Chapter 16 #2
Normally, customers weren’t allowed to touch the dancer unless she gave him permission. As well as a shitload of scratch. The club took a good portion of any private dances, but anything earned above and beyond the basic lap dance belonged to the women.
Rage didn’t encourage the women to do that, but he also didn’t discourage them from making any extra cash that would help feed her and her family.
As soon as Luscious broke free of the biker’s grip, Rage jumped into action and hooked his left arm around the asshole’s neck, jerking his chin up and exposing his throat.
At the same time, his right hand swiped left to right, the freshly-made gap in his jugular making it easier for the Soul to breathe for about a half second.
At least until the gurgling started.
Rage leaned forward and murmured, “Thought you were so fuckin’ slick. Scopin’ out our shit so you bastards can try to take what’s ours for your own.” He straightened before he got any blood on him. “No risk of you spillin’ your guts to your club now, is there?” Only spilled blood.
What a fucking mess. But necessary to protect their MC and territory.
Rage wiped the bloody knife clean on the man’s T-shirt before snapping it shut and tucking it back in his pocket.
He glanced at the dancer and saw she was taking everything she just witnessed in stride. Thank fuck. “Turn off the music, get dressed, go clean up to make sure you don’t got even a drop of blood on you. Got it?”
Luscious nodded. She gathered what she’d been wearing out on the floor but didn’t put it back on. Instead, she held the balled-up dress to her chest and muttered, “Not sure this was worth a hundred bucks, boss.”
Rage cocked an eyebrow. “What’s it worth?”
“A year’s worth of fucking therapy.” With that, she shook her head and snuck out the door.
He glanced at the Soul in the chair, with his head fallen forward and still bleeding out. Yeah, he had no problem giving her more than a hundred bucks for her effort.
Rage grabbed some towels from the room’s supply cabinet and placed them on the floor around the chair to sop up the blood already puddling and to help catch whatever the man’s clothes didn’t absorb.
“Stupid fuck,” Rage muttered and stepped back out into the hallway.
He pointed at Gerbil, then jerked his thumb toward room three.
“Don’t let anyone inside that room. Rooster!
” When Rooster’s head peered around the wall, Rage ordered, “Send Pugsy into room three. Make sure no one else wanders back this way ’til we get this broken bottle of champagne cleaned the fuck up.
With all the glass in there, someone might get cut. ”
“On it.” Rooster’s head disappeared.
Pugsy appeared at the hallway entrance and lumbered Rage’s way.
Rage tipped his head toward the room. “Inside.”
As soon as the prospect crossed the threshold, he stopped short and Rage shut the door behind them.
“Holy fuck,” Pugsy muttered, taking in the scene.
“Your job’s to make sure every fuckin’ drop of blood is cleaned up.
Not one damn drop of evidence can be left behind.
That means you’re gonna burn everything.
His wallet, every damn stitch of clothin’, those towels.
Take that chair and lose it somewhere where it’ll never be found.
Dump this motherfucker’s naked body in the quarry off Sandstone Road.
Make sure to weigh him down, too, so no one spots a goddamn floater. ”
With a gaping mouth and wide eyes, Pugsy asked, “Did he stiff Luscious?”
“You’re a goddamn prospect. Don’t ask fuckin’ questions. Just do what the fuck you’re told.”
“Got it.”
“Good. Get this shit done quickly. Better not let anybody into this room ’til it’s spotless. Make sure nobody fuckin’ sees you takin’ that asshole out of this room or the buildin’.”
“How am I gonna—”
“Don’t give a fuck how. Figure it the fuck out. Don’t fuck it up or your cut’s gonna be stripped. Got me?”
“Yeah, got you, boss.”
“That shoulda been the first and only fuckin’ thing you said to me.” He waited to see what Pugsy did next.
“Gonna go get supplies.” Pugsy squeezed back out of the door.
Rage took in the scene one more time before stepping back out and going to Rooster, where he still stood guarding the hallway.
“Gonna get Hook to come tow that sled away, too.” He’d have Hook incinerate the cut in one of the burn barrels behind Shadow Valley Bodyworks, but he’d want one thing returned to him: the Soul’s name patch to add to his collection.
All other evidence that the man had even visited the club needed to disappear.
“Gonna tell the girls no more private dances ’til I tell them.
If a customer insists, they need to do it out on the floor. Got me?”
Rooster responded with, “Got you. Want me to stick here?”
“Yeah. For now, no customers beyond this point. The girls can only go into the dressin’ room. Make sure they ain’t snoopin’ ‘round.”
“You fuckin’ got it.”
“Good.” He also needed to let Gabi know about the private rooms being temporarily closed. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask fifty fucking questions like women tended to do.
After he did that, he called Hook and went out front to wait for him to arrive with the rollback.
While he kept an eye out for any other Souls showing up looking for their bud, he called Zeke.
The DAMC president answered on the second ring. “What’s up, asshole?”
Even though no one was wandering through the parking lot, Rage kept his voice down. “Hey, had a Soul scopin’ out the club.”
Zeke didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then asked, “Which club?”
Jesus. “Heaven’s Angels.”
“What the fuck?” Zeke bit out.
“Yeah. Thinkin’ ‘cause it’s one of our most successful businesses.” Silence filled Rage’s ear for a few more heartbeats as Zeke processed what he said. “Makin’ me wonder if they’re gonna do recon on all our businesses.”