Chapter 3 Ice
I perch on the edge of the VIP booth, anticipation humming through me. After the fiasco on opening night, some of the dancers quit. We need more. Fast. Vapor suggested we hold an audition night but make it sound like a competition to try to recruit new talent. Vapor made sure we put ‘Amateur’ on the sign because he thought girls new to dancing would be less intimidated if they weren’t expected to be perfect. Dangling the five thousand dollar prize for the best dancer was my idea. The huge prize is more like a signing bonus, but the goal was to make sure women showed up. And it worked. At least fifty scantily clad women sit around the club, waiting for their turn to dance. I only need to hire a dozen. It should be easy enough.
The music pounds through the club, but it’s just background noise to me, like a second heartbeat. My eyes sweep over the crowded room, searching faces, cataloging details. The club reeks of spiced rum and desperation. Some of these girls look a little rough around the edges. Life’s hard when you’re broke. Hopefully, I can change a few lives tonight.
“Tits and ass for days.” Diablo grins beside me. “Why can’t you just offer all of them a job?”
“There isn’t enough room for everyone. I don’t want bitchy cat fights in my club. We dealt with enough of that shit at the old clubhouse.”
“You planning on making any of them club girls?”
“Nah. Not mixing business with pleasure.”
“Smart.” Diablo’s dark chuckle is cut short when he takes a long swig of beer.
My gaze shifts towards the stage, and focus becomes razor-sharp. Although we need more women, we don’t want the wrong ones getting into the club. By now, everyone knows Underground Vengeance MC runs this place. That makes it a target, which means I need to be on the hunt for threats. This is a dance I know all too well, so I’m more than ready for it.
The club’s DJ announces the next dancer. The girls aren’t allowed to use stage names until they’re hired, so the DJ uses their real first names. If they get hired, we’ll let them pick a new alias. Chastity, or Vixen, or Candy, whatever ridiculous name they want to use.
“What’s this one’s name? I missed it,” I ask.
“Isabella,” Diablo says, setting down his drink and leaning forward.
The spotlight swings to find the girl on stage, carving out her silhouette from the dimness of the club. She’s strikingly beautiful with long, dark hair cascading down her back and piercing blue eyes that seem to see through all the other women in the audience. She’s enchanting in a way that makes it impossible to look away. Even Diablo’s on the edge of his seat.
The music starts and the woman absolutely commands the space, a siren trying to lure men to their deaths. A beat pulses, and her hips catch the rhythm in a way that snares every eye in the room. I lean forward, my elbows bracing against the cold surface of the table. The charged air ripples with sensuality and sexuality. I was semi-hard earlier, but now I’m a fucking rock.
Confidence radiates from her, a palpable force that reaches me even in the shadows of the VIP booth. Fire blazes in her eyes—a brazen challenge to anyone who dares hold her gaze. It’s captivating, the raw power she wields with a mere glance, and for a moment, I’m caught in it, ensnared by the sheer intensity of her presence.
This is dangerous as fuck. I can’t afford to get turned on by any of the dancers. That would violate my number one rule. But I’m caught up in the deep hum of attraction, unable to tear my gaze from her body. Shit! I can’t afford to be mesmerized. Not here. Not now.
As Isabella dances, I force my mind to shift gears back in a cold, calculating mode once more. My resolve lasts a few seconds before I’m back to being obsessed.
Each sway of her body, each arch of her back, is a message written in a language I’ve learned to read all too well. She owns the stage, every inch of it, her movements both enticing and commanding.
My eyes narrow, dissecting the performance, past the allure and into the strategy. She knows what she’s doing, knows the effect she has on the crowd. The other women whisper among themselves, eyes alight with envy or desire. You know a girl’s hot as fuck when other women want to bang her too.
Isabella’s alluring, yes, but also dangerous. I’ve seen how beauty can be wielded like a weapon, how it can disarm and destroy. And as I watch her, something tells me she’s more than just another dancer vying for attention. She’s playing a deeper game, one that tells me she really needs this job. Why else would her routine be so perfect? She must have practiced it a million times.
I sink back, pulling myself free from the spell she casts. My fingers tap against the tabletop. What’s her story? Why is she here? I want to know more.
“Fuck! I knew something wasn’t right,” Diablo mutters.
