Chapter 7 #2
I decide it’s more my hatred for Malachi, who wants her dead to enrich himself, than concern for Ames’s fate that has me formulating my plan.
If I marry her, she’ll come under the club’s protection. And if in eighteen months she gives me five million dollars, the club will fall at my feet if I direct the majority of it into the club’s coffers.
The downside? I’ll be stuck with the bitch, but only for a limited time.
If it’s in name only and doesn’t cramp my style, then surely it’s a win-win situation all around?
Maybe her suggestion isn’t one I should dismiss out of hand.
Then I frown. It wouldn’t be so bad if I actually liked her.
Perhaps I can palm her off onto one of my brothers.
Surely someone will step up and take one for the team?
That’s my last conscious thought, as finally, exhaustion takes its toll, and this time, when I close my eyes, they stay shut.
A crashing sound wakes me. I’m often in a bitch’s bed, so it’s not unusual for me to find myself in a strange room.
But there’s none of the girly shit I’m used to seeing.
Instead, there’s cleaning paraphernalia all around.
I swear as it all comes rushing back, and my eyes land on the culprit who’d caused my rude awakening.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl, looking at the bottles and shit on the floor.
“I think I stood up too quick.” Ames’s hand is rubbing her temple.
I get to my feet. “Fuckin’ clumsy bitch.” Pushing her out of the way, I head for the bucket.
“What are you doing?” she all but shrieks.
“Taking a piss.”
Carefully, I pull down my zipper. Of course, I’ve got the predictable morning wood, and it’s a bastard to get pointed down into the bucket.
Holding it firmly, I manage as best I can, but hey, I’m a man, and I miss.
The sound of the stream hitting plastic instead of the half-filled bucket betrays my poor aim.
“What the fuck?”
I swing around, engorged dick in hand. “I’m trying my fuckin’ best.”
Her eyes go wide. She takes a step back, only to catch her foot on one of the bottles she’d recently dropped, and lands hard on her ass. When she yelps, I’m concerned.
“You hurt?” I take a step toward her.
She shields her eyes. “Put that thing away, yeah?”
What? Oh. “It’s just a dick,” I casually say, nevertheless putting said offending appendage away. “I suspect you’ve seen one before.”
Her eyes are still covered, and her face flushes red as she shakes her head.
I snort. “You telling me you’re a fuckin’ virgin?” Rolling my eyes, I add, “Fuck, this keeps getting better.” I bark a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re saving yourself for marriage.” It’s especially amusing, seeing as last night it was me who she proposed to.
“I’m saving myself for someone who’s not an asshole,” she counters. Which only makes me laugh harder.
Groaning, and with one hand to her ass, she stands, then suddenly she reaches out her hand and shakes my arm. “Shush.”
I stop laughing and listen. Yeah, I can hear it too.
It’s the sound of somebody hovering. I look at her, she looks at me, then we both launch to the door and start hammering and calling out.
It takes some time to get whoever’s working the vacuum’s attention, but at last it’s switched off.
We keep hitting our fists to the door, and finally, we hear a timid voice.
“Is, is there someone in there?”
It’s a woman. I don’t recognise her voice, but Ames does. “Nancy? It’s me, Ames. I kind of got myself locked in here.”
“Oh my. I’ll go get the spare key.”
Ames and I look at each other. Both of our eyes open wide. “There is no spare,” I tell the woman who I’ve been trapped with all night, remembering what Joe had told me.
It seems, however, that the cleaning staff knows better than the bartenders, bouncers, or wait staff. Within moments, Nancy is back, and as simple as that, the door opens.
When I appear behind Ames, Nancy’s eyes become saucers.
“It’s not what you think,” Ames says fast. “Rattler wanted some polish, and I was helping him find it. Then the door slammed behind us, and the lock jammed. Oh, and Nance? I’d make sure this door is propped open, if I were you.”
“I’ll get a prospect to come change the lock.” I finally get a chance to say a word. “And Nancy, wasn’t it?” When she nods, I add, “There’s a bucket that needs emptying.”
That said, I take hold of Ames’s arm and pull her away, leaving the bemused cleaner behind us.
I’m unable to keep the grin off my face.
Me? I’ve already got a reputation, which will probably improve if the rumours get around that I got locked in while fucking one of the servers.
Ames? I suspect she’ll be mortified. And fuck if that isn’t worth a chuckle.
She tries to escape my hold. “I was going to empty that,” she hisses. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Doll, it’s a strip club. She’s cleaned up worse.” I continue to frogmarch her through the main area, then to the hallway leading off the opposite side of the stage, the one that leads to the back door.
“Where are you taking me?”
“The clubhouse. You’ll be safe there. I’ve got to talk to Bullseye about how to handle your situation.”
She attempts to get me to stop, but I just pull her along. “I can stay here. I’ll make myself useful, get on with the cleaning up…”
“Nah. Your brother might come back. Can’t take the chance.”
“He won’t be back until we open.”
I stop, swing around to face her, both my hands now on her arms. “First, you can’t know that. You’ve no idea what he’ll do. And if that is his plan, you’d have to leave before then anyway, so why not leave with me now?”
She hisses, “He could be outside waiting.”