Chapter 31
Sarge
What do you mean, stage name?
We’ve just closed up the pawn shop, the heavy rattle of the security gates echoing down the alley as we pull them over the doors and windows. We stay open later on Fridays, so it’s already dark out. By habit, we’re checking over our shoulders.
We chose this part of town on purpose. It’s a neighborhood where people in poverty rely on pawn shops and have learned not to look twice when a pack of bikers comes and goes. We’re left alone for the most part, but we aren’t blind to the reality of the streets.
This is a shitty part of town, and even though we’re the biggest predators in it, it doesn’t mean someone won’t get desperate enough to try us anyway.
Tonight, it’s Grimace, Ace, and me closing up. Usually, it’s only two of us, but business was steady today, and we needed the extra set of hands.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and my face cracks open with a grin. I already know who it is. We’ve been talking every spare second since I put my number in her phone.
Opening the screen, I see her latest text and realize I missed one from earlier.
My Butterfly (6:30 PM): Any exciting plans tonight?
My Butterfly (8:08 PM): Biker too busy to write a girl back?
Me (8:09 PM): Shop got slammed the last couple of hours. I’m sorry, Butterfly. Just closing up now. No big plans, probably just heading to the clubhouse. What about you?
My Butterfly (8:13 PM): Just working. I miss your scruffy face.
Me (8:15 PM): It misses you too. It’s so lonely without your thighs wrapped around it.
We’re all locked up, so I’ll have to leave her with that visual for a bit while I ride home.
“You guys ready to head out?” I ask the other two men, who nod in response.
“Very fucking ready, man. Today was a shit show.” Ace says.
I laugh out. “Yeah, yeah, it was. But damn good for business.”
“Clubhouse?” Grimace asks.
Nodding to the guys, we all fire up our bikes for the short ride back.
When we pull into the driveway, the gravel crunches under my tires.
The Edison lights strung up over the patio look.
.. nice, as much as I hate to admit it. The club wives and girlfriends are always trying to spruce up the place.
I fight them on it until they just do it anyway, and damn if it doesn’t look good.
We kill the engines and file through the tall wooden front doors.
I look around the common room. “Gotta admit, a woman’s touch has made this place look almost acceptable.”
Wolf rests across the room in a chair, smirking through his thick, graying beard like he’s got one over on me. “Oh shit, man. Speaking of—I saw your girl last night.”
Klaw has a beer ready for me already on the bar top. My hand freezes mid-reach for it. “Saw my girl?”
“You know... cute little thing, thick ass, legs for days. She really knows how to wear those heels.” He grins, looking entirely too amused with himself.
I whip my head around so fast my neck pops, my jaw tightening until it aches. “Excuse you? The fuck did you just say to me?”
Wolf laughs, oblivious to the storm rolling in. “Relax, brother. I’m complimenting her. Hell, she’s got moves. On stage, she goes by Lilly. Danced to Linkin Park last night like no other—”
That word—Lilly—detonates in my skull like a gunshot. It’s the name she gave Booker. I thought it was just an in-the-moment choice. I slam my bottle down so hard that foam sloshes over the table and onto my knuckles.
“You think it’s fucking cool to lust over my woman? You forget I’m not just your brother, your family—I’m the president of this goddamn club.”
Silence drops over the table like a lead weight. Wolf’s smirk falters, but he gives a half-shrug like it’s nothing.
“What do you mean, stage name?” I snarl, leaning in closer to close the space between us. My pulse hammers, heat crawling up my neck. “The fuck are you on about, Wolf?”
He stares at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. “You don’t know? She dances, man. Works down at Velvet. Fuck, I thought you were in on it.”
The room shrinks. My fists curl against the table, knuckles turning white. “Why the fuck would I be in on something like that?”
Wolf’s face softens. “Shit, man. You really didn’t know.”
I didn’t. Aside from knowing she worked nights, she never actually said what she did.
“No, I didn’t.” I throw my head back and finish my beer in one jagged swallow.
I never asked. That’s on me. She always texted when she got to work and when she made it home safely. Stupidly, I’d pictured a warehouse, an ER, a shipping hub, hell, even a bartender.
I’d imagined plenty of night shifts, but not this. My woman was on a stage while one of my brothers sat there staring and didn’t say a goddamn word.
“I swear to fuck, if you bought a dance from her, I will fuck you up, old man.”
“Calm down, man. I don’t even think she saw me. I went in with my nephew and didn’t wear my kutte. We sat in the back and didn’t stay long. The kid just wanted to see what the hype was about.”
“And you didn’t get a dance? Neither of you?” Just because Wolf stayed in his seat didn’t mean the nephew kept his hands to himself.
He shakes his head. “Nah, man. The kid got a dance, but it was from some busty blonde. Not your girl.”
Her job is her business, but my problem is that he watched. He watched her without thinking twice.
Thinking back, I should’ve put it together. That first night, she’d said: “Drunk men come with the territory of my job...” I hadn’t pressed. I hadn’t wanted to pry. Now I’m paying for that silence.
I need air. I need to get out of here before I do something I can’t take back.
Crashing through the club’s double doors, I pace beside my bike. The urge to punch something is overwhelming; instead, I ball my fist and crush the leather of my seat.
Logic says this shouldn’t hit me like this. The club enjoys hired bodies. Hell, we have strippers at our parties. We treat them right, pay them well. But the image of Hannah folded into that world claws at my insides.
No. Her body isn’t public property. It’s not for hungry, depraved men or even the brothers I ride with every day. It’s mine.
I need to see her. Texts aren’t cutting it anymore. Other men are looking at her, and I’m sitting here typing.
I love this club. These men are my family. But she’s brought something into my world that the club can’t—a silent strength and a bit of ball-busting that I didn’t know I was missing. Now that I know where to find her, I can’t get there fast enough.
I step back into the room, my voice booming. “We’re going to Velvet.”
“Man, that’s clear across town, and it’s almost two in the morning,” Wolf protests.
“Am I the fucking president of this club or not?” I bellow, the sound vibrating in the rafters. “We’re going the fuck to Velvet. Move.”