I can barely hear him over the bass pulsing through the club. “What?”
“That’s Isabella Vasquez.”
I stiffen, the information hitting me like a freight train. “No fucking way.”
“Yeah, look. Under all the makeup, it’s her.”
Warning bells ring in my head. Isabella is Juan Vasquez’s sister. He’s the leader of Los Serpientes de Cristal, the cartel kingpin who thinks he can claim New Orleans as his own bloody playground. What’s she doing here, dancing on our turf?
“Are you sure?” I keep my voice low, my eyes locked on Isabella as she moves with undulating grace.
“Positive. I’ve seen her picture enough times, brother.” Diablo’s certainty is like a splash of ice water in my face. My gut tightens. Something’s seriously wrong.
My gaze sharpens, dissecting every sway and pivot of her hips. Each step she takes radiates confidence while hiding her true motives. Her family’s rich enough that she doesn’t need money. That’s not why she’s here. It’s got to be something else.
“If she thinks she can slither into our world undetected, she’s sorely mistaken,” I growl.
“What are you going to do?” Diablo asks.
“Not sure yet.”
Even as my mind races through the implications of her presence, I’m drawn to her in a way that defies logic or duty. I should be throwing her off the stage and out of the club, but instead, I want to bend her over a table and fuck her until we’re both satisfied.
Damn it, Ice, focus!
“Don’t let her leave,” I tell Diablo.
“On it,” Diablo grunts, sliding out of the booth to move closer to the edge of the stage. He takes a seat and folds his thick arms across his huge chest. She’ll never make it past him. I’m glad he’s here.
Isabella’s final, fiery spin draws her performance to its climax. When the last thump of bass fades, the club erupts into pandemonium. The applause is deafening—a cacophony of whistles and cheers as she takes her bow, her eyes glinting triumphantly in the spotlight. With a grace that seems at odds with the danger I know she represents, she exits the stage. Diablo grabs her arm and gestures for her to sit beside him.
“Give it up for Isabella!” The DJ’s voice cuts through the noise, his excitement adding fuel to the already-blazing inferno of applause.
The rest of the girls are a blur on stage. I can’t focus on anything but the back of Isabella’s head. I’d give anything to know what’s going through her mind right now. Does she think we’re stupid? Even though I didn’t recognize her immediately, I would have eventually. As soon as she took off all that makeup, I’d know her real identity.
After the final dancer leaves the stage, the DJ takes her place. He holds the microphone close to his lips and announces, “Ladies, thank you for coming to amateur audition night. Please stay for a few minutes so we can let you know if you have a job here or not.”
“What about the money?” one of the girls yells.
“Hold your tits, babe.” The DJ glares for a second before resuming his jovial smile. “Our undisputed winner tonight… is Isabella! Please come onto the stage to accept your prize.”
“Time to make a move,” I murmur, sliding out of the booth.
With long strides, I reach Diablo’s side. He’s so fixated on Isabella that he barely acknowledges my presence. Isabella might’ve won over the crowd, but she hasn’t fooled us.
As the DJ hands Isabella a large manila envelope filled with hundred dollar bills, she flashes a thousand watt smile. It glints with false promise, just one more trick in her attempt to lure us into whatever game she’s playing.
The moment she moves to exit the stage, I nod at Diablo. His massive frame rises beside me like a shadow taking form. We move together, a pair of predators ready to strike.
As Isabella walks down the steps, her piercing blue eyes lock with mine. A storm rises in their depths, wild and untamed. She’s here with ulterior motives, I’m sure of it, and yet I’m drawn to the danger she represents, to the secrets she guards behind her victorious smile.
“Isabella Vasquez,” I say, my voice steady.
She blanches, but her face stays frozen in silent triumph.
“Enjoying your win?” My voice is light, almost casual, but there’s nothing trivial about the undercurrent swirling between us. She knows it. Her eyes narrow just so, reading the subtext, the real conversation happening beneath the surface.
“Victory always has its charms,” she responds, her tone lilting with triumph and something else—a hint of steel.
Her answer is strategic, a sidestep around my probing, but I’m patient. This encounter isn’t just about tonight. It’s about how the future will unfold when the music fades and the cheering stops. I set aside the temptation to launch into a dozen questions and simply reply, “Indeed it does.”
