Page 15 of Whips and Chains (Saint View Murder Squad #2)

LEVI

I was early to Psychos, getting there well before the doors opened, and only let in because Vincent, guarding the door, recognized me.

I found Bliss and Nash and War inside, along with a bunch of their staff members, all getting the club ready for the party that night. War looked up and waved me over.

He dragged a heavy leather bench along the floor, and I immediately picked up the other end without being asked.

He nodded at me gratefully, guiding us through the club to the new spot where the bench was to be placed. “Thanks. These are heavy fucking things. You’re early.”

I nodded, setting the bench down where he indicated with a nod. “Yeah, sorry.”

War studied the bench placement then nudged it with his knee into a slightly different spot. “We never mind when friends get here early. Just means we have extra hands to help set up. So if you didn’t want to help, you might want to run straight outta here before Bliss sees you—”

“Too late! Bliss has already seen you and has a to-do list a mile long.” She grinned at me from behind an armful of boxes. “Hi, Levi.”

I plucked a box from her arms, lightening her load. “I just came down to talk to Violet, but I’m happy to help.”

“She’s on second shift, because she’ll be cleaning afterward. So she’s starting a bit later.”

My shoulders fell. “I didn’t realize that.”

Bliss smiled sympathetically at me. “You don’t really have to stick around if you want to come back when she’s on shift. We don’t actually make all our friends volunteer here.”

But I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m happy to help. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Bliss jerked her head toward the hallway that led down to the private rooms Violet and I had cleaned the other day.

“We just had a huge delivery come in this afternoon. We got the boxes back to the storeroom, but we desperately need to unpack them because we need a lot of the stuff to stock the private rooms for tonight. The front doors open soon, but we can’t open the private rooms until we restock them.

They all need condoms, lube, new toys. I know it’s really unsexy, but there is actually a checklist on the back of the storeroom door that will tell you what needs to go where. ”

I put my box down on the bar top for her so it was easy for her to unpack. “Sounds easy enough. I’ll get on it.”

She blew me a kiss and disappeared beneath the countertop, presumably putting drinks in fridges or maybe ice buckets.

I didn’t concern myself with what sort of cooling system they had, my brain was too full of everything I needed to talk to Violet about tonight. The fact she wasn’t here yet was probably a good thing. It gave me more time to calm my stupid nerves and think about what I was actually going to say.

Trying to talk to her outside Clean Sweep this afternoon hadn’t gone well at all. I had doubts that trying to talk to her during a different shift was going to go any better, but what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just sit around at the clubhouse, waiting for her to forgive me.

I wanted her.

I wasn’t going to get her by sitting around at home, whining about how she was the one who got away like some of the older guys liked to do. They were full of heartbreak stories now that they were too old to be fucking around with the club women.

I didn’t want to be a sixty-year-old biker with nothing to his name but the fucking Harley he rode. I loved my brothers at the club, and hell, I even loved my bike, but I loved Violet a hell of a lot more than either of them.

And the fact she didn’t know that was killing me.

Everything I’d done was because I loved her so damn much.

And because I knew I didn’t deserve her.

But God, I fucking wanted to. And I would do whatever it took for her to see that.

I easily found the storeroom Bliss had mentioned, right at the very end of the hallway, and clearly marked as staff only. I ignored the sign and turned the doorknob.

On the other side, the room was fully lit up with ugly fluorescent overhead lights that had none of the vibe the club had. I blinked in the brightness, and then again at the man standing on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Whip. And then squinted at his hand. “And what are you holding?”

Whip held up the combination of leather and latex. “I think it’s a ball gag with a dildo attachment? Not entirely sure. Which is a bit of a shock because I thought I’d seen it all.”

We both cocked our heads, staring at it.

I agreed his assumption did seem to be correct. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here though. Are you working with one of your clients?”

“No. I came to see Violet.”

My mouth flattened into a line. “Same. And she’s not here so Bliss put you to work?”

