Chapter 12
Mia
The doorbell wakes me the next morning, and I sit up with a groan.
My head is pounding. Wrapping my robe around myself, I toss my hair in a bun and head to answer the door.
My whole body feels heavy. By the time I got home last night, anger and humiliation fueled me more than the alcohol, which meant I was practically clearheaded as I relived how that prick picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, tossing me in the cab like I was a disposable nuisance. All because some guy hit on me?
As I peek out the sidelight of the front door, I’m surprised to see Mr. Cress, the owner of the only funeral home in town.
His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of me. I can only imagine. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes, in my pajamas at… What the fuck time is it anyway? The sun glinting off the driveway tells me it has to be close to noon. He frowns and hands me a stack of papers.
“When your brother picked up your sister’s ashes, he didn’t take these, and I didn’t want to mail them.” He looks at me over his thick-rimmed glasses with exactly the kind of pity I despise. “I tried to call, but I think the line’s disconnected.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear and swallow the lump forming in my throat.
“My mom doesn’t use it anymore,” I say softly. “Thank you, Mr. Cress.”
He nods. “You’ll need them for the few things you have to close up for her, maybe a bank account? Do you have someone to help you?”
“Um… Yes,” I lie, looking down at the documents in my hand.
“Thank you again,” I offer as I close the door, feeling the sting in the bridge of my nose.
My knees give way, and I drop to the floor right there behind the front door.
This is the first time I’ve been alone in the house and sober since we officially said goodbye to her.
As I clutch the death certificates to my chest, I know I can’t push this grief off another day.
There’s no one here. I have nowhere to be. I let the sobs consume me.
I sit there and cry until I have no tears left.
Remembering everything, remembering who she was before that sick bastard, Gator Freeland, took all the innocence she possessed.
Remembering playing video games with the neighborhood kids on our living room floor, all the Barbie worlds we created and played with for hours, talking every night before we fell asleep, and fighting.
Oh, did we fight, but we always made up, and we were always there for each other.
When the sobs finally stop, I look around my mother’s empty house. I hate it here. Nothing has changed, yet everything has. It’s the same house we grew up in. The same furniture, pale yellow walls, and hardwood floors. It’s all the same and now so empty. Cursed.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and stand, moving to the kitchen to make myself a much-needed cup of coffee.
Fuck these tears and fuck this grief. Neither will help me now.
All I can do is stick to my plan and try to find out who the man is that Nic was so terrified of that day.
If it isn’t my new boss, I’ll move on to that creepy as fuck Wretched Soul, and then the next man after that, because this fight is all that’s holding me together right now.
Which means I’m gonna cling to it with everything I’ve got.
* * *
“Relax. Close your eyes and breathe.” I follow the sound of Briggs’s deep voice during our session, and I settle in. I know what’s coming. He’s going to attack when I least expect it.
I let out a grunt as two glove-clad fists hit my chest, almost knocking the wind out of me. I’m punching before I even open my eyes. Right, left, right, left, right, left.
“Enough!” Briggs bites out, and I stop. I still haven’t mastered the art of being attacked when you least expect it and maintaining control. I still get startled, but my recovery and response time are getting quicker.
“Relax. Breathe,” he says slowly. He isn’t even breaking a sweat yet. I’m hit again, and again I fight back. I picture Aiden’s face, tossing me into the cab, the way he dismissed me. I don’t want to have to bury a body tonight… Fuck him. I keep hitting.
“Enough, Mia!” Briggs’s command cuts through my anger and I freeze.
“Full of fire today, aren’t you?” he queries, a little breathless himself.
My chest heaves, and I breathe noisily through my nose as I nod. “Guess so.”
“I called you off twice. It was like you didn’t hear me.”
I look up at him, ready to apologize. He grins.
“Whatever’s got you riled up, that was your fastest response time yet. Good job. Keep it up. Now, let’s go again…”
I close my eyes and focus. I go back and forth with Briggs for the next hour, until I’m worn out and much calmer than I was when I arrived, and he only gets the better of me twice.
“Best session yet, Mia,” Briggs says, offering me a water when we’re through. “Keep fighting like that, and you’ll be going for the next belt before you know it.”
I smirk as I take a sip. At least Aiden Foxx is good for something.
Rage fuel.
* * *
“Tonight’s five-dollar beer night. And it’s gonna be packed.”
Roz hands me a tablet. “Did Cara go over how to work this?”
I nod. “Yeah, similar to the Palm. I’ve got it.”
“Great.” She lifts a case of Bud onto a stool behind the bar and starts placing the tall cans into the cooler.
“You’re taking VIP rooms three and four tonight.
Three is already reserved. It’s a bachelor party.
Those rooms are your priority. You serve them well, and you could make a killing. ” I nod. That doesn’t sound so bad.
“When the girls get asked to come in for private dances, you stay out, let them make their money then.” I nod, looking around. The place is already filling up and it’s only seven.
The music is loud but sultry, and the men look right at home, loosening their ties after a long day, watching girls dance.
“Oh, and those three guys in the corner? They’re a special bunch.
Tread lightly,” Roz adds. I look over at them discreetly.
They’re wearing Wretched Souls MC cuts. I don’t see the one who whispered in my ear last night, but I see my other target clear as day, sitting at the table, tall and lanky with graying spiky hair and a full, gruff beard, watching me intently as he sips his drink.
I never really looked at him that day at the Yard.
But I remember him from the clubhouse last night. His eyes make me feel uneasy.
“What’s their deal?” I turn back to Roz.
“Dagger, Mr. Salt and Pepper, he’s known to…collect things. He’s their prez.”
I cock my head, not understanding. “Collect things?”
Roz leans in a little. “By things, I mean…women. I don’t know firsthand, but rumor is, he’s into some crazy shit.”
I wait for more.
“Shit, you are innocent, aren’t you? Orgies, drugs, weird shit you don’t want to know about.”
“I’m tougher than you think,” I coax her, curious.
Roz sighs. “One of the girls did a private party at his clubhouse, and they asked her to piss on a glass table while he laid underneath kinda fucked.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Did she?”
Roz comes around the bar and leans onto it beside me.
“That’s between her and them,” Roz answers. “I don’t assume or ask. I only tell the facts for your safety. So, consider this your warning. Be careful.”
I offer her a small genuine smile. I appreciate how loyal she is to the girls. It makes me feel like she’d be loyal to me too.
“You good? Can you handle this?” she asks.
I look around. It’s impossible not to feel the energy pulsating through the space.
Three girls dance on the stage, while “Bury a Friend” by Billie Eilish plays loud through the sound system.
It’s Little Devil Night theme here, so the girls are all in deep red or black lingerie with devil’s cloaks to start, and they wear devil masks over their faces, keeping them on even when everything else comes off. The lights are low with a deep-red hue.
“I’m good.” I nod.
She looks me up and down. “You look great. Nice dress.” She winks as she squeezes my shoulder just as the front door opens and a group of guys walks in.
“All right, let’s go. Table six looks thirsty.” She glances at the four men currently stuffing dollar bills in Libby’s thong. Libby sees me and smiles, then winks.
I take a deep breath and toss my ponytail over my shoulder, plastering a sweet, obedient smile on my face.
Here we fuckin’ go.