Page 7

Slate

S late walked into the strip club and nodded approval. The red walls and tacky leopard skin shit had all been ripped out.

Cayla stood in the middle of the chaos, giving commands as guys carried out the old, beaten tables and seating. He’d quickly grown to depend on her; she was honest, organised and creative. Cayla had interviews planned for door guards and on-floor security. She was also looking for some surveillance officers.

James Washington had sent six of his men over who used to work clubs and now sat twiddling their fingers at his home. Slate had hired them instantly. If they worked for Washington, then they were safe.

“Is the bar being demolished, ma’am?” a worker inquired.

“Yes, tear it all down. We’ve bought new stuff. I want a huge empty room when we’re done. Morning, Slate,” she called on seeing him.

“You got the plans?” he asked, approaching.

“Pinned on the wall over there,” Cayla replied and pointed.

Apache had drawn them up quickly, and he’d approved them. A staggered VIP section had been designed. Each level would have its own bar and staff. Finally, the main floor level of the club would feature a combination of booths and tables.

The bar was being made larger, and more shelves added for high-end drinks. The cheap swill previously sold here had been removed. A dive bar had already bought the remaining stock, and Slate had been in touch with the bar’s suppliers to start placing orders.

The women’s dressing rooms were being extended to twice their size with a table for every dancer to get ready at. Lockers were being placed into another room so they could leave their outfits, day clothing, and personal belongings there. Each member of staff would have their own locker and key, just in case someone got the idea to duplicate them and rob people.

Slate looked at the plans, noting the colour scheme Cayla had chosen.

“You sure that’s classy?” he asked.

“You want warm and welcoming, not sleazy and decrepit. That colour will welcome the public in, add to the ambience and people will feel at ease. My concern is the security systems, where we’re placing the cameras,” Cayla replied.

“Don’t fret too much. Hawthorne’s will be doing that for us. What are your thoughts on the private rooms?

“They need surveillance,” Cayla said.

Slate chuckled. “That wasn’t why I was asking. I meant colour schemes.”

“Oh. I described what I wanted to Apache, and he’s going to come up with some drawings. I went with a more French Boudoir style of furnishings and colours,” Cayla replied.

“Great. And the staff? Are they taking advantage of the medicals we offered? If they haven’t, then it’s a no-go for their job,” Slate said.

“Every single person has signed a medical release form naming you and I to receive reports. And they’ve organised appointments. Several of the dancers have also booked with the shrink you offered once I confirmed the club is paying for it. Nearly all have signed their contracts, and Mr Washington is sending over his HR lady to help us set up sick and holiday systems,” Cayla replied.

Slate nodded.

“Don’t suppose we could steal her?” Slate questioned.

Cayla smirked. “Do you want a war with Mr Washington?”

“Fuck no. His brother, Gunner, would kick the shit out of me,” Slate replied quickly.

“Then no, we can’t kidnap her, but I’ve asked if she knows anyone looking for an HR role. Drake has spoken to me, too, he said if we can find someone, he’ll probably use her for all Rage businesses.”

“Not a bad idea. Rage is certainly employing more staff lately,” Slate agreed.

“Here’s the upstairs office layout. They’re replacing the upper wall section with reinforced one-way glass. That’ll be your office. My office and the other manager’s office will be further along and smaller. Or we could share if you insist. Security, camera systems, and staff area will be located upstairs too. We’re putting in a small kitchenette for the workers to use and a panic room,” Cayla said.

“Okay. Hawthorne is making sure the dancers can lock themselves down, too?”

“Yes. And there’ll be a bulletproof screen that will drop from the ceiling to cover the bar. The entrances and exits are also being given the deadbolts you asked for. Apache and Rock are changing the entrance. They’ll now enter the building’s far end, walk along a corridor, and through a set of doors into a lobby containing the cloakroom. Once there, security will buzz them in. All the doors are being fitted with deadbolts, and panic buttons are being placed to slam them shut…

“Slate, I must ask, are these measures really necessary? It feels like overkill.”

“Cayla, you hear there’s a war coming?” Slate asked.

“There are a lot of rumours, but no one is confirming shit,” Cayla said.

