Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
He could’ve had her again that night. She’d been offering herself up.
But again, Rage had to remind himself that Lyric wasn’t a woman to be used. She needed to be respected and cherished.
And that was not how he normally fucked.
He wasn’t interested in all the “after shit” some women wanted to do. The cuddling, the pillow talk, even sharing breakfast the next morning.
Fuck no.
An elbow to the ribs had him snapping back to the present.
“Yo,” Rooster crowed.
“What?”
“Bogey at ten o’clock.”
Bogey? Did the club’s assistant manager think they were starring in a goddamn Top Gun movie?
Rage glanced over in the direction Rooster jerked his head.
“He look like a biker?”
Rage studied the long-haired, bearded man sitting on the other side of the stage wearing clunky silver rings with numerous tattoos visible.
His first instinct would be to say, yeah, it was a biker, and normally he wouldn’t care who came into Heaven’s Angels, as long as they weren’t wearing colors, didn’t harass the women, and paid their bar tab. The only colors allowed in the club were the DAMC’s.
They wanted everyone who entered through those doors to know who owned and ran the joint. In a way, it was a warning.
But any other MC? No. They didn’t even allow the Knights or the Fury to wear their cuts if they decided to come in and enjoy the entertainment.
So, yeah, the guy could be a biker, but unless they saw something that clearly identified him, he wouldn’t assume.
“You hear him mention a club or anything?” Rage asked the older DAMC member.
“Nah. Somethin’ ‘bout him just caught my attention. Wanna make sure he ain’t a Soul scopin’ out the place.”
Rage’s gaze sliced from Rooster to the man with his eyes glued to an upside down Cinnamon using a knee hooked around the pole to swing around it, her huge tits almost clobbering herself in the face.
Those jugs would be perfect for titty-fucking, but the fuck if Rage was doing that shit with one of his employees.
He already had enough issues with those crazy bitches and sticking his dick in one of them would make it so much fucking worse.
He could just see the other girls accusing him of favoritism and bullshit like that.
Strippers loved drama. If there wasn’t any, they’d make shit up just to start some.
No fucking thanks.
“Yeah. Need to stay vigilant ’til we get that problem solved.” The problem being both the Twisted Souls and the Russos.
Rage had a feeling that might take a while.
But in the meantime…
“Gonna go out to the parkin’ lot and see what I can find. You see he’s about to leave, gimme a fuckin’ heads up.”
“You got it, brother.” Rooster slapped Rage on the back.
After one last glance at the possible biker, Rage took long strides out of the club’s entrance and searched the parking lot for any sleds he didn’t recognize.
There were four motorcycles scattered throughout the front lot, but only one was a Harley. He headed to the Softail first. Of fucking course, the leather saddlebags were locked.
Fuckin’ son of a bitch.
Rage slipped a folded knife from the front pocket of his jeans, flipped it open, and after double-checking first to make sure the lot was clear, he popped the cheap-ass lock.
When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he did the same on the other side.
Fuck yeah.
He pulled the cut out only far enough to confirm it belonged to the Souls, then shoved it back into the saddlebag.
He refrained from kicking the Harley over, despite the anger that was building inside him. Grinding his teeth, he went back into the club, and as soon as Rooster spotted him, Rage gave him a slight chin lift for confirmation.
Rooster’s lips flattened out.
Yeah, his club brother’s suspicions had been right. It seemed like the Souls were doing recon in Angels territory.
They only had one reason to do so.
It wasn’t a good one.
His gaze slid through the crowded club until he spotted Luscious flirting with a customer. Rage took long, determined strides over there, grabbed her arm, and pulled her aside. “Need a favor.”
Luscious’s smile turned from fake to predatory and she raked her long, fake-ass nails down his arm. “Anything for you, boss. Do you want to go in the back or upstairs?”
For fuck’s sake. “Ain’t what I meant.” He ignored her toothy smile turning into a dramatic pout. “See the guy with the long hair and ratty braid on the other side of the stage suckin’ down a beer?” He warned, “Don’t be obvious.”
Keeping her head still, Luscious only moved her eyes to check out the Soul. “I see him.”
“Go over and let him see you up close and personal. Want you to convince the motherfucker to take you into the back. Offer him a private lap dance on the house.”
Her mouth gaped open. “On the house?”
Rage sighed. “Gonna slip you a Benjamin if you’re able to get him the fuck back there.”
Her eyes lit up and the predatory smile returned. “I won’t have any problem convincing him.”
