Chapter Two
It was too hot and humid to fully appreciate the evening. Cleo had gathered her hair up in a clip, but a few strands couldn’t be contained and clung to the back of her neck. It was pointless to swipe them away. She’d be in the same predicament in another ten minutes.
She sat with her eyes closed, manifesting a cooler temperature. Some nights it worked. Others not so much. Tonight was proving to be a battle between reality and manifestation.
“Icicles, snow, igloo. I’ll settle for a lukewarm breeze at this point,” she muttered, seeing it in her head but couldn’t get her body in check.
At eleven-thirty at night, it should have cooled down a few degrees, but on the last check it was still in the eighties.
At least outside. The others enjoying the night were treated to air conditioning in the rooms while Cleo was stuck on the bottom steps of the old motel, sweating her existence away.
This is my job. It wasn’t glamorous by any means.
Housekeeper at a brothel? It hadn’t been a lifelong dream or a childhood aspiration, but it gave her something.
A purpose. The pay wasn’t bad either. Fifty dollars an hour times a forty-hour work week left her with more money than she knew what to do with.
She saved most of it, only splurging on treats.
When she’d first arrived at the MC with her brother, Knox, she wasn’t expected to work.
After a month, her boredom got the best of her, and she asked for a job.
Cleo was willing to work for free. After all, her brother’s club had taken her in, fed her, housed her, and asked for nothing in return.
To this day, she wasn’t sure how Knox had convinced Ace to let her work.
He, along with the rest of the club, had been adamantly against it.
They didn’t trust her. It was fair. They had a lot to lose if she knew too much and decided to share with the authorities.
I would never do that. Still, they hadn’t known that. But somehow Knox had convinced them.
She heard a door creak, and she leaned forward, peering down the walkway.
It was a client coming out for a smoke. She pulled out her paper, finding the room number.
He was scheduled for another hour, which meant he was just taking a break.
Her shoulders sagged in pure disappointment.
Cleo wasn’t eager to clean up cum-stained sheets or dump condom-filled wastebaskets.
But at least she’d be doing the cleaning in air-conditioning.
The two-story motel had been converted and mildly updated long before she’d arrived.
It was off the beaten path in Killcreek.
There were still some days she drove past the entrance.
It was discreet. No signs or any indication that down the mile long dirt road stood a brothel.
People didn’t stumble upon it, but if they did, they’d see nothing but a dated motel and be none the wiser about the services provided behind the walls.
The first floor was for the women. Each ran her own business. She chose the clients and services she provided. The club made their money off renting the rooms on a monthly basis, which included security, if any of the clients got out of line.
There was a small apartment attached to the lobby area that housed whoever was on duty.
The second floor was only accessible from the rear.
It was where most prospects lived during their time before becoming a full-fledged member of the club.
As part of their free rent, they were expected to serve as security for the women who worked there.
Initially, she was uneasy with the idea of working in the motel. But for the women, it was their own business. They provided what they wanted on their own terms. Who was she to judge anyone on how they make their money? I clean up sperm for a living.
Most of the women were nice. A lot had been extremely excited when she was hired to clean the rooms between customers. Until she’d started, they were left to do it on their own. But there were a few who had taken an immediate dislike to Cleo, for reasons she still didn’t know.
Cleo wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead and rolled her neck.
Only two more hours. She glanced over at the main entrance.
The lobby had central air, but it was used as a waiting room, which meant she’d be surrounded by clients.
It was often awkward, and she was forced to make conversation. Other times she was propositioned.
I’ll suffer in the heat.
“Wake the fuck up, Cleo.”
She immediately straightened when she felt the toe of a stiletto nudge her ankle.
“Room 107 needs to be cleaned. Right now!”
Cleo flinched, pulled her leg away, and glanced up. While most of the women had been decent, there were a few who looked at Cleo as if she was beneath them. Jeana was one of them. She was her least favorite, but Cleo never muttered a word of her distaste.
“Hurry the fuck up. They don’t pay you to sit on your ass.”
