC.

What is it about old shops in small towns that seem to have all the charm?

The details in the carved window framing and wooden doors are so beautiful that when you close your eyes, you can almost picture the shop bustling with people from another time.

You rarely find that in bigger cities anymore.

All the character has bled into modern, sleek lines, sucking all the warmth and detail from the world. Or that’s how I see it.

I don’t know about you, but a cozy store with tall ceilings makes my heart happy. I bet this place was hoppin’ half a century ago.

The sun-stained outline of an old sign above a shop with a dilapidated awning reads Mal’s Malt Shop . I skip over to the window, wipe the side of my hand across the dirty pane, and try to peek inside, but it’s too dark.

Darn.

My shoulders slump as Rot stops beside me, takes my hand, spits on the side, and wipes it on his pant leg. “That’s gross, Red. If you wanna see inside, we can come during the day.”

“You spit on me. I think that’s grosser.”

Smirking, Rot rolls his eyes, and I shiver as the breeze tickles the hairs on my arms, forcing them to stand on end. Necro crosses the street and shrugs off his leather jacket. He steps up behind me and feeds my arms through the holes.

“I don’t need this,” I tell him as the weight settles on my shoulders, exposing him to the elements. None of them are wearing much for clothes beyond jackets and jeans. They didn’t put on shirts for our little town outing. Not that we went far from home.

“You’re gonna get cold,” I comment, eyeing his bare chest.

You are cold, he signs, and I sigh .

Fine.

“We can share it,” I offer. “I’ll warm up and give it back.”

A chuckle vibrates in Necro’s throat, and he shakes his head, running a hand down his eight stupidly ripped hot-man abs.

“Will you stop that?” I scold, pointing to all those bumps with my leather jacket-covered hand. I force my fingers through the hole and try again, so I look more like an adult and less like a five-year-old swimming in a coat four sizes too big.

He arches a dark brow and cocks his head to the side. Stop what?

“That.” Frustrated with this encounter for no logical reason, I gesture to all six feet and some odd inches of him standing on the sidewalk, shirtless, with hard nips and cum-gutter hips.

Down the way, Coffin hollers, “Come on,” from King’s Cunts strip club.

Holding the door open, he sweeps his hand for us to get our asses inside.

A woman pops out, tall, blonde, and topless.

She takes one long, sexy look at Coffin and runs a finger down the center of his bare chest to the buckle of his belt, and I see red.

Thankfully, he does, too, when he seizes her hand and shoves it back at her as we make our way over.

Swearing under my breath, I step directly in front of Coffin and put my hand out to the woman who still hasn’t left, despite Coffin’s brush-off.

“Sola,” I introduce myself with a bit of sass, and her eyes get big. Not just kinda big, but Uranus big.

Apparently, she’s heard of me, which makes sense if the brothers frequent here and I’m the only woman currently living in the church.

That much is confirmed when Necro steps up behind me, and she reads the name patched on the chest of the jacket I’m wearing, stating he’s president.

The woman damn near trips over her feet when she about-faces and races into the club, probably to alert the masses of our presence, or in reality, to the four people inside.

Rot slips past me, snickering at our exchange, and leads the charge into the club.

“You sure know how to make an impression, Red,” he teases.

Not amused, I flip off his back. She didn’t ask Coffin if he wanted to be touched.

At least I was nice about it. I could have gone old-school and torn her hair out in a catfight, but I’m grown.

I can kill people with kindness, even if I still want to break her finger for assuming it’s okay to touch him. He doesn’t like it.

Necro rests his hand on the slope of my back, and Coffin brings up the rear as we reach the main room that looks like something out of the seventies, with wood paneling and dark orange carpet everywhere.

It smells old, too. There’s a single stage with a gold pole in the center, surrounded by brown leather bucket seats.

We’re greeted by a different woman with more clothes on this time, gray hair, and a kind smile that reaches her eyes. She doesn’t spare any of the men a single mind when she meets my gaze and offers me her hand. “You must be Sola. I’m Miriam. I run this place.”

