Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
WRATH
My phone rings, and I tug it out of my inner cut pocket, glancing down at the screen before I slide my thumb across to answer it. It says UNKNOWN NUMBER, which doesn’t bother me. Doing what I do, that is typical.
I hold the device to my ear before I greet the person on the other end of the phone.
“Wrath.”
There is a moment of silence, and I wonder if it’s one of those robocalls. I start to move the phone away from my ear to hang up when I hear a man’s voice on the other end. He repeats my name before clearing his throat, and then I hear him speak.
“I would like to set up a meeting.”
I know what that means.
He wants to hire us.
“Fat Boys, two o’clock.”
Ending the call, I shove my phone back in my pocket as a growl rumbles in the back of my throat and slowly rolls up and out of my mouth. It’s Monday. Maybe it’s best I get a job to discuss so I won’t be here to look at her… watch her… want her.
I move through the bar, but I’m stopped by Velvet. She holds up her hand, motioning for me to come over. Reluctantly, I shift directions and make my way toward her. She’s standing with her back against the wall, and I can’t help but wonder what the fuck she’s doing there.
“Velvet?” I ask.
She smiles, tilting her head back at the same time, and inhales and puffs her chest up. Her tits look good, especially with her back arched like that, but I’m not sure what the deal is. I watch her, waiting for her to speak, but she doesn’t quickly enough,
“Got shit to do, babe. What’s up?” I push her a bit more.
She hums, then pushes off the wall and takes a step toward me, then another before she is so close that her tits are practically pressed against my chest. Lowering my chin, I look into her eyes, my gaze searching hers.
“You didn’t want us cleaning?” she asks.
My brows snap together at her question. “I didn’t want you cleaning?”
“The clubhouse. You hired that woman to come in and clean the place.” She pokes out her bottom lip in a pout. It’s fake as fuck. She’s probably happy not to clean, seeing as she never fucking did much anyway.
I almost laugh, because this is a ridiculous fucking conversation if I ever heard one. She’s jealous, though I can’t figure out why she would be.
“We need the place cleaned. She has a service. What’s the fucking problem?”
She shrugs a shoulder, then clears her throat. This conversation is starting to annoy the fuck out of me.
“I just thought me or Minty might be the den mother.”
I want to burst out laughing, like, full-on fucking laugh. I don’t, only because I don’t want to deal with her fake tears, not today, not fucking ever. Instead, I tilt my head to the side, my eyes searching hers.
Clearly, she thinks she’s something she’s not.
“Sorry, babe, not a role for either of you. We don’t have a den mother right now because there are no old ladies around.
And you ain’t that, ain’t ever gonna be that.
We don’t have a house mouse, either, because none of you bitches can get off your backs or knees long enough to actually get to work.
So I hired a cleaning company to come in and make sure we don’t live in fucking filth. ”
She narrows her eyes at me, then lets out a heavy sigh before she continues. “You don’t give us the chance.”
Okay.
That’s it.
Shaking my head once, I lean down slightly, lifting my hand between us, and I touch my index finger to the middle of her chest. I don’t poke her over and over because I know for a fact that shit hurts, but I want to get my point across.
Because this is fucking bullshit, and she knows it just as much as I do.
“You don’t get old lady privileges when you’re a clubwhore, babe.
That’s the way shit is. The club isn’t as tightly run as it should be, but don’t make me regret that fucking shit.
Elodie is going to come in here and do her job, and you’re not going to say a goddamn thing about it to her. Do you understand me on that?”
She nods a couple of times, her head bobbing up and down, her eyes never leaving mine, and I realize that she’s going to be a goddamn problem, a big one, if I don’t stop this shit right fucking now.
“I’m not fucking around, Velvet. You will be out on your fucking ass if you do anything.”
She purses her lips together and widens her eyes in an attempt at appearing innocent. Again, I know she’s not—personally, intimately. But whatever. She wants to think she’s fooling me, that’s fine.
But she’s not.
“I understand,” she exhales all breathily.
Yeah. She doesn’t fuckin’ understand, but I’m done talking. I got a meeting to go to. “Leave her alone,” I remind her before I turn around and walk away from her.
Fuck.
Maybe I should stay here and keep an eye on things. I don’t have the time for it, though, and if I send someone else to Fat Boys bar, that could make the prospective client uneasy. I move toward the exit when I see Dare standing with his head bent, talking to a prospect.
I detour and make my way over to them, arriving just as the prospect walks away. I don’t ask him what that was about. It doesn’t matter, and it has nothing to do with me. I’ve got to stay focused, and with that focus, I need his help.
“You good?” Dare asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I got a meeting with someone who called me, but it’s the cleaners’ first day, and I wanted to be here to show them where to go and where not to go.”
Dare chuckles. “Pretty sure I could handle that for you. Anything else?”
“Actually, there is,” I begin.
Then I continue to tell him everything that just happened between me and Velvet. It’s not that I think Velvet is going to do something to hurt Elodie or her employee; it’s that it isn’t her place to say or do a goddamn thing.
Nothing.
“I’ll make sure nobody bothers them. They’re here for a job, and that’s what they’ll do.”
I grunt, then lift my hand, sliding my fingers through my hair before I tug on the ends slightly. That’s my tell, and I know it because Dare’s mood shifts instantly. He’s waiting for me to say something, voice concern or worry. Whatever the case, he’s bracing for it.
“One of us is going to need to get an old lady or something soon.”
Dare’s eyes widen, then he bursts out into laughter, like a full-on fucking belly laugh that lasts a solid thirty seconds. When he finally gets his shit together, I almost ask him if he’s okay but decide against being a smart-ass.
“I’m not joking, Dare. We got these clubwhores running around like they own the place. Shit will get out of hand.”
Dare’s smile stays firmly planted on his lips, but he doesn’t laugh again. In fact, he agrees with me. At least partially.
“Maybe we have a meeting about the roles each part of the club has, the working cog speech.”
Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I bring my gaze back to meet his, my lips twitching into a smirk before I let out a snort. “Brother, I fuckin’ hate that speech. I thought you retired it after your dad retired?”
He chuckles again. “Not a bad speech. He just gave it too often. I’ll schedule the meeting. I’ll text you.”
Turning away from him, I give him a wave as I walk toward the door, and then I slip outside, straddle my bike, and ride toward Fat Boys bar while trying not to think about that sexy little cleaner on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floors.
Ass in the air, tits swaying with the movement of her arm.
Fuck. Me.
I’m in deep shit.