Page 3

Slate

T his was a shithole, Slate decided as Rage entered the strip joint. Jingle Jangles was the epitome of a sleazy strip club. The girl on stage danced without enthusiasm, and Slate recognised the dead look in her eyes.

“Lock this fuckin’ place down,” Drake ordered. “Only Washington’s are allowed entry or exit.”

Rage spread out, taking phones from punters and corralling everyone into the main room. The dancer fled from the stage with some sense of self-preservation left.

“She was taken out back an hour ago. You’re too late,” a female voice whispered, and Slate looked at the waitresses huddled together.

They stared back, scared.

Men had been creating a fuss but stopped when they realised who they were facing. Some security personnel fought back but were incapacitated. The rest, on seeing what happened, came peacefully. In total, Slate saw about one hundred people gathered.

“Get the dancers,” Drake ordered Hunter and Ace. “Slate, Jett, Fish, Gunner, Rock, you’re with me. Start kicking in doors.”

The first door Slate kicked open nearly made him gag. Handcuffed to the bed was a woman, naked and spaced out. Her ankles were cuffed, forcing her legs wide.

“Shit,” Jett said.

“We’re going to need ambos,” Fish muttered as they booted a second door and found a badly beaten woman. Her punter was hiding in the room, and Rock marched him out. The guy kept offering money to let him go, and Rock flattened him with one punch before dumping him in the main area.

The next four rooms opened to similar scenes, girls drugged out of their mind… and then we heard her.

A female was crying and fighting, and we ran up a flight of stairs towards her voice. The screams were louder here, and without hesitation, Drake kicked in a locked door.

A guard pinned a woman on a table, her lower body exposed. Another stood between her legs, his ass showing. A third guy lay curled up on the floor, clutching his balls.

The girl was screaming and putting up a fight, but she was on the losing end.

Gunner flew into the room and punched the man holding her. They began trading blows while Drake ripped the bare-assed rapist away.

Terrified brown eyes met Slate’s.

“Jaelynn!” Slate bellowed, recognising the petrified woman staring at him.

Jaelynn leapt up from the table where she’d been pinned and stumbled over her shorts. In a matter of moments, Slate took in the fact she was naked from the bottom down and that Brice had his cock out. A roar left his mouth, and Slate barrelled past Ace and knocked Brice straight out of Drake’s hands. Slate wordlessly began beating the shit out of him, his fist raising and falling like a piston.

“Slate! Slate! Stop,” Drake ordered, grabbing Slate’s arm. Drake yanked Slate backwards, and he tore himself free, determined to go back after Brice.

“The girl needs you!” Drake yelled in Slate’s face.

Slate paused and blinked. “Jaelynn?”

“Yeah. Jaelynn, she needs you,” Drake repeated.

Slate spun on his ass and noticed Jaelynn curled in a ball in the corner. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and she was shaking all over. Jaelynn’s terrified eyes latched on to Slate, and he cursed before crawling over to her on his knees.

Jaelynn whimpered and cringed back even further. Slate saw the fight had gone out of her, and shock and terror were setting in.

“Baby, it’s Slate,” he whispered. He spun and sat on his ass in front of her, drew his legs up like hers, and wrapped his arms around his own knees.

Jaelynn let out a mournful sound, which reminded Slate of a wounded animal. Slate didn’t rush her, knowing any quick movement would frighten her.

“Babe, I have your tips from the other night. You left them again,” Slate murmured, and Jaelynn tipped her head and blinked.

“Honey, you worked your ass off. The girls were overwhelmed by your help and then your generosity at giving them your tips. They insisted on sharing them,” Slate continued.

“They were hurting me,” Jaelynn whispered, nodding at Brice, who lie on the floor groaning.

Brice and his two bodyguards were in a heap in the corner, with Gunner and Mac standing over them. Every so often, Mac kicked one of them in the ribs.

“They’ll never hurt another woman,” Slate promised.

“Royce has been forcing women to do things, I think,” Jaelyn added.

“Agreed. And Royce won’t ever touch a girl again. Or force her into shit. Baby, it’s killing me, will you come here and let me dress you?” Slate lowered his voice to a begging tone.

Jaelynn flinched back. “I can’t move. Everyone will see me.”