Her hand is warm and soft as we exchange pleasantries. Miriam gives me a peaceful vibe like Kali, only more grandmotherly. She seats us in a dark corner with four chairs and a table, offering a clear view of the stage.

She waves a waitress over. “Tanya, this is Sola, and she’s…”

“It’s great to finally meet you. To put a face to the name.

” Tanya beams, seeming just as genuine as Miriam as she offers me a little wave.

Even though her bare breasts are staring straight at me in what is an obvious boob job, her stomach is as flat as a pancake, and her skirt is an inch from showing us the goods, she draws a sincere smile to my lips.

There’s something kind and sweet about her.

The brothers probably drool every time they look at her.

She’s stunning, but it’s more than that.

“I’m Rot.” He lifts and drops his hand as if bored out of his mind, but trying to be polite.

Tanya sneaks the quickest peek at him and blushes worse than I do.

Trust me, I get it. He’s smoking hot.

“This is Coffin.” I nod toward the woman hater who’s glaring at Tanya. I slap his leg. “Stop that.”

He fixes his expression, but not before frowning at me for being scolded.

“Please tell anyone who’s here not to touch him. Ever… Please… And this is Necro.” I gesture to their president.

Tanya’s head bobs like a bobblehead doll, and she forces an uncomfortable smile when she lifts and drops her hand just as quickly to pay respect to the club president.

I glance at Necro, seated beside me, to gauge his reaction, but there is none.

He’s not even looking at her. He’s staring past her. At literally nothing .

This has to be the oddest strip club experience of any woman’s life—mine included.

A few brothers sit around the stage, but they’re constantly looking over their shoulders our way as the blonde from the door takes the floor and works gymnastic magic to Def Leppard.

Tanya collects our drink orders, which don’t contain any alcohol, only sodas, and once she’s out of earshot, I address these weird men at my table. Not a single one of them is acting normal.

“What’s going on?”

Coffin stands from his chair, pulls me up from mine, and plops me on his lap. “Are you using me as a human shield?” I tease.

“No. I don’t want to be here,” he grumbles, wrapping his arms tightly around my middle. His hot breath tickles my nape.

“Why?”

Coffin rests his forehead against my shoulder. “’Cause I only see women naked when I’m about to kill ‘em, and… the only woman who makes my dick hard for real is you. I don’t need this shit.”

“But… she’s beautiful.” I nod toward the stunning woman on stage.

Without looking up, he mutters, “She’d be more beautiful cold, lying dead in a coffin, in my cemetery, with her trophy on my shelf.”

“Coffin,” I scold, slapping the side of his thigh.

Not giving a single damn, I sense him shrug.

“He’s right,” Rot cuts in, slinking down in his chair, manspreading like a sullen teenager. “You wanted to come here, Red. So, we’re here. These women don’t do shit for me.”

“Are you being for real right now? You own a strip club.” It’s not like there aren’t quality women running around half-naked in this place. Even I see the appeal.

“So? I now own chickens, too. They also have breasts, but you don’t see them gettin’ me any hornier than these females.

” Rot throws a hand toward the stage, and the dancer definitely notices because she slips on her platform heels and catches herself on the pole before she lands on her ass.

Her smooth transition into some leg-twirly thing is impressive, but her attention continues to swing our way.

“Rot.” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest and wiggling my butt to get comfortable on Coffin’s firm lap. “You could have let me know if you didn’t want to come. That would have been fine.”

“Necro said you wanted to see the town and the strip club. So, we’re doin’ that.”

“Then show me the town. We don’t have to stay here.”

Tanya returns with our drinks and sets them on the table.

I glance between the guys for money, because I didn’t even think about that before coming here.

Plus, I don’t have any. Tanya notices my discomfort immediately.

“It’s taken care of.” She smiles and sashays away.

I wait to see if any of the guys’ eyes follow her nice ass, but they’re too busy being uncomfortable to pay attention to anything else beyond their distress.

Coffin sucks on the crook of my neck and ignores the world around us.

These are by far the strangest men.