CHAPTER FORTY ANALYZE THE MANIACAL SMILE RHYS
CHAPTER FORTY
ANALYZE THE MANIACAL SMILE
RHYS
What a fuckin’ headache.
Literally.
I pushed away from my desk, closed my eyes, and rubbed my temple. Knew what was coming, and it was driving an ice pick into my brain.
The Friday after Noah’s SBOOB intel, I hadn’t been surprised to see the convening group of protesters outside of Rye.
What had caught me off guard was there were more than three bored bastards.
A lot more. And most of them had big-ass signs advertising the BS complaints against my bar, pictures of the neon dick graffiti, and even some after the drive-by.
Thankfully, none of them included any views of Lo, but it was still jacked to see.
Worse, they’d gotten the footage from being there. Lo recognized the group that’d assembled across the street soon after the cops arrived that night.
Those uppity assholes were trying to use the fact I’d been shot at—possibly randomly—to take away everything I’d worked so hard to build.
They were back the next night before going silent during the week. I’d hoped that was the end of their attention span, but they’d returned the following weekend.
And as we got ready for a Friday night concert, I did it knowing they’d be back.
I thought about canceling. Probably should have. But the band was close to something big, and I wanted their names on Rye’s wall as a before-they-were-famous memory. Beyond that, they had a good following, and that was mutually beneficial.
Wicked was in even worse shape. Protestors had to stay off the property, but that didn’t stop them from filming and streaming from across the way with some bullshit justifications that it wasn’t their fault the strip club was in the background.
Not a lot of men were lining up to have their faces and vehicles splashed all over the internet.
It didn’t help matters that they caught one of the nightclubs they were coincidentally filming outside of was overserving and letting customers drive away wasted.
Or the pills and coke that were found behind the bar.
That win added to the group’s credibility and sway with the public. Even if they backed off, the damage was done.
People remembered the headlines.
They didn’t always see—or believe—the retractions.
“How’d I know I would find you in here?” the prettiest damn voice—and the only person keeping me sane—asked.
I dropped my hand and blanked my face of everything but my smile.
“Don’t do that.” Lo moved across the room and stopped in front of me.
She knew what would happen.
She just liked it.
I hooked a finger in her belt loop and pulled her onto my lap before kissing her neck. “Don’t do this?”
“Definitely do that,” she breathed.
I palmed her tit. “Don’t do this?”
“Always do that.” She tilted her head to give me more access to her neck even as she said, “You’re not going to distract me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said as I bit down.
She pushed away but kept her position on my lap as she clicked the computer mouse to rotate through the cameras. “Anything yet?”
“Still too early.”
The Biddy Bullshit Brigade, as Lo and LaQuin dubbed them, never showed until peak to get the most bang from their efforts.
“Everything will go fine,” she reassured. “Murphy agreed to stick close. As soon as anyone steps out of line, he’ll shut it down.”
I used my hold on her tit to plaster her back to my front before swirling my tongue around her neck. The shiver that went through her made my dick jerk against her ass. She shifted around like she was trying to get comfortable when we both knew she was just trying to drive me outta my mind.
Something she easily did—and not always in an erotic way.
Pulling the neckline of her shirt aside, I bit down on the sensitive skin at her shoulder, sucking it in before biting again. I dragged my tongue up and let my lips graze against the shell of her ear when I asked, “Which one is Murphy again?”
“Is that what that maneuver was about? Marking your territory?”
“Marking my property,” I corrected.
The spot wasn’t visible with her shirt in place. I wasn’t stupid. Outta my head with jealousy? Fuck yes. But not stupid enough to fuck with her actual job by broadcasting the lines we’d crossed.
Still made me feel better knowing it was there.
“I almost forgot,” she said. “I was coming to let you know that Midnight’s equipment is set up, and now they’re hanging out in the back room.”
“And here I thought you came in to get felt up.”
“That was just an added bonus.”
I gripped her hips and lifted her to stand before following after—all without releasing her.
I slid my fingers up the back of her hair as I nudged her forward like I was going to bend her over my desk.
For a second, I almost forgot that I was only supposed to be teasing her and why it was a bad idea to follow through.
I released her and stepped back, and her angry pout was instantaneous. “You’re evil.”
“That mean you don’t want to come with me to check on Midnight?”