“Turn your backs,” Slate ordered. He spun on his ass and faced away from Jaelynn. His brothers did the same. He heard movement behind him and waited patiently.

“I’m dressed,” Jaelynn finally said.

Slate turned and opened his legs. He patted the floor in front of him. “Come here, baby, you need a hug.”

Slate hurt when Jaelynn eyed him suspiciously, and as she stared at the large men in the room all glowering, she scooted straight into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, and Jaelynn fisted his tee before bursting into tears.

Slate ground his teeth together as he rubbed her back. He heard voices and glanced up as James Washington appeared. By his side were Adam, Jaime, and Jason. All four looked serious.

James took in the scene.

“Brice Jones.” He nodded. “I owe you one, Drake. Adam, Jaime, take that piece of shit and his two sidekicks out,” James said. His eyes were narrowed on Brice, who was awake and paling rapidly as he spotted James.

“You thought you’d sell in my clubs? Peddle your crap on my turf? I might be out of the game, but you made a mistake. I’m not a good guy,” James warned.

Jaelynn had stopped crying; Slate noticed as she watched James Washington out of the corner of her eye.

“Slate may have a claim on Jones,” Drake announced.

James turned and looked at Slate, holding Jaelynn. “That would appear so. Slate?”

“Jaelynn, is there anyone we can call?” Slate murmured.

She shook her head and clung tighter to his tee as James approached.

“Jaelynn, is it? You understand Brice is a bad man?” James said gently.

Jaelynn nodded.

“And horrible men get punished?” James continued.

Jaelyn repeated her nod.

“Honey, we’re going to punish him,” James explained as he hitched his trousers a little and crouched down to eye level with Jaelynn.

Jaelynn looked between Brice and James. “He has people on the police force. Brice won’t be charged,” she whispered.

“Sweetheart, for what he tried to do to you, he won’t be arrested,” James spoke softly. “This is my card. If you ever need help, call. That’s my personal number, so please don’t give it to your friends. My wife wouldn’t approve of a multitude of young women calling me!”

Jaelynn managed a smile, which soon disappeared.

“Take them through the back entrance,” he said to Jaime and Adam.

“Our pleasure,” Jason replied and hauled Brice to his feet. There was a wet patch where Brice had pissed himself, and James looked at him in disgust.

“Can rape a woman but can’t face a man or your actions,” James exclaimed, shaking his head.

“Look, Washington, I have got money…” Brice began.

“That is something I don’t need. I’ve plenty of my own,” James replied and nodded for Jaime, Adam, and Jason to drag them out. He gazed around the room and offered a goodbye.

“See you for dinner Sunday,” Gunner called out.

Slate smiled slightly as James looked resigned but nodded before leaving.

“We gotta get you out of here,” Slate murmured to Jaelynn.

She nodded and shrugged free of his arms. Unsteadily, she began walking to the door, keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact.

“Drake…” Slate said.

“Take her to the hospital. They’ll need to run tests,” Drake replied. He ground his jaw, and Slate understood why.

Jaelynn passed through the door, and Slate paused. “I want Royce.”

“He’s yours,” Drake promised.

Slate headed out after Jaelynn; he assumed she went to collect her things. When she didn’t reappear a few minutes later, Slate went looking for her. Not finding her in the locker room, Slate walked into the main area. He frowned as he gazed around and saw no sign of Jaelynn.

“What’s wrong?” Drake asked, entering.

“Jaelynn’s gone.”

“What?”

“Jaelynn. I can’t find her,” Slate answered, confused.

“Check the doors, see if she has passed one of our guys,” Drake ordered Jett.

Jett returned within minutes. “Nobody’s left. Jaelynn must be here somewhere.”

“Not if she used the secret entrance,” a woman said.

Drake looked at the waitresses standing with the dancers. “Which of you phoned me?”

“I did. Rage MC is rumoured to stop shit like this. Tonight was bad. Royce was high and allowing women to be dragged off stage and raped. When he took Jaelynn, I had to do something,” she explained.

“What’s your name?” Drake demanded.

“Cayla. I’m head waitress. I have tried to protect the girls, but I’ve failed. The cops had several anonymous calls and did nothing. The police have a dirty cop covering shit up somewhere. You were my last hope,” she said.

“Where does Jaelynn live?” Slate asked. Cayla stared at him and pursed her lips. “Jaelynn was raped, I need to get her to the hospital, do you understand?”

