Chapter 3 #2
“Really don’t wanna watch you getting your dick sucked.”
“Seen it before.”
“Not this close.”
“Then go the fuck somewhere else ’til she’s done.”
With a chuckle, Zeke headed over to the bar and grabbed a mug of coffee. He leaned back and sipped at his coffee as he talked to Pugsy.
For fuck’s sake. Talk about pressure.
He blocked out everything else around him and let Shimmer work her magic. And she was a hell of a magician, taking his load down her throat not a minute later.
Now, he just needed to roll a joint or pack a bowl and he’d be on his way to a complete recovery.
With a smile, Shimmer tucked him away, got to her feet, and squeezed his cheeks. “Are you good now?”
“It’s a start. You still got it, woman.” Rage slapped Shimmer’s ass before she headed toward the back of the building to finish getting ready.
He turned his gaze from watching her round hips rock and roll as she disappeared off the floor to see Zeke once again hovering.
“Didn’t think I’d find you out here. Thought you’d be in your office or still upstairs.”
“Had a few things to take care of first.”
“Apparently.” Zeke frowned as Rage got to his feet, then secured his jeans and belt. “What the fuck happened to you, dickhead?”
Damn. He needed to come up with a story. A story Pugsy wouldn’t hear and contradict. “Pugsy, go check the private rooms to make sure they’re all set up for tonight.”
“They’re—”
“Just fuckin’ do it! Check the restrooms, too. Make sure the cleanin’ crew’s doin’ a good job.”
With a nod and a sigh, Pugsy followed the same path Shimmer had and disappeared into the back.
Rage turned his attention back to the DAMC president. “Had an asshole get drunk and unruly last night. Hopped on stage. Began to fuck with one of the girls. Told him to leave. Got belligerent. Taught him a lesson.”
Zeke snorted. “Sure he didn’t teach you one?”
“Got nothin’ broken, so gonna say I won that.”
“Don’t fuckin’ remember?”
“Remember somethin’ ‘bout an ambulance. And since I woke up in my own fuckin’ bed, know it wasn’t for me.”
Zeke considered him for a minute, then announced, “Had a sightin’.”
“Of?”
“The Twisted Souls. They’re already rollin’ through our territory. Followed them a little bit to see if they stopped anywhere.”
Zeke wasn’t the only one who had a sighting of the Souls. Rage met four of them face-to-face. “Did they?”
“No, they kept movin’.”
“Damn smart on their part.”
“Smart would be them not enterin’ our territory at all.”
“Ain’t gonna get an argument ‘bout that.”
Zeke continued. “Talked to Romeo again to give him an update. They’re gonna keep an eye out and report back if they see anything.
Bottom line is, they don’t want those fuckers anywhere near our territory, either.
Think they’re finally gettin’ the picture.
What threatens us is eventually gonna threaten them. ”
“Gonna handle ‘em if they do.”
Zeke shook his head. “After seein’ what you look like after handlin’ one fuckin’ drunk?”
“Handle drunks all the fuckin’ time.”
“Looks like you got handled this time instead.”
Rage really needed to tell Zeke the truth. He’d gotten into it with plenty of belligerent customers in the past. But not last night.
Or the night before that.
“That why you stopped in?”
“Nah. Stopped in to grab some scratch out of the kitty.” Zeke pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket to show Rage what he took. “The Iron Horse was wiped clean.”
“’Cause you keep cleanin’ out the till?”
One side of Zeke’s mouth hiked up. “Gotta make scratch somehow. Got a woman and kid to support.”
“Kyra makes decent scratch.”
“Yeah, and? I’m her ol’ man.”
“You don’t even fuckin’ pay rent in that cabin.”
“Three year olds are fuckin’ expensive.”
“So are thirty-two year olds.”
“All right. I’m outta here. Just wanted to let you know those fuckers been spotted.” Zeke spun on his heel and headed back the way he came in.
“That news ain’t worth shit if we don’t have a fuckin’ plan to deal with ‘em,” Rage shouted at his back.
Zeke flicked two fingers over his shoulder as he disappeared.
They really needed to come up with a fucking plan soon. A plan that wouldn’t start World War III and cause a shitload of death and destruction.
Rage wished he had a fucking answer on how to go about that. Dealing with an outlaw MC was one thing. Dealing with the Mafia was another.
Dealing with both would be motherfucking crazy.
He grabbed his mug and ducked back behind the bar to top off his coffee. One mug this morning wasn’t going to do it. A dozen might scratch the surface.
When he caught movement in the corner of his eye, he thought it was the girls ready to start the early shift since the front doors would be unlocked soon.
It wasn’t like there’d be a rush of customers, but some regulars like to grab the best seats right at the stage. How they had all that expendable cash to toss on stage, he had no fucking clue, but he’d like to know their secret.
He did a double-take at the sole person making determined strides his way.
Jesus fuck. That definitely wasn’t one of his girls. Someone must’ve left the back door unlocked.
The last person he expected to see today was Steel.
Former Special Forces. Retired Shadow and underground fighter. Current MMA instructor.
Even at his age, Piper’s father still oozed badass.
“What are you doin’ here?” Rage asked the man when he bellied up to the bar.
Though, despite that age, Steel still didn’t have much of a belly.
It was more of a six-pack. He and his wife and former MMA champion, Kat, still worked out like crazy.
Along with helping out at Shadow Valley Fitness by teaching boxing and MMA to the area’s youth.
They also trained the DAMC women in self-defense.
Steel grunted. “Need a word.”
“Let’s fuckin’ hear it.” Rage took another long gulp of coffee.
Steel leaned in closer, locking eyes with Rage. The look in them would make a normal person shit their pants, but Rage knew whatever anger the older man was holding onto wasn’t directed at him. “Listen. You find out who those fuckers are that hurt Pip, you give that info to me.”
Fuck. He glanced around to make sure no one else was within hearing range. He kept his voice low when he said, “Already handled.”
Steel’s head jerked back and the toothpick he was never without jumped from one corner of his mouth to the other. “What are you talking about?”
Rage dug the name patches out of the inner pocket of his cut, where he had moved them after discarding his bloody jeans, and tossed them onto the bar in front of Steel. “Exactly what I fuckin’ said. Got it handled.”
Steel fingered the patches. There was no way he could miss the dried blood on the embroidered rectangles. “Those were the ones involved?”
“Yeah.”
Steel grinned around the toothpick in his mouth. “Good. Think they’re done fucking with the club?”
“No.”
That grin fell flat. “What are you jackasses doing about it?”
Rage wished he had that fucking answer. “Got any suggestions?”
Steel had been on the six-man team that eliminated the Warriors. He probably had a shitload of suggestions.
And if so, Rage was going to listen to every fucking one. After that, he’d decide which of those he’d bring to the table.