“You’re also handsome,” she tacked on. It was her go-to response to get her way.
And it worked every damn time.
The check-in went quick since they didn’t need anything more than the burgers they’d already gotten from the kitchen. Otherwise, they were good to go and almost as excited as Lo.
She’d had zero clue who the band was. And after I’d played some tracks, she hadn’t been overly impressed. The grungy garage band wasn’t her taste. That said, she’d been excited to finally see someone—anyone—on stage.
We headed back down the hall, and I hung my head back as soon as Warner appeared at the other end.
“Sorry, boss,” he said. “Just want you—”
His words were interrupted by my phone ringing. I pulled it out to see Glitch’s name and was going to send it to voicemail so I could hear what Warner had to say. Before I could, Lo plucked it from my hand and ducked into my office.
I kept going to meet my head security guard. “What was that?”
“I was coming to tell you that your fan club is starting to assemble, and they don’t seem big on the band’s lyrics.”
“That on their signs?” At his chin lift, I smiled.
Their signage about sex and rock ‘n’ roll would do enough free advertising to offset the damage their other signs were doing.
When I turned at Lo’s approach and caught sight of her expression, I knew that tidbit was the only good news I was getting.
A pit formed in my gut. “What happened?”
“Mayhem is on their way over.”
It wasn’t just two or three brothers who’d shown up.
It’d been most of the club.
Apparently, Lo jacking up the asshole’s arm previously had been a topic of discussion at the clubhouse. Glitch had played the footage in slow motion to enjoy the guy’s pain, and that was when Judge realized he’d seen him before.
He was one of Elliot Nash’s underlings.
That might’ve been a coincidence. Nash was the kind of scumbag who employed other scumbags. According to Judge, he went for cheap labor in high quantities versus paying for quality.
If taking Lo to Wicked would’ve put her cover at risk, bringing her to NashVille—a sketchy western-themed strip club—was definitely out. Beyond that, the protesters were still at Rye, and she was the only person I trusted to keep shit together.
Most of Mayhem had remained behind with her to help while Judge, Jury, and I went to the club. Since Nox had his own history with Nash—history that included nearly shooting the man’s dick off after breaking into this Fortress of Fuckery—we were waiting for him to join us before we went inside.
“Couldn’t help but notice that things with Lo are looking pretty damn real,” Judge said from the driver’s seat next to me.
“What tipped you off?” his brother asked from the back seat. “The fact he can’t keep his hands off her, or that he’s watching her on the camera now?”
“I’m making sure shit is okay,” I said, though both were true. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s a damn clusterfuck right now.”
“Right,” Jury muttered. “And the fact I clocked this the first time I saw you two together is just a coincidence.”
I whipped around. “And yet you made a play for her anyway.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Figured you’d be a dumbass and either deny yourself or let her go after a night or two.”
Denying myself was impossible when it came to Lo.
So was letting her go.
It’d only been a few weeks, but a few hours was usually long enough for me to start feeling the itch. I didn’t have that with her. If anything, my obsession was growing.
I couldn’t say I was mad about it, either.
“If we’re done analyzing my personal life, Nox is here,” I snapped as I opened the door.
Nox—along with two of his guys, Matt and Beck—got out of the other vehicle. “What’s good, lads?”
“We were analyzing Rhys’s personal life,” Jury said.
“Christ.” I pushed my temple like earlier, but there was no curvy badass to distract me from the pain in my head.
Or all the pains in my ass.
“Things still good with the lass then?” Nox didn’t wait for an answer. “Nah, it’s better than good, huh?”
“It would be if I was back at my bar with her and not about to step into this fresh hell.”
“Aye, and it is hell. Careful what you touch. Or who you touch.”
Fuck, this is gonna be bad.
We made our way toward the building, and Nox scanned around. “Looks like they made some changes.”
I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but everything seemed normal. Nice, even.
The bouncer at the door stopped us before we’d even reached the entrance. “No.” He pointed to Nox and his guys then Judge and Jury. “You five are banned from the premises.” He looked at me. “And since you’re with them, I’m banning you, too.”
Nox pulled a couple folded hundred-dollar bills from his pocket like he’d been expecting the obstacle.
The guy shook his head. “Go before I call the cops.” A couple more bills were added to the offering, but he wasn’t swayed. He barely even glanced down at them.