Cleo forced a smile and stood. She grabbed hold of the rolling rack she’d stored in the corner of the landing.
Cleo walked down the open walkway and stopped at room 107.
She glanced down at the rope on the knob.
There was a method of knowing if the room was occupied.
A red rope meant don’t enter and green meant all clear.
It was simple but not foolproof. She unlocked the door and opened it.
The lights were dimmed, which should have been her first indication something wasn’t right.
However, she didn’t doubt Jeana and walked inside until she heard the deep grunting followed by a feminine squeal and a raspy voice.
“What the fuck?”
Cleo spun around, knocked into her cart, and gasped at the scene. She’d seen naked people, plenty of them, but none quite like this. The position was fairly common, but it was clear this wasn’t an average doggy style.
“Oh my God.” Cleo closed her eyes, turning blindly and slamming into her cart.
“Get the fuck out!” the woman screamed.
“I’m trying.” Cleo rammed the cart with all her strength, finally getting the wheel over the lip of the floor. She closed the door behind her and rushed toward the end of the path.
Cleo barely caught her breath when she heard feet padding behind her. “What the fuck, Cleo?”
She quickly turned and held up her hands to face the angry woman. “Melissa, I’m so sorry. Jeana said room 107 needed to be cleaned. You had the green rope on the knob.”
“I had the red, Cleo!” Melissa shouted.
No, it was green.
Jeana magically appeared behind Melissa, which seemed increasingly suspicious considering the gleam in her eyes and showcasing her bright smile.
“Can’t believe you’re pulling this shit again,” Jeana sneered with a little too much pleasure in her tone.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time Cleo had mistakenly barged into a room that had been occupied. But this time, it wasn’t her fault.
“You said it needed to be cleaned.” Cleo shook her head, darted her gaze between the two women, and pointed to the door. “The rope is green.”
Except it wasn’t. The red rope was hanging on the doorknob when all the women looked over. What the…
“I know my colors, bitch. It’s red.” As Jeana passed, she shoulder-bumped Cleo, sending her flying into the wall. “I’m handling this. I’ve had enough of your dumb shit. You’re fucking done.”
Dammit.
Cleo slowly glanced up at the other woman. “I swear it was green.”
Melissa sighed, rolled her eyes, and walked back into her room, slamming the door. Cleo couldn’t blame her for being upset. By all outward appearances it looked like Cleo was lying. But I’m not!
Cleo straightened, peering over at the window into the lobby.
Jeana had made it inside in record time and was waving her hands and pointing out the window.
Cleo’s shoulders sagged, and she dragged her feet across the parking lot.
This was not going to end well. It was Cleo’s fourth offense in the last three months.
Even before she got to the doors, she could hear Jeana ranting about her.
She drew in a breath and pulled open the door, skittering inside.
The familiar laugh echoed through the small room, and Cleo fought against the heat rising to her face.
He was the last person she wanted to have this discussion in front of.
She ignored his presence and peeked over at the desk.
Cypher was standing behind it, arms folded and scowling.
It was a signature look for the club’s tech guy.
He rarely smiled. He was usually in charge of the motel during operating hours.
It made sense. There was a room behind the lobby with multiple security screens and surveillance. Cypher had installed it all.
“Troublemaker. I called it the day Knox brought you here.”
Cleo darted her gaze across the room to the guy seated in the recliner, clucking his tongue and shaking his head. Why was he even here? Gent pushed up from the chair and strolled toward her with his usual oddly charming, yet somehow menacing smile.
“Darlin’, you just can’t keep yourself outta trouble, now can you?” Gent winked.
Cleo ignored him and inched closer to the counter, leaving a wide clearance around Jeana.
“This is fucking bullshit, Cypher. She’s done this three times!”
Actually, four.
“The rope was green, I swear, and I…” Cleo barely finished when Jeana lunged toward her with her hand lifted and her palm inches from her face. Cleo flinched, lifting her arms to shield herself from the slap across the face.