Chapter 12
BELL
The problem with it being this close to Christmas is that the streets of Greater Sydney are jam-packed with last-minute gift shoppers, who are also consuming the ride-shares.
It took me forty-five minutes to get a car, and I was worried it would rock up right when Kit and his men arrived back at the house.
They went on an intel mission or something. But their absence gave me time to doll myself up and get my head in the zone while I reached out to some of my contacts to help me better pinpoint Snake’s location.
Dion Abraham has been the leader of the Serpents for over five years. He got to the top by shooting his predecessor in the back of the head because he didn’t like the way things were being run.
That alone explains this guy’s mentality, and the fact he has Libi, who must be so fucking terrified right now, means we are walking a fine line. He could snap and hurt or kill Libi at any time. That’s why I have to do this. For Libi. For Kit and Tillie. And for Snake’s next innocent victim.
I usually spend weeks doing recon on a target. Learning their habits and routines. But there’s no time for that now. I need to infiltrate this Serpent gang, get close to their leader, and get to Libi.
As my ride slows in traffic, I lift my tits in my dress, so my nipples are nearly falling out. I don’t have a bra on. In my experience, the outline of an erect nipple is hard for a man to dismiss, and I need whatever men I come across on this mission to go all gah-gah and think with their dicks.
Honestly, I feel a little sorry for them. They won’t even see me coming.
The waterfront comes into view, people walking the streets in groups, laughing with friends or work colleagues as pink paints the sky.
Just like Melbourne, there are a lot of Christmas parties happening, some people already staggering, wearing off-centre Christmas party hats and tinsel leis.
I get dropped off along the main stretch, going into the first bar I see. It’s already bustling with all the pre-Christmas celebrations, so I move to the bar and order myself a mocktail, sipping on it as I assess the crowd for what sort of girl I need to be in here.
I can’t just be myself. Bell Bishop typically scares people away. But I’ve learned how to act in these situations, taking on a role to get close to people.
There are a lot of bubbly princesses in here, comparing their Christmas nails as they dance by their tables, not yet drunk enough to veer out onto the dance floor.
The men in here are all predictable. They eye anything with a set of tits. Thankfully, the air-con in here is up high, and my nipples are on high beam, making my piercings even more noticeable.
Spotting some guys with a Serpent tattoo weaving up their arms, I lift my mocktail and slip off the stool, dancing as I walk past, doing a fake little stagger before falling into one of the thugs.
“Ooopsss. Ssorrry.” I giggle like an idiot, and the three guys who were ogling a couple of blondes at the next table turn their attention to me.
“It’s okay, babe. You can run into me anytime.” The curly haired dude I ran into beams, and I giggle again like he’s the funniest fucker in the world. Meanwhile, I want to gag at how untrue that is.
“Ohh, you’re cute.” I pout as I press myself against him, resting my hand on his chest.
“So are you,” he coos. “You looking for a good time?”
Jesus. He sounds like a hooker.
“Always. Are you it?” I ask too eagerly, and he nods.
“Fuck yeah.”
“Max, we don’t have time, man. We gotta head over to the local. Snake wants everyone there tonight.”
Dammit. The local. That means a pub, but not which one.
On the bright side, I stumbled across these guys so easily. I just gotta get them to take me with them. Let them lead me straight to their leader.
“Oh, I wanna see your snake.” I beam up at the curly haired fucker, and he does a little thrust against me that nearly has me gagging again.
“You want my meat, babe?”
Ugh. Extreme gag!
“Yeah. And your friends. Do you like to share?” I flutter my lashes while eyeing all of them, and just like that, they are putty in my hands.
“Fuck, man. Bring her with us. She’ll fit right in.” The guy who looks like he spends all of his money on crack shoots me a wink while cupping his junk, and I have to fight the urge to throat punch him.
“One look at her and the guys will want to run a train on her.” The other guy points out, but he doesn’t sound like he’s protesting.
No, this fucker thinks it’s a good idea.
I mean, I don’t mind a train as long as there’s pain and humiliation, but from men I fucking choose to treat me like that.
These guys, who barely seem legal, are not the kinds of guys I’d put my trust in.