“You were too late. Jaelynn keeps to herself. She could do better than this, but she’s running from something. Several times, I told her to leave here, but she said she needed a cash-in-hand job,” Cayla replied.

“She does?” Drake asked as Slate lost his patience.

“What fuckin’ secret door?” he demanded.

“There’s one hidden in the dancer’s room. It is usually covered over with a screen, and it’s padlocked and never been used, but that’s the only way Jaelynn could get out unnoticed,” Cayla answered.

Slate spun on his heel and headed to the dancer’s quarters. There he found the door that Cayla had mentioned and discovered it opened.

“Fuck!” he roared and whipped his phone out. He needed Jaelynn’s address now.

“Slate,” Davies said. “I was going to call you in the morning. I had to stop the dive on Jaelynn, her name triggered an alert.”

“Did you at least get her address for here?”

“Yes. I’ll text it to you. We’re hearing rumours you’re raiding Jingle Jangles. Call me about this alert when you get time.”

“Thanks, Davies,” Slate said and ended the call.

Jaelynn

I raced up the stairs to my piece of shit apartment and let myself in. I locked the door behind me and headed for the bathroom, stripping as I did so.

In the morning, I’d burn that clothing, I would never wear it again. I stepped into the tiny cubicle of a shower and turned it on to scalding, which meant lukewarm with the shitty boiler that serviced it.

Tears streamed down my face as I began scrubbing my body vigorously.

I scoured my skin until it stung and was red raw. And even then, I could not stop. I washed my hair at least five times and lost count of how many times I washed my pussy. Sobs left me, making me shake as I kept washing.

I couldn’t breathe.

No matter how much shower gel I used, I still felt dirty. I couldn’t stand it and screamed.

Fear bubbled over as someone turned the water off and wrapped a towel around me. I opened my mouth to scream, and only whimpers came out.

“Baby, it’s Slate. Slate, honey. I’m not going to hurt you, I’ve brought you a doctor,” he said, holding me tightly in his arms.

Slate? From the bar.

“Jaelynn. My name is Lynda. I own my own clinic, and I’m a surgeon. But I can help you. Will you let me?” a gentle voice asked.

“How… how… did… I locked the door,” I cried.

Slate held me tighter as if he could stop me from shaking and falling apart.

“Slate picked the lock. You didn’t answer, and we knew you were here. We were worried about you,” Lynda said calmly.

“Who are you? Seriously, I helped out in a bar a few times, and that’s it,” I demanded and struggled to get free from Slate.

I needed space and air to breathe, and these people were intruding. My knees hit the bed as I moved backwards, and I scrambled up onto it and curled into a protective ball in the corner.

“Slate, leave,” Lynda ordered.

My gaze lifted to Slate. No man liked to be bossed around.

“Lynda—”

“Slate, Jaelynn has been traumatised, she doesn’t want you here when I check her over,” Lynda cut him off firmly.

“Nobody is checking me over,” I muttered.

Slate shot me a concerned look and then pursed his lips. “I’ll go for a walk.”

Slate left my room, and the front door shut.

“I don’t need you, and I don’t know you,” I said to Lynda.

“Jaelynn, you’ve been through a horrific experience. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, and I won’t insult you by pretending to. But you must have some tests done, and I need to check there’s no damage,” Lynda replied. To her credit, she did keep her distance, giving me my safe area.

“There was no rape. It was close, but they saved me in time,” I hissed.

My mind shied away from the fact that Brice’s cock had been at my entrance.

“Jaelynn—”

“Please don’t!” I screamed. Without meaning to, everything I experienced tonight poured from me as I began crying and shaking.

Lynda crossed the distance and sat on the bed. She didn’t touch or hug me but offered a safe haven for me to spill the shame and hate. Lynda patiently stayed with me for ten minutes as I sobbed and wailed like a baby before pulling myself together.

Quietly, I acquiesced to her examination.

I had bruises on my inner thighs and around my pussy where I had been grabbed hard. My wrists and arms were bruised, and there was a huge bruise on my stomach from where I’d been slammed on to the table. I kept my eyes averted the entire time Lynda examined me and was red with shame and embarrassment at the end of it.

