Sun-Kissed Fangs (Court of Chains #4)

Chapter 1

Harper let her eyes wander over the clubroom, habit more than intention guiding their path. The Lucky Penny was packed, which shouldn’t be surprising for a Friday evening.

The Glitter Room—the main competition in the area—had closed for a few days because of a bug infestation, and the locals looking for feminine attention had crawled a few blocks over, filling the Penny beyond the brim. It was the kind of night that could pay a month of bills if approached right.

Harper didn’t want to be there at all. But after being out ‘sick’ for a week, she didn’t really have a choice.

“This is getting out of control.” Nell appeared next to Harper’s barstool, gesturing at the club floor. “There are way too many people, and Colton is being as useless as always.”

“Benefit of being the owner’s nephew,” Harper muttered.

Nell sighed, blowing a strand of curly dark-blonde hair away from her face and closing her robe around herself.

Other than the pattern, it matched Harper’s almost exactly.

Hers was dotted with red roses, while Nell’s was covered in embroidered vines.

“Seriously?” Nell said, having scouted the empty corner bar. “Ryan’s late again? It’s the third time this week.”

“He’s not late. He’s gone.” Harper stirred her water with a straw as Nell ducked behind the bar. “Patricia axed him. Finally. She caught him taste-testing the top-shelf stuff, again, so she’s interviewing for his replacement. And Colton’s, too. She just hasn’t found the time to argue about it yet.”

Nell eyed the skinny bouncer leaning against a nearby wall. Though Colton was happy to take in the sights, he was less enthused about stepping in when customers got too handsy. Plenty of the newcomers had already noticed that the Lucky Penny rarely enforced the listed rules.

“I hope she knows what she’s doing.” Nell picked up a bottle of cheap rum, placing it precariously close to the edge of the bar. “Darryl doesn’t like problems. According to him, change invites problems.”

“What’s he going to do? Fire her? The place would collapse overnight if Patricia wasn’t around to keep it standing. She’s too good for this place, and he knows it.” Harper lowered her eyes. “She’s too good in general. Neither of you belong in a place like this.”

Nell looked like she was about to argue but thought better of it. They’d had this conversation enough times that Harper knew the beats by heart.

Those rumors don’t mean anything. People will forget about them soon enough.

That owner was a creep, and we’d never stay after what happened.

Working here is just temporary until we find something better.

Harper sighed. It had been temporary for months at that point.

She gave the floor another scan, eyeing the awaiting potential.

College boys getting a ride from their parents’ paychecks.

Suits with money to burn coming off long workdays.

Lonely truckers who were single, missed their wives, or missed not having a wife.

There was even a woman at a nearby corner table, running a fingertip along the edge of a beer glass.

Harper narrowed her eyes. The woman was mostly obscured, but just her presence made her noteworthy. Other than rare occurrences when someone’s girlfriend got convinced that going to a strip club was a hot couple’s activity, the Lucky Penny didn’t have women customers.

“Everything okay?” Nell asked. Harper turned back towards the bar.

“I should ask you that. Noticed you took George to one of the private rooms. He looked like he was floating when he left, while you’re sporting a fine thousand-yard stare.”

Nell winced and added another splash of rum to her glass.

Nell was a favorite with several Penny regulars.

While she and Harper were both twenty-five, Harper made a living off the fact that she looked a lot younger than that while Nell didn’t need to.

With her slender curves, beautiful face, and warm olive skin that tanned easily, most men looked at her like she was a fantasy given flesh.

Which she was, in a way. Since it paid the bills, she played into it. But, as with all things, there was a catch.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Nell mumbled. “He just had heavy stuff on his mind today. Some men can only talk about their problems if they have a woman twenty years their junior sitting in their lap. Cheaper than therapy, I guess.”

“Not with how much George is doing it.”

Harper leaned forward, catching the rum bottle before Nell’s backwards elbows sent it crashing to the floor. She usually stayed far away from the bar, on account of her knocking over everything not nailed down, but Harper couldn’t blame her for wanting to blur her thoughts with alcohol tonight.

Harper was tempted to do the same. Setting down the bottle took a second longer than it should.

“I’m fine,” Harper said tightly, intercepting Nell’s concerned questions. “This week just fucking sucks.”

Nell paused. Then she took the drink she’d just made, dumped it in the bar sink, and remade her rum and Coke without the rum part.

