33. Jax
Jax
It might be my birthday, but I still have to go to work that night.
Scott’s face is healed enough that he no longer looks like someone used him as a punching bag, so at least I don’t have to do his job and mine tonight.
When we arrive, there is already a long line out the door. I glance up at the office, looking to see if any lights are on. It’s unusual for Flynn to be away for such a long period of time, and I’m starting to worry that things at the new venue aren’t going so well.
He has a substantial list of investors to secure before we can start renovating, and I can only hope that he’ll get the money we need and be back soon.
I glance at Scott’s face as he makes his way through the side entrance. It still has a ways to go.
Actually, maybe it’s best if Flynn doesn’t come back right now after all. It’ll give Scott a little longer to heal.
As soon as I walk in, I know that Nick and his boys are in the club. Tyrel flanks me the second I hang up my coat.
“When did they arrive?” I ask as we fall into step down the stairs together.
“He was here as soon as we opened. He’s already helped himself to three bottles of vodka from behind the bar. I didn’t know if you’d want me to stop him, but I didn’t.”
“No. That’s fine.”
“What does this guy have on you?” Tyrel asks, his fingers flexing. “Because I can put him in the trunk of my car and drive him over some speedbumps for a couple of hours if it’ll help.”
I stop at the bottom of the stairs, turning to him as he gives me a smug smile.
“Don’t do anything. We don’t want to piss him off, okay?”
“He’s an arrogant son of a bitch.”
“I know, but Monroe is not someone you want to fuck with. He wouldn’t think twice about hurting you. Look what he did to Scott.”
“I’m a lot bigger than your brother.”
“There were three of them.”
Tyrel’s face hardens in a way I’ve rarely seen as he makes a visible effort to tamp down his anger.
“Alright,” he says tightly. “Just don’t deal with him on your own, okay?”
I look into the main club where the music is blasting as the floor begins to fill up. It’s busy, but not too packed yet. Nick and his boys have commandeered the best booth, one that I know for a fact we’ve got booked out all night to paying patrons. Fuck…
I step beneath the psychedelic lights above my head as we move onto the main dancefloor.
Tyrel is a huge, reassuring presence behind me, but I would rather be alone.
I don’t want him to hear Nick’s posturing or any of the details of the debt we owe.
The last thing I need is for the staff to find out that Scott has a gambling problem.
We make our way around the dance floor slowly, as I assess Nick from a distance. He and his boys seem to be having a good time already; one of the vodka bottles is half empty.
“Well, well, good evening, Jax,” Monroe says immediately as I approach. “It’s so lovely to see you again,” he croons, leaning forward in his seat, and flashing me a yellow stained-tooth smile.
He’s in a ridiculous outfit tonight, with a black cape draped over his shoulders like he’s in a 1920’s mafia movie.
The lights flicker across his face, burying into the scars and pockmarks on his skin. There’s a sliminess about him that makes my skin crawl.
“You have everything you need?” I ask, through gritted teeth.
“I will,” he says evenly. “When I get my money tomorrow.”
His eyes are twinkling, as if this is all fun and games to him, and I have to clasp my hands behind my back to stop myself from grabbing him by his cape and slamming his head into the table.
With the money I’ve made this week, we’re almost up to twenty grand again. But this payment situation isn’t sustainable; it’s only a matter of time before it all falls apart.
Nick isn’t even bothering to come in person tomorrow; his man of business is meeting Scott behind the club to collect the money.
This is just child’s play to him.
“You have an impressive setup here,” Nick says, raising his voice just enough for me to hear him over the beat of the music.
There’s an ease about him tonight. He knows he’s in charge, and it shows. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand, trying not to grimace as he runs his eyes over my body.
“You know, there might be a way we can resolve this issue once and for all.”
My jaw aches from clenching my teeth so hard, and I raise my eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah?”
“How about you give me a stake in this place instead of all these inconvenient repayments? Twenty percent ought to do it.”
I hold back the urge to scoff and keep my expression as blank as possible. If Flynn found out this schmuck was asking for twenty percent of his pride and joy, he would explode on the spot.
“I’ll think about it,” I murmur, not knowing what else to say. I have no leverage over this asshole. He could ask for anything he wanted tonight, and it would be almost impossible for me to refuse. I shift my weight as he scoots toward the edge of the booth and leans toward me.
The boys around him are drinking and talking amongst themselves, settling in for the night. Monroe is relaxed and suave, as if he already owns the club.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, and there’s a honeyed quality to his voice now, genuine interest in his eyes.
He moves along the seat, shucking off the ridiculous cape and putting an arm over the back of the booth. Tyrel stiffens beside me but doesn’t move.
“You know, I understand that this is a stressful situation for you,” Monroe continues. “Your brother really did a number on you, and his bad choices are causing you a lot of aggravation.”
His other hand moves to the edge of the table, inches from my thigh.
“I don’t want to make your life more difficult, Jax. You and I could reach an arrangement that’s more pleasing to all parties. We won’t have all this sordid money changing hands. It can just be you and me.”