The applause dies down, and the DJ announces that the girls who are chosen tonight will get text messages later to let them know if they got the job or not. I don’t care about any of them, just her. She’s the only woman in the room who matters.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she says, trying to sidestep me.
Diablo blocks her exit attempt.
“Before you go, wouldn’t you like to know if you got the job?” I ask.
“You’re not going to send me a text like the rest of them?” Isabella’s smile doesn’t falter, but her eyes flick from me to Diablo and back. She must realize she’s not going anywhere until I say she is.
“Is that what you want?”
“Not really. I’d like to know. Although I did win, so I just assumed I got the job.” She tips her chin up in defiance. The small gesture sends a stab of desire straight to my groin. There’s nothing hotter than a sassy woman. She’s all that and more. Any idiot could see that.
“Tomorrow night. Six p.m. Don’t be late,” I command, knowing that what she does next will reveal more than any interrogation ever could.
“I’m never late.” A smirk plays across her face as she walks around Diablo and heads toward the exit.
“And maybe don’t mention this to your brother… unless that was your plan all along,” I add.
She stumbles mid-stride, but quickly recovers, continuing her path toward the door. But she can’t hide the tremble in her walk. If her brother sent her, then she’ll have to tell him that we already know. We’ll see what that does to whatever scheme they were trying to orchestrate.
“Want me to get her back?” Diablo asks.
“Nah. I want to see what she does tomorrow. If she shows up or not.”
“You think she’s really going to come back?”
“Five grand isn’t enough to change anything for the cartel. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would her brother want her to work for us? It’s not like we run any of our other businesses out of the club. She won’t learn anything working here.”
“They don’t know that. They might think it’s a front for running drugs.”
“Like we’d be that stupid.”
“Of course not, but they might assume we’re idiots just because we ride bikes.”
“True.” I rub my chin. “Do we know if she’s working for the cartel? Last I heard she wasn’t caught up in the family business.”
“Don’t know. Fang might be able to figure it out. Want me to follow her?”
“Not yet. Not tonight. I don’t want them running scared until we figure out what they’re up to. But let’s see if Vapor wants to call Church. Everyone should know about this. It’s the first time Vasquez has tried to send someone in his immediate family to infiltrate the club. Something stinks.”
“I’ll text Vapor.”
While we wait for a response, I stand rooted to the spot. I may not know why she’s here yet, but I know this for certain—Isabella Vasquez is more than she appears, and I’m going to find out exactly what she’s hiding. My gut churns with a mix of anticipation and dread because, damn it, she’s gotten under my skin. She’s not just hot, but she’s smart too. I saw it in her eyes.
“Ice?” Diablo nudges me. “Vapor says meet him at his place. We’ll hold Church there since the new clubhouse isn’t done yet.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Let’s roll out,” I command, leading the way out of the club, my thoughts already racing ahead to what I’m going to tell Vapor. Just the facts. He doesn’t need to know about what this chick is doing to my dick. I can keep that in check. If she’s just another employee, then it’s hands-off anyway. But I’ve got a bad feeling about her. I don’t think employment is her goal.
My bike roars to life beneath me, a beast ready to tear through the streets of New Orleans. As we ride, I can’t shake off the image of Isabella’s smile, nor the feeling that our encounter has changed everything.
When we arrive at Vapor’s house, a three story Victorian in the Garden District, Blue opens the door. She places a protective hand over her belly, reminding me that there’s more than just the club at stake. She’s carrying Vapor’s kid. If we fuck up this Isabella situation, the fallout could destroy more than just the club, it could destroy this baby too. I’m not going to let that happen.
“You look gorgeous as ever,” I say, hugging her gently.
“I’m not breakable,” she chuckles. “Not yet anyway.”
“How much longer do you have?”
“Three months. I feel like a stuffed sausage already. Getting any bigger than this seems impossible.”
“What did you say about my sausage?” Vapor asks, coming up behind his wife and sliding his hands over hers.
Blue giggles and turns to kiss her man. If it wasn’t so cute it would make me want to vomit. But they’re perfect for each other. He’s one lucky son of a bitch.
“Sweet cheeks, we’ve got some club business to attend to, but after, how about a late night dinner? You can reheat that stew from earlier.”