Harper gave her a long look. “You’ll still be charged for that. And you don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not worried. I just don’t feel like drinking tonight.” Nell clinked her glass against Harper’s. “To Evie?”

Harper took a sharp breath. There was a reason neither of them had been scheduled to work that evening. If Darryl hadn’t demanded his two most popular dancers show up, they wouldn’t even be there.

She forced on a smile, clinking Nell’s glass.

“To Evie.”

A pang fired through her chest. An expected reaction, given that it showed up basically every time that name was mentioned.

Pain that had been present for over two years, ever since she got a phone call from a bored New Orleans police officer investigating the disappearance of one Evelyn ‘Evie’ Atkins.

The details in that call were all they’d gotten. Every other piece of information came from a private investigator whose dozens of billable hours had produced no answers.

Waste of money. It was obvious what had happened, even if no one would admit it.

“Is everything okay over here?” A stern voice, softened by a southern lilt, made both Harper and Nell turn. Patricia had approached the bar, her fair skin taking on a reddish hue under the scarlet club lights.

She’d been in her office most of the night, so she wasn’t as alluringly dressed as the girls working the floor. Though, Madame energy and blessed genetics meant she wasn’t many steps removed.

Patricia had spent over a decade managing clubs like this, and she looked ten years younger than her age of forty. Beyond a few lines of gray in her dark brown hair, her appearance hadn’t changed in the half decade Harper had known her.

“We’re good.” Nell kept her smile in place, while Harper had given up on hers.

Patricia crossed her arms. “Then why aren’t you walking the floor?”

Harper knew to be wary of questions like that. Most managers didn’t like seeing the dancers project anything other than sultriness—least of all misery. But Patricia wasn’t like most managers.

“I needed a break. Nell did, too.” Harper stabbed the straw into her water, making the ice cubes clink together. “Celebrating your dead friend’s birthday does wonders for your energy levels.”

Patricia’s stern expression faded. “Harper…”

“You disagree? It’s been over two years, and we’ve heard nothing. What do you think that means?”

“We don’t know that she’s dead,” Nell said, voice low. Her real voice, soft like velvet, and unlike the silky, seductive one she used when working. “Anything could have happened. And Evie’s tough. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She’s not fine. If she was, we would have heard from her by now. She would have come back, instead of just being gone like this. If you think otherwise, then you’re just lying to yourselves.”

Nell’s shoulders tensed. Hurt flashed over her soft features, amplified by her brown doe eyes turning glassy.

Harper wanted to curse at herself. She never snapped at Nell, not even in jest, but her tongue didn’t care about that. It had a habit of spitting out cruel words before she could think to keep them in.

It made most people keep their distance. But Nell and Patricia didn’t move.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just…” Harper’s bottom lip trembled. “It’s not fair.”

Someone vanishing like Evie had done wasn’t unheard of. Harper knew a few other girls who’d disappeared. Sex workers were easily forgotten, making them easy targets. Expected ones, too, going by how fast people had lost interest in Evie’s case.

Two and a half years ago, a woman Harper loved more than a sister had moved from Shreveport to New Orleans in search of a better life. Now she was probably rotting in a ditch somewhere.

“No. It isn’t fair.” Patricia put an arm around Harper’s shoulders. Nell let her smile return, carefully wiping her eyes before reaching her hand over the bar.

Harper took her hand and clutched it tight. She leaned against Patricia, stopping herself from turning her face against her shoulder and blocking out the room like an overwhelmed child.

When Harper leaned away, Patricia caressed the side of her head, smoothing out her bleached blonde hair. Harper usually dyed it bright colors, but she hadn’t felt like doing it in months. It had grown out enough to have dark roots.

Then Patricia stiffened, hand resting by Harper’s cheek.

“You have shadows under your eyes.”

That obviously wasn’t all she’d seen. Harper adjusted her robe and slipped off the stool.

“Didn’t sleep well. And I have to get back to it. There are men who need to be relieved of their hard-earned cash.”

“I’ll go, too.” Nell drained her glass and stuck some money in the till. “Callum just walked in. I’ll be busy for the rest of the night.”

Harper grinned and rolled her eyes. “Aw, poor you. Having to rely on curated regulars instead of seedy strangers like the rest of us.”