“I’ll spread my legs for a train if you three line up first.”
That’s it. That’s all I need to say before they are snatching the drink from my hand and leading me out of the bar.
I’m not concerned about their intentions, because I already know them.
They have no idea who they are walking up the street with. No idea who they are taking into their local. And no idea how there’s a very big chance they won’t make it to tomorrow alive.
We walk a few blocks, and I endure a groped arse and tit, and even Curly slipping his hand down the front of my dress to play with my nipple piercing, something that the three of them get way too excited about.
When we finally reach the local, which is the Prince Hotel, there is a thick crowd, so once we get inside and past the bouncers, I easily lose the three douches when we step into the thick of the crowd.
I wander the pub, finding the best vantage point on a staircase to look out over the main room, spotting the thickened crowd of Serpents gathered.
That’s most likely where their leader is.
My phone vibrates in my small bag, so I check the screen to see numerous messages from the sender named Pussy.
Maybe I should change it to Throat Fucker?
Hmmm. Maybe later.
I open the tread, only reading the last one.
Where the fuck are you, Bell?! Tell me you’re safe!
My heart sinks.
I didn’t consider that he might be concerned for my safety. Now I kinda feel like a dick, but as the crowd parts, and I recognise the man from the profile my contact sent me about Dion Abraham, aka Snake, my worry falls away.
I found him. I’m going to get Libi back.
Glancing back down at my phone, I quickly tap out a text to Kit.
I’m as safe as a girl like me can be in a club full of gangsters.
I hit send, and before I’ve even slipped my phone back into my bag, Kit is calling me.
I ignore it and head back down the stairs to weave through the thick crowd.
The music in here isn’t really my thing, but I guess that’s because a bunch of gang members and their chicks are here, rapping away with the lyrics while I have no clue what the hell they are singing.
I quickly see it’s not going to be that easy to get into the inner circle of the gang, so I situate myself right at the walkway where they all seem to be coming in and out of a VIP area, and I lift my arms over my head and start dancing.
I’m better at dancing with someone. Grinding against them, letting our bodies roll together. But since I’m on my own and my target is out of reach, I imagine Kit is here with me.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him dance before, but given how he moves his hips when he fucks, I bet he can grind really fucking well against me to the beat of a song.
The trick to doing what I do is patience. Luring someone takes time, so I get lost in my imagination for quite a while, swaying my hips, rolling my body, and closing my eyes to drown out everyone around me.
Every now and then, a guy comes up and tries to dance with me, but then I realise they quickly move off, and notice that the two security guys at the mouth of the VIP section are telling them to move on.
I grin at one, and then the other, but they don’t smile back, instead, stiffening and turning away.
That’s when I notice someone watching me through the crowd.
Dion Abraham.
He’s on a lounge, relaxing back into it like it’s his throne, a woman on either side of him, but while everyone around him talks, his eyes are glued to me.
Come on, Snake. Take the bait.
I turn my back, lifting my arms and swaying my hips, hoping my dress has ridden up enough to flash my red lacy panties.
“There you are.” Curly pops up in front of me, and I hold back my eye roll.
“Oh, hey. This place is lit!” I call over the music, and he bites his lip as his eyes fall to my nearly spilling over tits.
“You’re a fucking hot dancer. You work on a pole or something?”
Why are guys so dumb sometimes?
“Or something,” I coo, pouting my lips into an air kiss before turning and snapping in half at the waist, pushing my arse against his crotch.
The moment Curly’s hands land on my hips, two sets of feet appear before me, and I snap back upright, taking in the bouncers.
“Miss. Come with us, please,” one says, and on the inside, I’m doing an overexcited happy dance, but on the outside, I frown and pout.
“Are you kicking me out?” I whine like a little bitch. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Ugh, I sound so pathetic right now.
“Nothing wrong, darlin’. Our boss would like to see you.”
“For fuck’s sake. He can have anyone. Can’t he just let me have her?”
The bouncers glare over my shoulder at Curly, before gesturing to the opening path to the VIP section, and I leave Curly behind, my eyes trained on my target as I approach him, giving my hips extra sway to make sure I seal the deal.