He put the ball gag/dildo contraption back on a shelf. “You too?”

I nodded.

He shrugged. “We’re going to need to unpack all these boxes before we can distribute them anywhere. Seems like they were really low on stock until this stuff came in.”

I shrugged out of my jacket, dropping it onto an empty shelf.

I turned around, only to catch Whip’s gaze wandering all over my chest, clad in a tight white T-shirt that clung to my pecs and abs, with sleeves that curved with my biceps.

I didn’t miss the flush of heat his gaze sent through my body.

Fuck. Why did he have to look at me like that? Or more to the point, why did he have to look the way he did in a suit? He was always in those fucking things, all damn fancy and completely out of place in a town like Saint View.

I ripped open a box that turned out to be full of smaller boxes of condoms, and started stacking them on the shelf.

Whip did the same a few feet away, his box full of floggers. I’d already seen the room those went in. I guessed the club let patrons take home the toys they used. Which I could appreciate because some things shouldn’t be shared, no matter how often they were cleaned.

I picked up a box of strawberry-flavored condoms and shook them in Whip’s direction. “You reckon these actually taste like strawberry?”

Whip raised an eyebrow.

Instantly, I realized I’d brought up him giving head without even thinking about it. Heat flamed up the back of my neck, and I turned away quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Whip snorted on a laugh. “Didn’t mean to ask if I suck dick?”

Ah, fucking hell. I’d just made this so awkward. I didn’t know what I’d meant. Or why I’d said it. And I’d thought it was X with no brain-to-mouth filter. But apparently I was just as bad.

At least when it came to Whip.

I had no idea why he had me so fucking rattled. One minute I hated his guts. Then next we were watching each other fuck. And now I was asking him about what condoms tasted like when they were wrapped around another man’s cock?

When I ripped open the next box and found it was filled with bottles of bourbon, I didn’t think twice about opening one up and taking a long swallow of the dark-brown liquid inside.

I could feel Whip’s gaze on me, and I held the bottle out in his direction without looking at him.

He took it, his fingers brushing mine, electricity zapping between what I was sure as fuck putting down to the static in the room. Even though it felt identical to the pulse of something unnameable that happened when I touched Violet too.

“Should probably move this box back up to the bar. Guessing it’s not meant to be back here,” I mumbled uselessly, because I made zero move to actually pick it up and take it where it belonged.

Whip eyed me as he took a swig from the bottle. “They don’t taste like strawberry.”

I lifted my gaze to meet his.

His eyes held a challenge. “And yeah, I know that because I’ve sucked off guys wearing them.”

Images of Whip down on his knees, his fingers wrapped around a cock, taking it into his mouth while someone held the back of his head, encouraging him to take it deep, had my dick stirring behind my pants.

Because it wasn’t just some random guy he was sucking off in my head.

It was me.

I needed another fucking drink.

And he knew it. He had a smug fucking grin on his stupidly attractive face, the bottle of bourbon dangling from a loose, two-finger grip.

I took the bottle, needing the deep swallow of alcohol. I wasn’t fucking doing this with him. This stupid flirting thing. We weren’t friends. We’d gone through a thing together in finding Violet and then giving her what she needed afterward.

But we weren’t bonding. I didn’t need any more friends.

I just needed Violet to forgive me, and that had to be my sole focus.

I went back to shoving boxes of condoms onto the shelf, but it had been years since I’d drunk hard alcohol. And the half a dozen pulls I’d taken on the bottle were already warming through my body and loosening my lips. “You been here before?”

Whip glanced over at me. “In the closet with a straight man?” He snorted on a laugh. “Yeah, been here, done that.”

I scowled at him. “I meant have you been to this club before?” But before he could answer, I shrugged. “Stupid question. You probably come here all the time, considering the line of work you’re in.”

He glanced over at me. “What is it, exactly, you think I do?”