“It’s true. All Rage businesses are undergoing this process of security. As are our allies. If we get hit and we’ve got patrons, we want to ensure their safety. Nobody can get past that metal detector carrying a gun. Security will search them before letting them through. Should a weapon be discovered, four holding cells are being built in that corridor. Anyone intending harm won’t get into the main space,” Slate replied.

“This Venomous Fang threat is real?” Cayla asked, biting her lip.

“Yeah. And Rage is joining with the RCPD. We are going to fight until there’s nobody left standing. Rage is prepared to defend RC,” Slate replied.

“Okay.” Cayla gave herself a shake and then pointed at another plan. She took a deep breath. “We’re putting in a kitchen and will need staff for it. During the day we’ll serve sandwiches and hot snacks and, in the evening, basket meals. Washingtons said they go down well and provide a good source of extra revenue.

“I’ve also had some ideas. Apache is going to create a space here,” Cayla explained, pointing to the map. “And make this a party room. It’ll have its own bar and waitresses, and a serving hatch will be run to it. The club could hold stag, birthday, and other parties. And if not in use, it’s somewhere the girls can practise new routines.”

“Security?”

“Cameras and two on the door when the party is happening,” Cayla replied.

“You’ve got some great ideas. We need to start putting out ads for recruitment. We’ve got vacancies,” Slate replied.

“That’s on my to-do list. Slate, we need to advertise for dancers, waitresses, bar staff, chefs, and cleaning people. I’ve also had an idea to run past you. Can we hold a ladies’ night once a week? Say on a Thursday. Hire some male strippers and make it purely for girls only. I think we’ll pull in a lot of customers,” Cayla said.

“Washington’s clubs typically feature separate areas for men and women. I prefer a different approach, and your idea is excellent. Go for it.”

“Great. Now we’re up to date,” Cayla stated. “Yes, that needs to go too!” she called out as a workman looked at the ugly ornate mirrors stuck to the walls.

“Thanks,” Slate replied as she bustled off. He was totally amused. Slate watched for half an hour as they ripped the stage out and winced as he saw how rotten the wood was. It was damn lucky that nobody had got hurt.

“Oh, Cayla!” he called, suddenly remembering something as Cayla hurried over. “Did you get the names of ex-dancers who were abused here?”

“Yes. I have a list of every girl that passed through those doors, even if for one evening. Considering shit has been occurring for two years since Royce took over, the turnover isn’t as high as I expected. But there’re some concerns. Some girls lasted one night and left. Some managed a week. And others just vanished. I have their names and addresses. Like some sort of fuckin’ idiot, Royce kept everything.”

“Rage is going to chase them up. Get me the list, and the money Rage found will be divided between those who were raped. We’ve also sent six of dancers to rehab. The doctor confirmed that they’d been drugged against their will. The six from the night we raided this shithole. We’re hoping because they were forced to take drugs, they’ll kick it easier,” Slate said.

“That’s good to know. There was some concern that they vanished. I can tell the others now,” Cayla responded.

“Wait, they signed contracts even though they thought we’d disappeared some of the women?” Slate asked, confused.

“Yeah. Slate, you offered the basic pay and health care. They’d have sucked all of Rage’s cocks for that little sign of respect. None assumed you’d harmed the girls, but there was concern. Now I can put their mind at ease,” Cayla said, and Slate nodded.

“Shit,” Slate muttered. What had Royce and his cronies made these women suffer? Slate’s mind flicked to Royce, and he wished he was still here so he could burn him alive all over again!

Jaelynn

Tiredly, I finished putting the paperwork into piles and blew a strand of hair out of my eyes. How Ezra and Slate had ever managed to get bills paid, I had no idea. This was my second day, and I’d been emptying boxes, filing cabinets, and lord knows what else. Every piece of paper found its place within a pile.

Ezra was due back soon, and I’d put the kettle on to wait for him. However, I needed some office supplies. Like pens, for instance!

The door banged open, and I sighed. Luckily, I’d weighted every pile down with something.

“Oops, sorry!” Ezra said, walking in.

“Coffee is there. Do not touch any of these piles!” I ordered as Ezra started to move one.

Ezra flinched, replaced, and patted it.

