Page 6

Jaelynn

S late surprised me with how complimentary he was about the meal. Damien had never been verbose about my cooking and was quite happy to slap me about if he didn’t like something. Slate kept his distance and was respectful but funny.

He told me several stories about his brothers and their old ladies, and I finally admitted to being in the book shop. Slate had roared with laughter when he realised the scene I’d witnessed.

“You should have said hi,” he replied once he stopped.

“I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you,” I muttered.

“It would have given me a chance to escape the strip joint,” Slate responded with a scowl.

“What do you mean?”

“Drake bought the damn club and put me in as manager. I don’t wanna be dealing with a shitload of women’s drama, and I’ve seen how those bitches get.” Slate scowled.

I bristled, but Slate continued.

“Hell, Jaelynn, I am not the man to decide if a thong makes a woman’s ass look fat. Nor am I going to wade in over stolen pasties. I’m not gonna choose who gets what spot, and fuck me if I need to choose costumes. Jeez, I’m not that guy!”

“Usually, they fight it out amongst themselves,” I replied, amused.

Slate looked beleaguered.

“I’ve got a meeting with them tomorrow. And all my brothers are busy. I’ve shanghaied two of the prospects because I’m not dealing with them alone,” Slate complained.

“It’s a mess over there,” I muttered.

Slate nodded. “You’re telling me. Half the fuckin’ security was raping the dancers when they were drugged up. I have a list of punters to show the women to identify if they were forced to sleep with them or not. The club is a cesspit. Everything needs ripping out, modernising, and making classy. Each of the staff requires a health check, who knows how many were abused. They also need paying while the joint is shut. Then the membership requires checking.

“Mac had discovered two accounts in Royce’s name that hold tons of cash. I’ve no doubt that’s money made off those women’s backs. And those that were chained up? Shit, them and the rest need counselling. James Washington is probably laughing himself sick right now,” Slate moaned.

“He didn’t want the club? Someone said he runs strip clubs,” I asked.

“No. Washington refused it. He had enough of his own. Drake didn’t want the women to suffer under somebody else, so he fuckin’ bought it. He should run the damn thing,” Slate complained.

“But he’s made you?”

“Yeah, and I sound like a whiny asshole,” Slate answered, and chuckled.

“Get Cayla on side. Everyone respected her, she’d be great as a manager,” I suggested.

“You think so?”

“The dancers never argue with her, and Cayla’s known to be fair. Speak to her first and offer her the role. If the waitresses and girls see Cayla at your back, you’ll have an easier go of it,” I said.

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind,” Slate replied.

◆◆◆

I served up dinner, almost laughing as Slate kept sniffing the air. When I placed a pork chop on his plate, I swear he drooled.

Slate put the salad on the small dining table as I dished up the fries, corn, potato salad, and some fresh bread I’d bought.

“This looks amazing,” Slate said as he grabbed a slice and spread butter over it.

“It was easy to make. I enjoy cooking, and this didn’t take much fussing.”

“This is homemade?” Slate asked, scooping potato salad up and issuing a low moan.

“My Aunt Elsie’s recipe. She loves cooking and baking, I should be the size of a cherry barrel because of how she cooked. Dorothy has to jog to keep her weight down. It amuses Aunt Elsie,” I explained without thinking and bit my lip.

“Are they sisters?” Slate inquired. “Shit, this is fuckin’ amazing,” he added around a bite of pork chop.

“They’re married,” I replied and tensed up.

“Good for them. How long?”

“Ten years nearly. As soon as the ruling came in, Dorothy and Aunt Elise were up that courthouse and wed. They were so happy,” I answered cautiously.

Their marriage had offended Damien. He claimed it wasn’t legal in the eyes of God and said plenty of other homophobic things. Of course, I found his stash of lesbian porn; it seemed he didn’t mind hot young women going down on each other.

“Good for them, they sound like an amazing couple,” Slate stated and gazed at me. “Are they protected from what you’re running from? Rage has safe houses we can put them in.”

I stared at Slate before bursting into tears again.

Slate dropped his cutlery and reached out to grasp my hand. “What did I say?” he demanded, aghast.

“You offered to take care of my family. What the hell is wrong with me? I never cry like this,” I sobbed.

Slate laughed as he shoved a napkin under my nose. “Need me to hold you?”

