Page 3 of Sons of Hellfire (Hellfire Society #1)

three

Al i

W hen I arrived a while ago, the club was just starting to get busy for Friday night.

Since it’s usually me and Becka working the bar, I realize that dickhead Jason didn’t call in anyone else to help.

Which makes absolutely no sense since everyone knows Friday and Saturday are our busiest days.

So, for the last few hours, I’ve been running back and forth across the bar, making drinks for the girls to serve on the floor and for the gentlemen who like to sit at the bar.

The moment I get a chance, I need to ask one of the waitresses to cover the bar so I can run to the bathroom.

I desperately need to pee, and my pain meds wore off a bit ago, and I’m starting to feel my earlier therapy session, the fight.

There’s a small lull in orders, and I take that minute to grab some water.

Downing the bottle, I take in the club. Jason, the boss, AKA the Dickhead, opened this place like ten years ago.

I’ve worked here for only two, but the place never changes much.

All the furniture around the place is done up in faux black leather, with silver accents.

There’s a few U-shaped booths set along two walls, giving each a sense of privacy.

But the room is mostly filled with small tables and armchairs that all face a single wide catwalk stage.

Three poles line the center walk for the girls who dance to work the whole stage.

A small DJ booth sits off to the side, almost hidden by the large black velvet drape curtain that leads to the girl’s locker room.

The bar is set against the wall across from the booths.

Thankfully, it’s only half the size of the wall, or my calves would be killing me daily.

The lighting in this delightful place is low and always pointed towards the stage.

It’s the smell I always have to prepare myself for.

Cigar smoke, alcohol, cheap perfume from the girls, and cologne that reeks of desperation.

The further you head in, the more it smells like sex.

Jason wanted to make sure private rooms were available for well-paying clients.

It wouldn’t be called the Sin Den if debauchery wasn’t in its midst. Yeah, Dickhead named this place the Sin Den. How original.

With my mini break over, I head back to serving assholes drinks. Most of them are dirtbags cheating on their wives. I don’t know how many times I’ve watched a man slip off his ring and pocket it before hitting on me or one of the girls. It’s disgusting really, but to each their own.

It’s 1 am when I have to beg Candy to watch the bar so I can finally pee.

Most of these women are decent, but tonight, with only me serving, it is taking me more time to get them their orders.

Which makes them think they are losing out on tips, and that is how we really make our money.

So, I told her I would give her a hundred bucks. Money talks.

I rush to the bathroom in the girl’s locker room, quickly doing my business and feeling the instant relief on my bladder.

Washing up, I realize I had left my pain meds in my car.

Ugh. I head to the back of the club, my body protesting with every step as I go.

Pushing open the back exit, I sigh as the cool night air hits my heated flesh.

You never realize how hot the club gets, but I also think Jason does it on purpose.

If we get hot, we take off more clothes, making the clients happier.

I’m parked around the side of the building and turn to head in that direction when I hear a sudden yelp.

“Help!” a feminine voice yells. “Help! Someone he-“ Her words are cut off by the telltale sign of flesh hitting flesh. A sound I know too well. A slap.

A masculine voice speaks up next. “Shut up, bitch.”

“Will you just grab her and let’s go before anyone sees us?” A new and unfamiliar voice says next.

A whimper sounds next, and then I’m moving in the opposite direction of my car and towards the other end of the building.

The pain I was just feeling is fading as adrenaline takes its place.

I round the corner in time to spot two beefy men trying to grab Mercedes, another dancer, as she kicks and thrashes against their grabby hands.

One of the fuckers has one of his meaty paws against her mouth, preventing her from making any more cries for help.

“Why don’t you let the girl go?” I call out, and the big fuckers freeze. Mercedes’s eyes go wide, a desperate plea to help her, save her. But I don’t linger on her. I take in the men, looking for any weakness that might help take them down faster if this leads to a fight.

The one who was grabbing at her feet drops her and turns towards me.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, sweetheart?

This doesn’t concern you.” He smirks at me like I might actually listen and run away, my tail tucked between my legs.

So, I do something I know will piss him off.

I cross my arms over my chest, pop my hip to the side, and cock a brow. Giving them all my attitude.

“Make me.” I grin. It’s not sweet; no it’s more feral, all teeth and attitude. The men’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Excuse me, bitch.” The other one still holding Mercedes drops her next, then looks at his friend.

“I think this one might be better.” His grin is sinister.

I can feel the malice coming off both of them in waves.

From the corner of my eye, I watch as Mercedes makes a run for it behind them, the men still focused on me.

At least she got away. I think through my options next.

I know on any other day I could probably take both these guys and make it out with a few bruises.

But I’ve already been in a fight today, one where I was clocked in the head.

My body still hurts and hasn’t had nearly enough time to heal, but I don’t think I’m going to have a choice.

I just let their intended prey get away, and the way these two guys are looking at me, they aren’t happy about it.

I consider running, but I already know that would be a bad idea.

They would be like wolves on the hunt. So I do the only thing I know how to do.

Stand my ground. I get into a relaxed position.

Not wanting them to know I can fight and will.

The first asshole chuckles. “I like this one.” He licks his lips.

“We are going to enjoy watching you break.” I glare at his words.

Without a word to each other, both men charge, hands out to grab, but I duck out of the first guy’s hold.

I spin to throw a punch, but asshole number two moves faster than I thought he could, wrapping his tree trunk arms around my chest and pinning my arms. Asshole number one moves in, but I lean back and kick up.

My booted foot connecting with the man’s face.

I hear a crunch of bone, followed by curses.

I grin as the fucker looks up and blood is rushing from his nose.

“You fucking cunt.” He roars, throwing out his fist and connecting with my stomach. I grunt out in pain, but asshole two tightens his grip around me, and my lungs constrict. The fucker is trying to crush me.

“I’m going to kill you.” I snarl, my anger at not being able to move, getting the best of me. Throwing my head back, I try to headbutt the fucker, but he moves out of the way avoiding the hit.

“Can’t wait.” Asshole one says in front of me.

As if it was in slow motion, I watch as asshole one reaches into his pocket and grabs a syringe.

My heart skips a beat, genuine fear taking over.

He raises the device, a smirk on his ugly face.

“Nighty night.” Then I’m being stabbed in the neck.

My head suddenly spins as the asshole holding me releases me.

I fall to the ground, the thump of my body loud and echoing in my head.

“She’s going to make a great addition to the games.” Is the last thing I hear as my world fades to black.

FUCK. MY. LIFE.