“Ezra, I need some office supplies. Pens, pencils, erasers, drawing pins, paperclips, paperweights…”

“Here,” Ezra threw me a card, and I caught it. “Get what you need.”

“Just like that? Is this a business card?”

“Yeah, and you ain’t likely to steal from me, babe. If you want, go shopping now,” Ezra said with a shrug.

“Er, I need files, too. And poly-pockets and labels, it will be expensive,” I replied.

“Jaelynn, you got a one-k budget. Go nuts. Hey, phone Silvie at Made by Rage. She has all colourful stuff. Ask her where she bought it from. But call her today because she is off from tomorrow. She’s going in for an operation…” Ezra trailed off, looking worried.

“Silvie?” Who the hell was Silvie?

“She’s Apache’s old lady. Silvie’s got a condition called SPD, Symphysis pubis dysfunction. Shit, we can spell that fucker in our sleep. Basically, Silvie’s pelvis is fucked, and it causes heaps of pain. She’s having surgery for permanent correction. We’re hoping it will save Silvie a lot of grief and agony,” Ezra explained.

“That sounds awful,” I exclaimed, feeling sorry for the unknown woman.

“It’s been hard on all of us. Silvie’s special to Rage. She stuck by us through the war to get clean and everything. Silvie’s like a sister to most of us. It’s rough on Apache because he blames himself for getting her knocked up, which is what caused the issue. Silvie’s been in a wheelchair since her last kids were born. We’re hoping this will ease the pain and she’ll be able to walk again,” Ezra continued.

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah. Anyway, you get off. Pick up the stuff tomorrow, and I won’t touch shit. Do you have enough filing cabinets?”

“No idea. We’ll soon find out!” I replied, and Ezra laughed.

“Go on with you, Jaelynn. You’ve worked hard today,” he said and looked out of the dirty window as he heard bike pipes.

That was also on my to do list, cleaning and sprucing the office up when the paperwork was done. Ezra needed somewhere nice to bring clients.

Ezra’s office was set in a yard where it was all chained off with electric fencing signs. He had a lot of heavy equipment and two portacabins. Ezra and I shared an office with a small bathroom and kitchenette in ours. The second held models and pictures of his work. It was like a display case for customers to view. Honestly, it was a pretty good idea.

Despite the fact this was a working yard, it was neat and tidy, with several large sheds for handheld equipment. I’d discovered that this was Ezra’s own business and not a Rage-owned one.

“Looks like you’ve got company,” Ezra drawled as the door opened and Slate entered. “Jaelynn’s just finished. She’s all yours!”

“Cheers, bro,” Slate replied and offered me a grin. “Fancy a drive and food?”

“I’m not dressed for dinner,” I said, looking down at my jeans and tee. Slate had told me to dress casually and wear boots because accidents were always waiting to happen.

“You look perfect to me,” Slate complimented me.

“But I’ve got to go shopping, that’s why Ezra’s letting me leave early,” I replied.

“No, it’s not. I told you to scat,” Ezra interjected, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying something, but I’d no idea what.

Slate looked to the heavens and sent Ezra a warning look.

“No, I won’t take advantage of you!” I exclaimed, and Ezra opened his mouth.

“Say a word, and I will break your neck,” Slate growled out, and Ezra winked.

“I’m going shopping, and then I can meet you,” I said to Slate, confused.

Were these two telepathically speaking or something? They were confusing the hell out of me.

“I’ll come with you. I’m done for the day,” Slate replied and shot Ezra a warning stare. Ezra’s chuckles followed me as I waved bye and left.

“What do you need?” Slate asked.

“Office equipment. I’ve made a list, and Ezra gave me a one-thousand-dollar budget. That’s far too much, although files are expensive,” I muttered.

“I’ll take you to Silvie’s place. Damn woman goes apeshit in there,” Slate said. “Follow me.”

◆◆◆

I couldn’t believe it when Slate pushed the cart around the officer supply store. I was in heaven, but he had to be bored. Slate kept throwing in stuff that I looked at. I was only picking up the bare minimum.

In the end, he turned to me. “Babe, get whatever cute shit you want. Ezra can afford it. And if he doesn’t like it, then he should do his own filing. Ezra wouldn’t have given you his card if he didn’t expend you to spend. We’ve all seen what the old ladies can buy in this store. I’m sure we keep the fuckin’ thing open,” Slate stated, and a member of staff laughed.