“Yes!” I wailed and crawled into his lap. Slate’s chest kept moving as he chuckled again, and I thumped him lightly. That made him laugh even more. Eventually, I stopped wailing, and I warmed our cold dinners up. Luckily, it tasted just as good, and Slate certainly didn’t seem to care.

After dinner, Slate insisted on stacking the dishwasher and said he had to leave. He asked if he could come back tomorrow, and I agreed.

For some reason, I wasn’t frightened of Slate. Everything he spoke could be a lie, but there was a sincerity about Slate that was real. One that couldn’t be faked. What was even stranger was I’d not pried into his MC. Were they one percenter and dirty? Were they just a riding club? I honestly had no idea. But after the way they’d looked after me, they could be tying bad guys up and beating the shit out of them, and I wouldn’t care. They’d treated me kindly, and that’s all that mattered.

Slate

He spat in Royce’s face as his fist hit Royce’s side again. Slate remained silent despite Royce’s incessant chatter. That had stopped about a minute ago as Slate had broken his jaw, and all Royce could do was scream.

“What ya wanna do, brother?” Texas asked.

“All those girls chained up and raped. Drugged up, so they didn’t fight. You gotta have dropped some bodies,” Slate growled out.

“Ain’t disagreeing,” Drake agreed.

“Burn the fucker alive,” Slate said, and Ace’s eyes widened before a nasty grin crossed his face.

“Why the fuck not?” Ace replied. He turned to the prospects. “Leave, this isn’t for you to witness.”

“Veep—” Jared began.

“No. You’re too young. In a couple of years, yeah. Not now. Go,” Ace insisted. Harley, Christian, and Jared left. Grey remained.

“Ain’t no kid Ace,” Grey said.

“You were a Fed. You’re telling me this ain’t gonna go against the grain for you?” Ace demanded.

“You know how many women we saved? A drop in the fuckin’ ocean. Burn the bastard. Hell, I’ll throw him in,” Grey offered.

“That’s my boy,” Axel replied, and a meaty fist slapped Grey on the back and knocked him forward two steps.

“Sure on this?” Drake asked, studying Grey’s face.

“Drake, I ain’t no kid. I will sleep just fine at night,” Grey insisted and folded his arms.

“Slate, you, Grey, and Blaze, take Royce down and introduce him to our crematorium,” Drake ordered.

Slate grinned and lifted Royce off the hook he was dangling from. Grabbing his hair, Slate began dragging him from the room as Royce screamed and kicked. Blaze and Grey followed behind.

“I’ll clean up,” Ace said as Slate left.

Slate wasn’t too bothered. He had a scumbag to burn.

Despite Royce’s screams, Slate slept well that night. Not a single nightmare disturbed him.

◆◆◆

Slate walked into the strip joint an hour before the meeting and nodded at Cayla, who was waiting.

“Slate,” she greeted as she carried two coffees over.

“Cayla, thanks for seeing me,” Slate said.

“I’m curious. We all noticed this weekend the club is under Rage MC now. The shit that happened with Royce won’t happen with Rage,” Cayla stated.

Slate tilted his head. “Who are you to say so?”

“Rage hasn’t peddled flesh since Drake took over. That is a known fact. Whatever you’re planning, the girls will be safe,” Cayla answered.

“True. Drake wants to run this. But the fuck I’m going to be spending my nights in this shithole,” Slate agreed.

“What’s your plan?”

“Ace and Rock are coming in to redesign everything. While that’s happening, I want to get to know the waitresses, dancers, and staff,” Slate stated.

“Why?”

“Cayla, if we have a weak link, I need to be aware. Most of the girls were drugged and sexually abused. But do I have a druggie here? Someone selling sex? How the fuck do I know? I gotta weed those out now, so when the club reopens, I’m not chasing my tail,” Slate replied.

“Makes sense. And you have a couple of both. Do you have a list of names? And what about the security guards?” Cayla asked.

“I fired them all. If there were any good ones, tell me, I’ll rehire them, but they’ve all been sacked for now. Plus, Rage is investigating all of them. By the way, you’re taking one of the manager positions,” Slate stated and, ignoring Cayla’s gasp, got to work.

After an hour, Slate had an idea of who to keep and who to dismiss. By the time everyone arrived, some arriving up to fifteen minutes late, Slate was ready.