“Not a chance!” Babet pokes her head out from behind Vapor. She’s like the club’s honorary grandmother. She’s staying with Vapor and Blue while the new clubhouse is under construction. Eventually, she’s supposed to move to it, but I have a suspicion she’s going to stay with Vapor and Blue to help take care of the baby. “I’ll whip something up from scratch.”
“I’ll help,” Blue says.
“No. No. You need to drink the tea I brewed. It will help with the swelling in your feet.”
“Yes, mom,” Blue says, grinning.
“We’ll be in the kitchen,” Babet calls as she guides Blue away from Vapor.
“The other guys should be here—” The sound of rumbling bikes cuts him off. “—now.”
Fang, Bones and Tank join us.
“We can use my office for Church,” Vapor says.
The wood-paneled room is as silent as a tomb. Vapor had it sound-proofed right after they moved in so he could conduct club business without worrying about anyone listening.
We drag various chairs around the room into a circle. Vapor grabs his gavel off the desk and slams it, signifying the start of Church.
“Bring me up to speed on this Vasquez situation,” he says.
“We held the amateur competition at the club earlier tonight,” I say, glancing at each man to make sure I’ve got their attention. I do. “Isabella Vasquez showed up.”
Fang frowns and types away at his laptop. “This is the most recent photo we’ve got of her. She’s rarely seen in public.”
“Looks way hotter in person,” Diablo says.
Vapor tilts his head slightly and slides his gaze to me, checking my reaction. I don’t flinch a single muscle. There’s no way I’m going to let them know what a mere photo of the woman is doing to my dick. They don’t need to know because it doesn’t matter. I’m not fucking the enemy.
“How did it all go down?” Bones asks.
After I describe the night, leaving out the whole my-dick’s-as-hard-as-stone part, I tell them my plan. “She’s supposed to come work for me tomorrow night at the club. I think we should let her. See if we can figure out why she’s there.”
“You could just ask her,” Fang says.
“If a Vasquez’s lips are moving, they’re lying,” Tank says.
“He’s right,” Vapor says. “We can’t believe anything she says. Do we really want her at the club when we don’t know why she’s there?”
“If we kick her out right away, we’ll never know. Isn’t it better to bring your enemies closer to find out what they’re up to?” I ask.
“That’s a possible option,” Diablo says.
“You have another idea?” Vapor shifts his gaze to him.
“Take her to our warehouse. Interrogate her until she breaks.”
“That’s the way we’d usually do it,” Bones says, agreeing with him. “Are we avoiding that because she’s a chick?”
“Or because she’s a hot piece of ass?” Tank asks.
“Don’t let Vicki hear you say that.” Fang snorts.
“That’s not it at all,” I protest. “I just think we should tread carefully. This is the first time we’ve had direct contact with anyone in the immediate family. Don’t you want to know why she wants a job as a stripper, of all things?”
“Yeah, why not a bartender at one of our bars?” Bones asks.
“Or try to become a club girl like that FBI agent chick did in the Montana chapter,” Tank says.
“Not sure,” I admit.
“I’m with Ice,” Vapor says slowly. “He’s right about keeping her close. At least until we find out what she’s after.”
“Just not too close,” Diablo says, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Think you can handle that?” Vapor skewers me with a look.
“Yeah. No pussy’s worth it if it means the club gets fucked too.”
“True that.” Bones grins.
“So, we’re in agreement. Proceed cautiously and keep your dick in your pants,” Vapor says.
“I can do that,” I say, trying to convince him as much as I’m trying to convince myself. Normally, I don’t have a problem keeping my dick in check, but now it seems to have a mind of its own. At least where Isabella is concerned. Stupid dick!
“Anything else we got to cover?” Vapor asks.
A chorus of “no’s” later, he adjourns Church.
Walking into the kitchen, all I can think about is Isabella. You don’t see a body like that often. That’s got to be why I’m so fucked up over her. Maybe I need to get laid. Soon. Too bad all the club sluts are gone and the clubhouse isn’t ready yet. The sooner we get more chicks lined up, the better. That’s the only way I’m going to be able to keep my hands off the enemy. I have to keep thinking of her that way, because that’s all we’ll ever be.