Damn.
The low murmur of conversation came from the entryway before another man stuck his head out. “Boss says pat ’em down and let ’em in.”
After everyone else took a lap back to the vehicles to strip the weapons from their bodies, we were finally ushered in. From what I’d heard of the place, I’d expected a stereotypical rundown club.
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t Wicked good, but mystery stains weren’t marking a faded carpet.
There were no roaches or scurrying rats.
The tables and chairs all appeared new. From what I’d been told, NashVille was a mismatched club that’d been Frankensteined together—part western theme, part cigar lounge, all corny and cheap.
Scanning around without looking at the stage, all I saw was subdued cowboy accents in the shockingly clean place.
“Looks like they made a lot of changes.” Nox’s brows lowered as he looked around. When a glossy-eyed woman spotted us and perked up, he added, “But some things stay the same.”
The bouncer from outside escorted us back to an office.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t Nash standing behind the desk. I’d never seen the man before, but Nox must’ve at least recognized him.
“I’ve seen ya before,” he rumbled, the same furrowed expression on his face as he looked around.
“Carl. I was a bartender last time you came in,” the man said.
“Moving up in the world, aye?”
“Something like that.” For a man who’d gotten a helluva promotion, he looked far from happy as he sat. “What can I do for you?”
Judge pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked the screen to show a close-up screenshot of the prick with the busted arm. “You know him?”
“Knew him. I’ll see if I can find his name and contact info in the records, but he’s no longer employed here.” He leaned closer, squinting at the picture. Even with it cropped, it was easy to see he was being restrained. “If he did something, it’s unrelated to us.”
“Speaking of,” Nox said, “where is the rest of the us?”
“Mr. Nash is out of the building.”
That was an understatement since no one had gotten eyes on him in a year.
“Where?” Nox pushed.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
What the fuck is going on here?
Nox tapped a phone—though not the cell he’d used at the clubhouse—against the desk as he tilted his head. “Is there anyone who does know?”
Carl shook his head. “If he gets in contact, I’ll let him know you were here.” He stood and gestured to the door. “In the meantime, I hope you’ll stick around for a drink or a little fun. We’ve made some big improvements to the club.”
Something about the way he spoke put me on edge. Like I’d turn in the dark, and he’d be there with a bloody knife and a maniacal smile.
Since we couldn’t exactly force the creepy fucker to talk, we left—without the drink or the fun.
“That was a waste of time,” I said when we reached our cars.
“Wait for it,” Nox said, crossing his arms as he looked toward the street. I was about to ask if he’d left a bomb that would be exploding or some other crazy shit when he smiled. “Knew it.”
Carl crossed the street, and rather than the knife I’d pictured, it was a phone in his hand.
The one that Nox had been tapping on the desk.
“A leave behind?” Jury muttered.
“Good for extending hookups and clandestine meetings,” Nox shot back.
“I’m assuming this is recording,” Carl said with a shake of the cell.
“Aye. But you looked like you had more to say, so it was mostly a reason to get you out here and away from any cameras or wires that’re keeping your mouth shut.”
“I don’t have any answers for you.”
“But there’s still something.”
Looking around, Carl stepped closer. Not to get in Nox’s face, but to quickly say what he needed to say. “Nash is gone. Some of his crew stayed loyal and left, too, but most fell in line with the new leadership.”
“Which is?”
“No clue. Everything is passed down the line, and none of us at the bottom know who or what’s at the top.
” He scanned around again. “I was using when I started working here, but I got clean right around the time Nash disappeared. His second, Lance, put me in charge of running the club before he was suddenly in the wind, too. Someone is making orders and upgrades and changes, but I don’t know who. ”
“Dancers are still high as kites,” Beck tossed in.
“Higher. That’s stayed the same.” Another paranoid glance over his shoulder before he lowered his voice.
“Something is off. Orders are placed that’re never delivered.
Girls are disappearing. I’ve got a girlfriend, a kid on the way, and a lengthy record.
This job is my best chance at providing for them, and I try to keep the girls safe.
Nash was garbage, but whoever is in charge now is worse.
And you’re not the only people stopping by with questions, trying to solve that mystery.
” He tossed the phone to Nox. “I’ve gotta go. ”
He rushed back across the street.
Leaving us with more questions than answers.