I glance down as his finger extends, caressing the front of my leg. I hold my breath, counting to ten. This man is repulsive to me in every sense of the word. I don’t want him to be within one hundred feet of me, but I also know we don’t have enough money to pay him for the long term.
If I reject him, will he take it out on Scott?
Sensing my uncertainty, Monroe rises. He’s not much taller than me, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he slides a hand around my waist.
Nausea rises as I feel his chunky fingers curl against my flesh. Tyrel is tense beside me, waiting for the signal to punch the guy in the face.
“So,” Monroe purrs, “I could let you off ten grand if you let me taste you. Maybe if we go somewhere private, I can make tomorrow’s total zero.”
I stare into his eyes, disgust consuming me, praying it isn’t showing on my face.
He has very dark eyes that look black in this lighting, just like a shark. His fingers tighten enough that I can feel the press of a nail against my waist.
Is this really so different from what I do with Gray?
The thought isn’t a pleasant one, but I can’t shake it off once it springs into my mind. I take money from Gray for sex, and that money goes straight into Nick’s pocket. If I let Nick touch me, doesn’t that just cut out the middle man?
But as I consider that, I know two things with absolute certainty.
First, this man is the opposite of Gray Jones. And second, if I let him touch me once, he’ll never leave me alone.
I pull gently away from him, fighting the strong urge to shove him back into the booth. The men behind him have noticed me now, sneering and whispering to each other as I try to keep a hold of my composure.
“I’ll think about that,” I say, my voice hollow. “But right now I’m afraid I’ve got a job to do.”
Fuck my life, and fuck Scott for putting me in this position.
“I’ll hold you to that, Jax,” Monroe says, his lips tipping up at the corners. “I’d enjoy making you scream for me.”
The only man who has ever made me scream is Gray Jones, asshole.
“If you need anything else, just ask the staff,” I reply in a strained tone. “They’ll look after you.”
He sits back down in the booth, cocking his head to one side, his eyes resting on my legs.
“I’ll do that, thank you, Jacqueline.”
I want to rip the name out of his throat, carry him up the atrium, and hurl him over it, listening to the satisfying crunch as his body hits the floor.
“Have a good night,” I say instead, and turn away, relieved that I’ll be able to avoid them for the rest of the evening.
“Tone down your expression,” I murmur, as I move toward Tyrel. “He might shoot you in a back street for looking at him that way. Observe but don’t intervene, and make sure he doesn’t touch any of my staff.”
“I’m not leaving this spot tonight,” he says darkly.
“Thanks.”
“Where’s Scott?” he asks.
“Upstairs. He won’t come down here. I’ve made sure of it.”
“Good.”
I squeeze his forearm gently before turning away, my stomach in knots as I walk back toward my office on the ground floor. I should be walking around, making sure we don’t have any trouble brewing, but I just need a second alone.
I can still feel Nick’s hand on my waist, the heat of it, the proprietary way he pressed his disgusting body against mine.
I’m angry that I didn’t push him off immediately, that I’m beginning to think of my own body as a commodity.
I tug at my skirt, pulling my vest straight, and move through the crowds as the DJ begins to play a deep throbbing base that pulses through the floor, vibrating through the heels of my shoes.
Pink and red lights bathe the dancefloor as I move through swinging arms, flashing jewelry, shouts of excitement, and laughter filling the air around me.
I’m reaching the other side of the floor when I look up, stopping dead in my tracks.
A pair of very familiar, bright blue eyes are watching me from a booth in the corner of the club. As I stand there, frozen in place, they run over my body like a caress, and this time it sends a shiver right through me, erasing any hold Nick Monroe had on me in an instant.
Shuddering, I stare at Gray. He’s nursing a drink in front of him, a white, crisp shirt tucked into gray slacks and an impossibly casual stance. His broad chest is on full display through the tight fabric of the shirt.
He looks edible, and I can’t help the rush of heat that passes through me.
Fuck, did he see me with Monroe?
I manage to force my legs to move, wondering what the hell he’s doing here. Anger is easier than analyzing the other feelings settling in my gut at the sight of him.
I march toward him as I see the little spark of amusement in that impassive face of his. He continues to watch me as I reach the table, glaring down at him.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I needed to blow off some steam,” he says, his fingers running around the rim of his glass and making my whole body ache. “It’s a nice place. A little small, but nice.”
I glower at him as he smiles slowly, watching me lose my temper with apparent relish.
“Jensons is the fourth biggest nightclub in the city,” I retort.
“Hmm, you’re right,” he says, sipping his drink. “Which ones are the top three, again? Oh yes. They’re all mine.”
“Fuck you.”
His eyes darken, and I suck in a breath as he stands up. “What a good idea,” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear it over the music. “You have somewhere more private we can go?”
This time, the offer doesn’t repulse me; it sets a fire through my blood, and I’m moving before I even think it through, walking toward my office. Gray’s powerful steps move behind me as I try to keep the need coursing through my body under control.
I wonder if Nick Monroe is watching us leave together.
Let him.
This is a real man, you piece of shit, and he’s all mine.