Chapter 2
TWO
Buse, Nevada
Ox
We walked into the bar like we owned the place. Because we did. Not just by the deed that had my Brother Saw’s name on it, but with the ability to back that shit up with both manpower and sheer brute force.
The bartender, a sexy brunette by the name of Sam, gave me a head nod and began preparing rounds of drinks for German, Hammer, Pipe, and myself when she saw us approaching.
Lining the drinks up in front of me, she asked, “You the bouncer on duty tonight, big guy?”
Sam and I had hooked up on more than a few occasions. I liked her wit, no-nonsense attitude, and her thick thighs. I’m not going to lie. I’m a big guy and I need a woman with some meat on her bones. The last thing I need is a twig in bed that snaps the moment I place my hands on her.
“I’m not working tonight,” I told Sam as she uncapped the last beer and handed it to me directly. Slugging half of it down in one swig, I watched out of the corner of my eye as she quickly fetched another.
“You must have eaten your poor mother out of house and home when you were a kid,” Sam said, shaking her head as she watched me kill the remainder of the bottle.
I laughed. “You can say that. I think my father had worked extra shifts at the factory just to afford our grocery bill each week.”
I handed German his beer as he approached. His all-seeing eyes scanned the room as he took in the crowd. It was a rough one for a Tuesday night. But it was a titty bar, so it wasn’t like we were going to get a church crowd any day of the week.
Hammer and Pipe joined us then and I slid them both their beers across the bartop. While I’d love to watch the girls shake their asses and shoot the shit with Sam, we had business to attend to. Saw wanted to talk about expanding the Happy Ending, and we were trying to figure out if it was smarter to close this location down while we renovated or simply sell the place outright and buy another, bigger operation we could continue to run without interruption.
My Brother Saw was up front in a private booth, talking to one of the new dancers. As we joined him, the platinum blonde with boobs that weighed more than she did, asked, “Is anyone in the mood for a lap dance?”
Saw handed the girl an empty beer bottle and said, “Not right now, Mindy. We got Club business going on tonight.”
Pouting with disappointment, Mindy took the bottle and trotted off toward greener, and more lucrative, pastures. Before I could take a seat, German and I spotted a guy getting a little handsy with one of the girls on stage. I paused to see if the motherfucker needed a correction. When he grabbed at her a second time, I realized he needed what I liked to call an “etiquette lesson”.
“You got this?” German posed, when he saw my eyes narrow to heated slits.
Cracking my neck, I nodded. It had been far too long since I’d gotten my hands dirty. It seemed like tonight was the perfect time to make the world a better place one asshole at a time.
Cutting my way through the crowd, I sauntered over to the douchebag in the powder-blue golf shirt. As soon as I appeared, he looked up. He might be drunk, but the loser wasn’t completely blasted and didn’t have a death wish. Seeing me there, blocking out the artificial light, made him blanch to the color of cauliflower.
“Were you raised by wolves?” I demanded, hovering over his much smaller frame so he could get the full force of my presence.
“Wh…what?” the man stuttered, his inebriated brain struggling to understand what I was saying.
“I said, were you raised by fucking wolves, asshole?” I repeated, my voice a rich, low baritone that worked its way through the room like an apex predator’s growl does the heart of the jungle.
“No,” he answered, nervously rubbing the palms of his sweaty hands on the legs of his wrinkled khakis.
I leaned in an inch closer. “Then keep your mother-fucking hands to yourself, fuck face,” I barked out, my eyes, and my dominant body language, leaving nothing to the imagination.
The man’s mouth gaped open like a ventriloquist dummy’s. “She’s just a stripper, man. She don’t care if I touch her.” He doubled down on dumb then. “Shit, she’s lucky I touched her skank ass at all, let alone paid for her terrible performance!”
“What the fuck did you just say?” I demanded, the muscles in my neck bulging as I fought the urge to pummel him to death right here and now in front of the entire crowd of people.
The man reared back, but the booze made him think he was in the right, even when he was clearly in the wrong. “Come on, man. She’s just a whore. Who cares?”