Yeah, she was good at that. That was why he chose her over the other half dozen girls working the floor. “Good. Then fuckin’ prove it.”
“You got it, boss.”
Rage held her back for a second. “You get him in there, make sure the chair’s facin’ away from the door, hear me?”
She stared at him for a few seconds before murmuring, “Loud and clear, boss. Can I tell him it’ll be full nudity and include a hand job?”
“Tell him whatever the fuck you need to. Just get him back there. Expect a visitor.”
“For—”
“No. “ Rage shook his head. “No questions ‘cause you don’t wanna know the fuckin’ answers.” She’d know them soon enough.
She stared at him for another second before giving him a single nod and strutting her stuff over to the biker. Because of her crazy-ass, sky-high platform heels, her hips rocked and rolled enough to cause a damn earthquake.
Just like Cinnamon’s tits were big enough to fuck, so was Luscious’s dump truck of an ass.
But he wasn’t falling for that fucking trap.
“Plan?” Rooster asked, barely loud enough to be heard over the DJ’s music when he came over and stood shoulder to shoulder with Rage.
“Gonna need cleanup in whatever room Lucious takes him.”
“Ain’t nothin’ new.”
“Not that kinda cleanup.”
It took a minute for what Rage meant to hit Rooster. “Think that’s smart?”
“Want that motherfucker to take intel back to the fuckin’ Souls?”
Rooster sucked on his teeth. “No.”
“There you fuckin’ go. Once they go in the back, need you to keep watch.”
“Guess you’re doin’ the dirty deed?”
Rage raised his eyebrows. “You wanna?”
“Prefer not to take a long vacation in the joint and never see my kids or fuck my ol’ lady again.”
That was what he thought. “Solid decision.”
“My woman would fuckin’ think so, too. All right. Got your back, brother.” Rooster wandered away but kept eyes locked on Luscious and the biker.
It didn’t take long for Luscious to work her magic, but a free lap dance and hand job was pretty fucking motivating for almost anyone with a dick.
Rage tracked Luscious as she led the Twisted Soul toward the back rooms. Before they disappeared, she quickly held up three fingers behind her back.
Yeah, he picked the right stripper to help.
His impatience grew by the second as he waited so Luscious had enough time to get the man settled. A few minutes later, when his skin felt like it was about to split open, Rage headed toward the back and approached room three.
Rooster was propped against the wall right outside the hallway entrance that led to the back, and in that hallway near the private rooms, Gerbil also leaned against the wall as he worked security for the evening for any private lap dances.
It was dangerous for the girls to be naked in a closed room when they were entertaining horny motherfuckers. A lot of men didn’t know what the fuck boundaries were. The whole reason they needed to have someone standing right outside the room.
Some assholes needed a harsh lesson on that.
Rage would make sure they received that education, got tossed out on their asses, and told never to return.
Going all the way back to when Dawg, an OG, managed the club, keeping the girls safe was priority over profits.
Taking care of the strippers was one way to keep the club’s stable full.
Word got around that the dancers at Heaven’s Angels were taken care of, guaranteeing they never had a shortage of talent.
“Keep everyone else out,” Rage mouthed to the prospect when he stopped in front of room three.
Gerbil gave him a chin lift and pushed away from the wall to be on the alert.
This would be a damn good test for the prospect. They shouldn’t be bothered by death or destruction and should even be willing to take part in it.
He slipped his knife free of his pocket again, flipped it open, and leaned in closer to the door to listen. The music was loud enough to be easily heard. That meant Luscious was doing her thing and keeping the biker’s attention occupied.
Rage slowly turned the door knob and cracked the door open enough to make sure the biker wasn’t facing the door. He wasn’t. He was fully focused on Luscious shaking her bare booty in his face.
He opened the door wider, hoping like fuck the hinges didn’t need any WD-40, then quietly slipped inside the room and softly closed the door to avoid any witnesses.
Besides Luscious.
He was so damn proud of how completely professional she was handling the situation. She didn’t give the Twisted Soul any unintended visual clues that someone had joined them in the room.
When their eyes briefly met, Rage gave her a signal to keep dancing but to back off a little so he had room to work.
A fully naked Luscious dropped to her knees in front of the biker, then spread the man’s thighs, acting like she was about to pull out his cock and give him that freebie hand job.
Rage’s jaws clenched when the Soul grabbed her head and shoved it in his lap while at the same time fucking with the zipper on his stained jeans.