Chapter 1 Chaos
Chaos
Present Day
I love a girl willing to take her clothes off.
There’s nothing more beautiful than tits in my face and a naked body riding my lap.
It’s times like this I wonder why I give a fuck about the need for professional boundaries between me and the girls who work at the strip club. Even the ones simply auditioning, like Tiffany is right now.
Her long red nails rake down my legs while she slowly grinds her ass over my hard cock. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I’d like to grab her platinum blonde hair, shove her face down on the stage, and fuck her.
But I won’t.
I don’t fuck the girls who work for me—or will work for me. Not because I give a shit about how it might look to everyone else, but because it’s always too much drama. Learned that lesson once.
Actually, I learned that lesson a few times before it sank in. But still, I figured it out eventually.
Tiffany spins around, shoving her firm tits in my face, and I’m a blessed man. God could smite me right now for the things I’ve done, and it would be worth it to die like this. Even if it’s borderline torture, considering there’s no relief at the end of it.
When I get back to the clubhouse, I’m going to need to shove my cock down a patch bunny’s throat to take the edge off. Not that anything seems to do the trick lately. I’ve been chasing one high after another since I got out of prison, but nothing works.
Nothing fills this empty pit widening inside me.
“That’s enough.” I clear my throat, putting an end to Tiffany’s audition before I break one of my rules.
Her smile widens when she climbs off my lap and notices me adjusting myself. It’s a compliment, really. She’s good at what she does, and she should be proud of the fact that she’s able to get me this riled up. Working here, I’ve done and seen it all.
Every girl who dances at Sapphire Rise is hot, but they all start to blend together at a certain point. I’ve seen so many tits in my life, I’m practically desensitized.
Sure, they look nice bouncing around when a girl rides my cock. But past that, I don’t give a shit who they belong to.
If that makes me an asshole, so be it. I’m not looking for attachments. The last thing I need is some girl getting jealous over my job or the time I spend with my club, no matter how sweet or pretty she is. Relationships cause nothing but problems, and I don’t have time for them.
Still, a man can appreciate a girl with skills like Tiffany’s. An innocent face and a downright sinful body. My cock was hard before she even touched me, which means she’ll do well at Sapphire Rise.
I stand up, shaking off thoughts of how good she would look on her knees with her lipstick painting a circle around the base of my cock. “You’re hired.”
“Really?” Her smile brightens her whole face.
“Yeah, Kansas will get you on the schedule.”
Kansas, the strip club’s manager, stands up and hands Tiffany the clothes she discarded during her dance.
Her eyes widen for a second because he’s a burly guy with a thick beard and a scar that cuts through his eyebrow from breaking up a fight at the club last year.
But she’ll quickly realize he’s nothing but sweet with the girls who work here. And when he smiles, her face softens.
Kansas has worked at Sapphire Rise for over a decade now, and he’s one of the few people who isn’t patched in that the Twisted Kings trust with one of our businesses. He’s devoted to the club even though he isn’t a member, and he has our respect.
“Let’s go to my office and get you sorted,” Kansas says to Tiffany, waving out a hand and leading the way.
Her smile widens, and it draws out the light in her eyes. She’s new to Las Vegas and excited about it. Live here long enough and that excitement dims.
To tourists, this city is all booze, strippers, and parties. That’s what drew me in when I left Texas. In the years since, I’ve learned that one hit of a good thing is a hell of a rush. But it takes more and more to stay satisfied the longer you’re surrounded by it.
Lately, the perks that once drew me to this city do nothing but put me on edge.
Tiffany disappears with Kansas, and I circle around to my office to grab my laptop.
It’s still early, so the crowd is thin, but girls dance on every stage.
We operate like it’s a Saturday night every night.
And even in the middle of the day, we only allow the best on our stages.
I don’t care if someone is here at ten in the morning for a lap dance.
They’ll get the same experience as a high roller on a Friday night.
We have our reputation for a reason, and it’s my job to maintain it.
Amber is on the main stage, twisting herself around the pole.
The girl is fucking flexible. She does the splits midair, and she’s showered in money.
My brothers give me shit for being so damn picky with the strippers I allow to work here, but sex sells, and it takes more than a pretty face to be successful.
There’s a fantasy to uphold. Vegas is crawling with beautiful women, but in our club, they need to be charismatic.