He instantly fired the three dancers Cayla had identified as drug users. They were offered rehab, and when they sneered, Jared escorted them out. Two waitresses followed for selling drugs. Two girls who were pimping their services and unwilling to stop were dismissed, too. The remaining dancers and waitresses looked stunned.

“Rage is aware of what happened. We don’t sell pussy. This week, you’ll sign proper contracts with the club. These will offer you an hourly wage plus the tips you get from dancing. You’ll be entitled to health and dental care and four weeks paid vacation a year. That’ll be booked in advance. If you are genuinely sick, you’ll receive your basic wage, keep pulling fake sickies, and you’re out on your ear.

“Before any of you start working, you’ll all see a doctor and get a clean bill of health. Should there be any problems, you’ll be asked to share them with me so I can help. If you’re uncomfortable, go to Cayla. She’s now a manager.

“You’ll be entitled to free soft drinks and a meal each night. Sex is not on the menu. If you give a private lap dance, it’s hands off, and you’ll be on camera, voice recorded, and security will be outside your room. Should a punter become grabby, guards can be inside within seconds. They’ll then pay a punishment fee that you’ll receive. Before anyone thinks of getting grab-happy for cash, you will be filmed, and we’ll hear everything said.

“This place is shut down for at least the next four weeks. During that time, you’ll get paid. But we expect you to attend the health check and see a shrink. It is unacceptable that some of you experienced rape. And just because you strip, it doesn’t mean you asked for it. Nobody touches an employee of Rage and walks away. Stripping doesn’t equate rape. And any fucker who thinks differently will learn a lesson.

“As for the line-up, that’s Cayla’s choice. Do not bring me bitchy issues. If you get too big for your boots, you’ll lose your place and get a shit one. Think of that before throwing gloves down. And nobody, not security, a punter, or Rage member—brother or prospect—has the right to coerce sex from you. Should that happen, even if it’s a brother of mine, you come to me. I don’t stand for abuse.

“Last thing. We’re having photos taken of every person who attended this shithole. If you were forced into sex with them, we want to know. Any questions?” Slate glanced around and thought he was about to escape free, but voices rose at once.

“Are you seriously putting us on a contract?”

“Yes,” Slate replied.

“We get medical coverage?”

“Yup.” Slate nodded.

Cayla grinned as the girls continued to bombard him.

Slate rubbed his brow and settled in.

Jaelynn

Slate was not as bossy as his brother Rock nor anywhere near as surly. I’d been working here two nights, and this was the first time I had worked with him.

“Keys, Jaelynn,” he grunted.

“I’ll move my car,” I replied.

“Is it dark out there? Is the reason I’m moving your car so you can leave safely tonight? If I let you go outside to shift your wheels so you can reach it unharmed, isn’t that undermining the entire process?” Rock demanded.

I considered that before agreeing.

“Hand me your key. I’ve got Lisa’s,” Rock stated.

I gave Rock my keys, and he stomped off. Banshee, a brother from Hellfire, chuckled.

“Just give Rock what he wants when he wants it. And Gunner, Texas, and Drake. They’re surly bastards,” Banshee said.

“So I see,” I replied and grabbed my tray to deliver drinks.

As it was a Monday, it wasn’t too busy. Alexa and I took it in turns for one of us to take orders, and the other to clear the dirties. Not a single guy put his hand on my ass nor harassed me. I’d have been insulted, but Alexa stated that Rage and Hellfire were well known for putting a beatdown on someone who sexually abused their staff.

That was a nice feeling. It was also good that the two bikers helped. Alexa explained that there was always a Rage or Hellfire behind the bar permanently. Sometimes, they overlapped and pulled longer shifts. Mac ran the bar for Rage, but it was a shared venture with Hellfire, which was why one was always present.

Towards the end of the night, I was shocked when a woman grabbed hold of me and spun me around.

“You’re the thief,” she accused.

“I beg your pardon?” I spluttered, offended.

“You stole my job, what did you do? Give them a blowie in the toilets?” the girl kept accusing.

“How dare you!” I exclaimed, yanking my arm free. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alexa waving in Rock’s direction.

“There was no reason to sack me, Hailee, or Skylar,” the woman hissed in my face.

“Ariel, let her go. You got yourself fired by not turning up on a busy shift. The three of you bragged on social media, for fuck’s sake, about being at that concert. You abandoned us on a Friday night!” Alexa yelled as she stormed over.