I shrugged. “Fuck strangers for money.”

It came out harsher and more judgmental than I’d really meant it to.

He stopped what he was doing, his hands resting on the edge of a shelf. “So you just think I’m some sort of cheap hooker?”

“Aren’t you?”

His grip tightened around the metal, and he shook his head. “You’re a prick, you know that?”

I dropped a pile of condoms back into the box. “What? You are? Why act like you’re not?”

An awkward silence filled the room, and he turned to face off with me.

“I’m not acting like I’m not. Yeah, I’m a sex worker.

I’ll happily own that all day, every day, and sleep just fine at night.

Because at least I’m not standing over there, casting holier-than-thou judgments.

Which is pretty fucking rich coming from a man who spent the last six years in prison, has no job, and is living in a glorified version of a frat house. ”

I rolled my eyes, playing down the fact I knew every word was true. “Oh, fuck you. You don’t know shit about me, Whip.”

“And yet you think you know me? You don’t.” He swore under his breath.

Irritation had me clenching my fingers into fists. No small part of it based on jealousy over the way Violet had taken him straight into her bed, needing him to comfort her before she’d even looked at me.

It was him she’d had first. Him who’d been her safe place.

She’d let me and X fuck her, but only after she’d had Whip. She’d only come to us to numb herself.

And that was the thing I couldn’t let go. That jealousy that he had something with her I didn’t.

“Tell me something real then,” I challenged.

“You want to fling accusations at me. Make out like I’m the shallow one.

You ever think that maybe all I know about you is that you sleep around because you’re so closed off that’s all you give people to form an opinion on?

I don’t know a single thing about you, Whip, other than you like to fuck around and that taking a life doesn’t bother you. Not a single other fucking thing.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “What do you want to know?” He threw his hands up in the air.

“You want me to open up my diary and read you the last twenty years’ worth of entries?

You want me to tell you I like baseball, and I run most mornings, and I drink red wine every time I put on a suit because it’s part of this whole fucking schtick?

But what I’d always prefer to drink is the cheap bourbon in that bottle you’re chugging down like its water because I make you uncomfortable? ”

The bourbon sloshed in my hand, and I realized he was right. Between the two of us, we’d polished off half of it in a very short space of time.

I didn’t know about him, but I was feeling it.

So it was easy to blame the alcohol when I glared at him and said, “Tell me about the woman and kids in the photo.”

He froze.

I instantly knew I’d gone too far.

I’d only been to his place once, and the photo on his bookshelf was clearly one he hadn’t wanted me to see. He’d snatched it up from under my nose and hidden it away so fast I’d barely caught a glimpse of it.

But it had been stuck in my mind ever since.

Whip. A woman. And two little kids, all grinning at the camera on a sunny summer day, a big white house in the background.

Pain flashed behind his eyes. Not the fleeting, surface kind that came from a minor inconvenience.

But the deep-rooted kind of agony that destroyed a man, one cell at a time, until his entire body was engulfed in flame and there was nobody around to help put it out.

The shock wore off, and Whip moved in so fast I stumbled back against the shelves to avoid a full-on collision with his face.

But he just kept coming, until we were chest to chest, eye to eye.

His warm breath coasted over my lips, just barely an inch from mine.

It would have been so fucking easy to close that gap. To put my lips on his and kiss him.

And for the tiniest of heartbeats, I held my breath, every nerve ending in my body coming to life and wanting him to do it.

But his mouth twisted in a cruel line. And his words came out harsh.

“Don’t ever fucking ask me about that photo again.

Forget you ever saw it, forget you know anything about it.

” His angry gaze flickered all over my face.

“They might call you Reaper, but if you so much as mention that photo again, it’ll be me sending your soul to fucking Hades. You hear me?”

He shoved off me before I could even answer and stormed out of the room.

I blinked at the door slamming behind him.

And then did the stupidest thing I could have possibly imagined.

I went after him.