They need to be the dream.
They need to be happy.
Like Amber, hanging upside down, bent like a damn pretzel. Smiling her way through, like dancing is the best job in the world. It’s my job to make sure the girls who work here continue to feel that way.
The music quiets as I reach my office and grab my computer. Costumes and broken furniture are stacked all over the place. This room is becoming more of a storage closet than a workspace lately because it’s too quiet to get any work done in here. I can’t think in the silence.
Grabbing my laptop, I head back to the bar and take a seat.
“What can I get ya, boss?” Brandy stops on the other side, smiling.
Her red hair is pulled back in a ponytail tonight, showing off her eyes.
They’re even lighter with her dark eyeliner.
Brandy has worked for me for five years now, and although I know how her lips feel wrapped around my cock, we’re just friends now.
I honestly can’t imagine how we ever fucked because it’s not like that between us anymore.
“Whiskey.”
Brandy nods, turning to grab a bottle of my favorite off the top shelf.
I open my laptop, ready to be drowned in things I need to take care of.
When I moved to Vegas and joined a motorcycle club, I underestimated how much actual work it would be. Sure, auditioning strippers is a good fucking time. But the number of emails staring at me when I’d rather go get a blow job is exhausting.
“That new girl is good.” Brandy slides my drink across the bar, tapping her long striped nails on the glass before letting it go. “She’s got the whole fallen-angel thing going on.”
I follow Brandy’s gaze to where Tiffany is still talking to Kansas at the end of the hallway. He’s in the middle of giving her a tour.
“Yeah, the girl knows her shit. Didn’t know they had that kind of talent in Kentucky.”
“Is that where she’s from?”
I nod.
“You gonna break your rule for her, boss?” Brandy shoots me a wink. “I saw you looking at her the second she walked in. She’s got that quality you like.”
“What quality?”
“Tits and ass.”
“Very funny.” I shake my head, hating that she’s right, because that’s where my standards end.
So long as a girl is warm, willing, and not looking for more than one night together, I’m down.
“She got your attention.” Brandy leans over the bar, smirking.
“Yeah, and that’s how she got the job. But I’m not touching her.”
It feels like a lie because why do I care anymore? I’ve learned how fast things can change. Any day, I could be back in a cage, facing a possible life sentence. Or worse, I could be six feet under.
Being the road captain for the Twisted Kings comes with its risks.
Why do I care if I fuck a stripper? I should live my life while I’ve still got one.
Instead, I hold this line like it’s the last ounce of control I’m clinging to when everything else is way too fragile lately.
I shake my head, breaking my stare on Tiffany. “You know my rules. Not going there.”
“Whatever you say.” Brandy winks, leaving me to serve a few customers at the other end of the bar.
I scroll through my emails, stopping on the one from my brother’s lawyer.
Ever since Grandpa died last year without a will, Kincaid and I have been fighting over the fate of the family ranch.
Kincaid’s attorney threatened to use my stint in prison against me with the judge, but Monroe quickly shut that down.
This legal battle is never-ending.
I’d let it go if my brother planned to use the land as Grandpa intended.
But that’s not the case. My stepdad got it in Kincaid’s head that they could make more money selling mineral rights and mining the land for every last cent.
Now Kincaid is too busy placating his father to fight for Grandpa’s wishes.
So now, it’s up to me.
The problem is, I’m here, and Kincaid is there. He has the advantage of battling this out in person. If I could take a trip to Texas, I might have a better chance at sorting this out. But leaving isn’t an option when the club is in hot water at the moment. The Twisted Kings need me.
A few months ago, we took down our rivals, the Iron Sinners.
Ever since then, tensions have been high with Rick Zane, the asshole who owns half of Vegas.
He’s been putting pressure on our businesses on the Strip, using his influence to slowly shove us out.
The Iron Sinners were his puppets, doing his dirty work and running a sex-trafficking ring for him.
So now that we eliminated them, he’s doing everything he can to hit us where it hurts.
Starting with attacking our most lucrative businesses, like Sapphire Rise.
Between trouble from Rick Zane and the Feds still looking into the explosion that lit up the Iron Sinners compound, we’re walking on eggshells.
“I thought you were leaving town.” Aimee, Havoc’s old lady, slides onto a barstool next to mine.