You know how they say ‘big men move lightly’? Well, it’s true. I was as big as they come, and I moved both lightly, and fast. The tiny prick of a man didn’t see me coming until it was too late. I punched him in his fool nose and it exploded like a shaken soda can all over his stupid, preppy shirt. It was only a love tap. I could have fucking hammered his ass if I’d been so inclined. But he was a bleeder, and to the untrained eye, it looked like he’d just survived a landmine explosion.
Cupping his nose, the man whined, “What the fuck did you do that for?”
“To remind you that men don’t mess with women, unless they’re willing to mess with stronger men afterward,” I replied with a smile.
Hauling the loser to his feet, I began to march him over to the front door. The bouncer on duty, Tony, met me halfway there.
As we passed the bar, Sam tossed me the man’s credit card which was up front running an open tab. Reading his name aloud, I said, “Kevin Cranston. Well, Mr. Cranston, if you ever come back to this bar again, or think to run like a little bitch to the cops about that nosebleed you spontaneously developed tonight,” I added, “my Brothers and I will be stopping by your house for an important visit. You understand?”
Terror shining in his dilated pupils, Kevin mumbled a quick, “Yes, sir,” his voice nasally from all that broken cartilage.
Tossing his useless ass at Tony, the man tripped and fell gracelessly to his knees. Grabbing him by the scruff like a newborn kitten, the beefy bouncer dragged him toward the door and tossed him onto the sidewalk like the stinking trash on a Tuesday morning.
When I turned around, Kitty, the dancer on stage, called over her shoulder, “Thanks, Ox! I get off at three if you want to take me home later on.”
It was a tempting offer, as I’d fucked Kitty before. She did this thing with her tongue to my dick that made me come like a cannon and was every bit as playful as her name implied. But like I’d told Sam earlier, I had to work tonight, so fun of that nature was off the table. But I’d willingly cash that chip in at a later date and time for sure.
“Rain check,” I called out, as I retraced my steps back to the table my Brothers were sitting at.
Just as I took a seat, German was ending a call on his phone. “That was Maddy,” he explained, looking pissed off.
“She okay?” I asked, clocking his obvious concern.
German was a fierce bastard. One of the toughest guys I knew. And that was saying something, as I knew nothing but tough bastards. If someone was messing with his girl, he wouldn’t just break his nose. He’d break his motherfucking neck. And if he wanted company on his mission, I’d be right there beside him to help drop the body and dig the hole afterwards.
He nodded. “She’s okay, but her friend Kayla isn’t. Remember that chick who was being harassed by Ghost this fall?”
I did. “That Watchmen prick still bothering her?”
“He’s escalating. Seems he stopped by her waitressing job and pretty much told her she can’t say no to going out with him. Then, while she was driving home later tonight, he played chicken on the road with her and a few other cars to prove he’s a fucking lunatic and can’t be scared off.”
I just didn’t get it. If a chick’s not into you, why pursue her? There’s always other fish in the sea, right? However, some guys, like Ghost, couldn’t take their fragile fucking egos getting hurt. Well, I was about to test the man’s ego, as well as his ability to take pain, in more ways than one.
“You need me to take a ride down to Cali?” I offered, loving the idea of a long ride and delivering a well deserved ass beating all wrapped into one beautiful package.
“As long as Reaper’s down with it,” my Brother answered. “I’ll call him now and see what he says.”
When Prez didn’t answer his phone, we began our meeting about the new strip club. As we were wrapping up, Reaper rang us back. German filled the man in on what was going on with Ghost.
“All right,” German agreed, after listening to what Prez had to say, “I’ll call you if anything else comes up.”
“What’s the word?” I asked my Brother, draining the last of my beer before we headed out for the night.
German smiled darkly. “Reaper said the time for talking is done. Time to show the Watchmen we don’t give a directive more than once.”
That statement was music to my ears. “Have your girl tell her friend I’ll be there by dinner tomorrow.”