Ariel gave me a shove and turned to Alexa. “What are you going to do, bitch?”

I regained my footing and pushed Ariel back hard. “Don’t push me. I didn’t do anything and didn’t deserve that. I didn’t steal your job.”

“Did you just touch me?” Ariel demanded, her voice turning high-pitched.

“You shoved me first. What gives you the right to shove me?” I exclaimed.

“You stole my job!” Ariel shrieked.

“The fuck she did. You pissed it off yourself. You went to a concert after being told you couldn’t have the time off. Ariel, you left the bar and the staff in shit creek. Don’t fuckin’ come here running your mouth because you fucked up,” Rock snapped, appearing.

“Rock, I need the money, please,” Ariel begged with tears in her eyes.

I felt bad for her.

“We needed you Friday. You didn’t give a fuck about us then,” Rock snarled in her face.

“Rock, the Hell’s Rage pays well, and the tips are amazing. Plus, I never went home with bruises on my ass! Where’s the loyalty, I did a good job!” Ariel exclaimed.

“You want us to be loyal to you now? Where was your loyalty, Ariel? Time to go, bitch. You did this to yourself,” Rock said and nodded towards the door. “Leave on your own accord, or I’ll put you out.”

“Rock. Don’t be like that. Honestly, I’ve worked Hell’s Rage for ages and never missed a shift before,” Ariel insisted.

I was starting to feel sorry for her.

“Ariel, you fucked us over. Nobody fucks Rage or Hellfire over,” Rock boomed and grabbed her arm. “Then you come and assault our new waitress. That shit don’t wash!”

Ariel began yelling as Rock dragged her towards the entrance, and I turned and looked at Alexa with huge eyes.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, she asked for it. And there were images all over social media of them partying while we were snowed under. I think Ariel and the others thought they’d get away with it. Which is crazy because that shit is seriously bang out of line. Bad enough they didn’t turn up; to advertise it, well, that’s spitting in Rage and Hellfire’s faces,” Alexa replied. “Are you okay? Ariel shoved you quite hard.”

“I’m good. Thanks for coming to help. I’d no idea who the hell she was,” I responded.

“Closing up,” Banshee yelled from the bar as he rang the bell.

I finished clearing the tables and made sure everything was tidy.

Banshee watched Alexa and I hit our cars and waited until we drove off. I liked that because even once inside your car, nobody was quite safe. You could still be attacked.

Once I got home, I locked the doors and headed for bed. I was tired but in a good way. And like Ariel had pointed out, I’d no bruises to show either.

Slate

“Ariel shoved Jaelynn?” Slate growled angrily.

He leaned against the bar in the clubhouse as Jared poured coffees for the brothers in attendance.

“Jaelynn pushed her right back,” Rock added with a yawn.

“Good for her. Ariel always thought her shit didn’t stink, and I’m sure she was looking to hook up with a brother,” Slate replied, silently proud of Jaelynn.

“Ah, a wannabe,” Lindsey said, popping up at his elbow and reaching for his mug. Slate handed it over. Lindsey was an asshole until she was caffeinated. The quicker they filled her up, the better for them.

Lowrider grinned at him as Jared made Slate another coffee, and clearly, Jared had encountered asshole Lindsey because he slid a second cup in front of her too.

“When is Aaron trying out?” Slate asked Jared.

“Next week. We think he’s got a place, but Aaron won’t count his chickens,” Jared replied.

“Nice. Drake and Phoe going?” Lowrider inquired.

“Yeah. Ain’t every day your kid gets a tryout for the NFL.” Jared looked proud of his younger brother.

“And you? When’s the next fight? I wouldn’t mind coming along,” Slate said.

“Next week. Mum still won’t come.” Jared grinned.

“I can understand that. I couldn’t watch EJ in a cage match,” Lindsey interrupted.

“It’s not cage fighting, it is mixed martial arts, MMA,” Jared explained.

Lindsey eyed him. “Do you fight in a cage? Yes? It’s cage fighting.”

And that ended that argument.

Slate turned his attention back to Rock. “Did you throw Ariel out?”

“Yup. And put the word out, she’s blacklisted. She’ll notget a job in this town,” Rock replied.

“Mac had already done that, but you reinforcing it will get the message across,” Slate said, satisfied. Nobody put their hands on Jaelynn and walked away. Not while he was around.