“We get Rage in here at least twice a week,” she said as she moved away.

I gave in to temptation and went nuts and ended up with bags of stuff. I had four large boxes of files for the cabinets and a machine that let me print labels. Slate rolled his eyes, but it was great. The final purchase was an expensive coffee maker. Ezra had a kettle and a jar of coffee. Not acceptable.

“The clients will thank you,” Slate said as I stocked up on tiny, long-life cartons of milk and sugar sachets.

Once I paid and made sure I tucked the receipt away, Slate called for a prospect to take my items to the yard, as Ezra was still there. Slate ordered them to ensure everything was placed carefully or there’d be hell to pay.

He then took me to a store to get coffee, and I bought a variety of different cookies and some candy. Customers would appreciate the treats.

Once done, Slate turned to me. “Finished shopping?” He grinned.

“Definitely!”

“Date time. I’ll follow you to your house, and then we’ll go for a ride,” Slate said.

“On the back of your bike?”

“Yup. Ever been on one?”

“No! This is so exciting. I’ve always wanted to ride behind someone,” I cried.

“Come on then. There’s a nice diner I want to take you to,” Slate replied as he led me to my car.

“A diner?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“Roll with me, babe,” he said and headed for his Harley.

Once home, Slate made me fetch a jacket and put a helmet on my head. He easily straddled the motorbike and, balancing it, showed me how to climb on. I mounted and placed my hands on his waist. Slate yanked me closer so my thighs tucked in behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

Oh shit. This felt deeply intimate.

Slate started the engine, and I jumped a little at the rumbling under my legs and then, with a final check I was holding on tightly, Slate rode out. After five minutes, I relaxed; another five, and I was loving this. It was so damn freeing. I was euphoric when Slate pulled over at a diner that held a load of bikes and cars outside.

As we entered, Slate said hi to some bikers as he led me to a booth in a corner. It was the last free one. Several more men spoke to Slate as we passed, and we slid into the booth.

I noticed several were looking at us curiously.

“Are they friends of yours?”

“Allied clubs, but yeah, we’re loose friends. They are great people. How come you’re not prejudiced?”

“Because I know better than anyone that people can lead you astray and be deceitful. Not everyone who is supposed to be honest, good and trustworthy is,” I replied.

“And you’re running from him? This bad person?”

“I don’t want to talk about him, Slate. He doesn’t have a place at this table or in my life,” I whispered as my hands began to shake.

A large hand settled over mine, and the warmth surprised me.

I looked up into Slate’s eyes.

“One day, you’ll tell me, and I’ll take care of your problem. You can’t run forever,” he murmured.

“But for now, I can.”

“Agreed. What do you fancy?” Slate asked, passing me a menu and showing me a picture of a huge milkshake. I laughed because a brief glance showed me most of the men here had one.

“Is that a staple for bikers?”

“In here it is. It’s a crime not to get one,” Slate replied. And just like that, the subject was changed, and I liked that about Slate. No pressure to spill the beans, just acceptance and calmness. That actually felt great for once.

Slate

He saw the wariness in her eyes when she mentioned bad people hiding behind a front. There was a clue in Jaelynn’s words. Jaelynn had been dating someone who was supposed to be honest and trustworthy, and they hadn’t been. That narrowed down a lot of options.

Slate’s guess that she was hiding from a man who had resources was correct. Hence why Jaelynn needed a cash-in-hand job. She couldn’t be tracked. And she was clearly scared of who she was running from.

His guess was she believed they had power. Sadly, it was quite likely they did. Slate wondered what to do. He faced a real dilemma. He could go behind Jaelynn’s back and get Hawthorne to track her down or wait for Jaelynn to tell him. Slate either risked upsetting her and Jaelynn,fleeing or endangering her because he wasn’t sure what to watch out for. And that one thought put an ice-cold sensation in his gut.

Jaelynn wouldn’t face an unknown risk alone. He wouldn’t allow it. That blinded Slate to what was coming for her.

As he talked and put Jaelynn at ease, he made plans to contact Hawthorne. No fucker would hurt Jaelynn on his watch!