“Jaelynn, you understand you were a victim? You didn’t ask for this to happen,” Lynda said as I put on underwear and thick pyjamas. Moving cautiously, I wrapped a robe around me and pulled on socks, too.

“Of course I didn’t!” I erupted.

“Good. Keep hold of that thought. You are going to have highs and lows. Jaelynn, your mood will vary from self-blame and recrimination, you should have fought harder, screamed louder, hurt them more. Then you’ll spiral into you won, they didn’t rape you, you had a lucky escape, you kept them off you long enough for help to arrive. Those emotions will surface when you’re unprepared. Depression may also factor in. You’ll probably need counselling to resolve some of the issues that’ll happen,” Lynda stated gently.

“I don’t have that luxury. I have to find another job. Please, you have seen I am fine, just go,” I begged.

“Are you sure?” Lynda asked.

“Yes. Please just leave me alone. You’ve checked me over, I’m okay,” I replied.

Lynda rose and offered me a dubious look, but she left. No sooner had she gone than I stripped again and headed into the shower. I hadn’t cleaned myself properly.

Slate

Slate returned to the club where Drake was still holding court. The women who’d been tied to beds, drugged, and sexually assaulted had been sent to the hospital. Royce and his henchmen had all disappeared, and Slate knew they were in the underground room of the crematorium.

Facing Drake were the dancers and waitresses, and as Slate entered, heads turned his way, and Cayla got up.

“Did you find Jaelynn?” she asked.

“Yes. A doctor is with her now.”

“Good.”

Slate walked over to Drake, who stood with Ace and Manny. They were having an intense discussion.

“You don’t run anything,” Drake said as he approached.

“I work,” Slate snapped back defensively.

“Didn’t say that, asshole,” Drake retorted.

“No, I don’t manage anything,” Slate replied. He wondered what was going on, but his mind was also focusing on Jaelynn.

“How about managing a strip club? Rage just came into one,” Drake asked, and Slate’s eyebrows shot up.

“Washington runs the strip clubs around here,” Slate replied.

“Offered him this, Washington refused. Said we can have it. But I ain’t running it like Royce was,” Drake snarled in disgust.

“Pres, I don’t know shit about managing a strip club,” Slate spoke quickly.

“Learn. These girls are now yours. But we’re going to send them home and arrange a meeting for Monday. Get all the dancers and waitresses in, give them some rules, see what they were earning, and so on. And rename this fuckin’ club. Jingle Jangles, is what it says, a cheap strip joint,” Ace stated.

“Rage got the money for this?” Slate asked Manny, who nodded.

“Sure as hell have. And enough to renovate it, make it classy,” Manny said. “Got plenty to sort this shit out. The coffers are rich, and we ain’t bought anything for a while.”

“Great, just what I always wanted to be, a strip joint owner,” Slate complained.

“Suck it up,” Drake replied. “Washington has offered help. Jason is going to send some guys who are proper security. Dancers were forced to have sex with guards and paying customers. You’ve got a lot of shit to deal with.” “Wonderful,” Slate said, glancing over at the crowd of women.

“We took photos of every man here. The girls will identify who they were forced to have sex with. Those assholes will face consequences. You’ll need to interview the dancers, speak to waitresses. We’re unsure about the bartenders yet, that’ll come out during the interviews. No matter what happens, we now protect them,” Ace added.

“Gonna be a lot of beatdowns in Rage’s future,” Slate drawled.

“It’ll give the prospects something to do,” Drake replied. “Make the announcement, Ace, and let’s get out of here. Tell them to return Monday and to inform the other dancers. Also, inform them they’ll be paid for what they lose while we shut. Ain’t gonna put those women through anymore misery.”

Slate watched carefully as the girls looked up as Ace called for attention. He scanned their faces and saw relief when they were informed Royce was no longer in charge. Sceptical glances were exchanged when they were ordered to stay home until Monday, and they would be paid.

“We gotta find a new joint?” a blonde asked.

“No. You all heard of James Washington?” Ace replied. Most of the women nodded. “He’s going to help us sort this shit out. Washington doesn’t peddle flesh, and neither does Rage.”

“Be nice not to have to spread my legs to get money,” someone said, and Slate felt anger settle in his gut.

Royce and those taken tonight were going to pay.

“Put it this way, we find out you’re doling sex, moving forward, you’ll be fired,” Slate announced.

And that ended that discussion.