Chapter 1
Widow
“Where is everyone tonight?” Marlowe asked as she wiped down the counter. “I haven’t seen it this dead since I started.”
“There’s a big Titans game tonight, but don’t get too excited.
Things will pick up.” Marlowe is Rafe’s ol’ lady.
He’s one of the reasons why she started bartending for us.
It’d only been a few months since she started, so I got why she might’ve been concerned about us being slow.
I glanced back over my shoulder at the table behind us, where a group of five or six guys were tossing back one pitcher after the next.
I couldn’t put my finger on why, but just looking at them gave me a bad feeling.
The way they were drinking didn’t bother me.
In a strip bar like Stilettos, you have to expect rowdy drunks, but there was just something off about these particular guys.
Maybe it was the way they kept looking around, watching every move the brothers made—almost like they were hoping for trouble.
Regardless of what they were thinking, my gut told me our quiet night wouldn’t be lasting long.
“Take my advice. Enjoy the quiet while you can.”
“That’s just it. I’m having a hard time enjoying all the quiet.” She motioned her head over to the flatscreen mounted on the wall behind us and sighed at the sight of Stark’s image flashing across the screen. “Just when you think they’ve put this story to rest, they dredge it all up again.”
“It’ll all die out soon enough.”
Stark was actually an associate of Marlowe’s biological father—a man who was once high up in the Italian mafia and planned to expand his business by branching out in Nashville.
He didn’t live long enough to make good on that plan.
We made sure of that, but Stark wasn’t ready to give it up.
He had it in his head he was going to finish what his partner started and thought he could use Marlowe to carry out his plan.
He was wrong. There was no way in hell we were going to let someone come in and take root in our territory, and we sure as hell weren’t going to let him use one of our own against us.
He never saw us coming. The asshole actually thought he had the upper hand, but it was clear from everything that was being said on the news, Stark was done—in more ways than any of us realized.
After listening to the reporter for several moments longer, Marlowe shook her head and said, “I knew he was a bad guy. I just had no idea how bad. To think he had all those guns and men at Crockett’s.
You’d think he was planning on going to war or something. ”
“Hard to tell exactly what he was planning,” I lied.
All the brothers knew what Stark was up to and how he intended to take down the club, but that was club business and club business was never discussed with our women—no matter how tempting it might be.
Hoping to change the subject, I asked, “You heard any more from Kate or your folks?”
“No, and I’m not planning to either...especially now that the truth has come out about Eric.” Marlowe shrugged. “I’m sure Kate is done trying to one-up me ‘cause there’s no way I could ever one-up that.”
“Ah, you never know.” I chuckled as I replied, “Give Rafe a little time. I’m sure he’ll step up to the challenge.”
Marlowe threw her hands up as she shrieked, “Oh, no! There’s been no challenge declared here! I’m good with things just the way they are.”
“I understand.”
Lisa, our veteran bartender, came over and smiled. “Hey there, handsome. Can I get ya a beer or something?”
“A Coke would be good.”
“You got it.”
Lisa winked as she turned and went over to make my drink. She was filling the glass with ice when Marlowe leaned over the counter and whispered, “Lisa’s really sweet, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, she’s one of the best.”
“She’s really pretty, too.” Marlowe quickly glanced over her shoulder, making sure Lisa couldn’t hear as she whispered, “She’d make a great catch for somebody.”
“Umm-hmm. You gettin’ at something, Lowe?” I asked, knowing good and well she was trying to set me up with Lisa.
“No,” she lied. “I was just making an observation.”
“Um-hmm.” Lisa was a pretty girl. She had a knockout figure and an ass that wouldn’t quit, but there was no way I’d ever tangle up with her.
Lisa was the kind of woman who was looking to settle down.
In fact, she’d had a thing for Hawk and was hoping to settle down with him until he hooked up with Delilah.
She’d never say anything, but I knew that shit hurt.
And the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her even more.
That didn’t mean I was going to miss the opportunity to fuck with Marlowe.
“So, you’re not trying to say that I should make a play for Lisa? ”
“I was just thinking you two could really hit it off.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. I just thought since you’re a nice guy, and she’s...”
“Make no mistake, Lowe. I’m not a nice guy,” I warned. “Lisa can do far better than me, and she knows it.”
“I don’t know. If you ask me, she seems pretty interested.”
I didn’t respond. There wasn’t any reason to. I knew Marlowe had good intentions, but I wasn’t a relationship kind of guy. Lisa came back over, smiling ear to ear as she placed my drink on the counter. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
“Thanks, Lisa.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Lisa gave me a flirty smile, then turned and went back to work.
I was about to get up to do my rounds when someone walked up behind me.
I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Rafe.
I could tell just by looking at the expression on Marlowe’s face.
Her lips curled into a warm smile as she said, “I wasn’t expecting you to come by tonight. ”
“Not staying long. Need to check in with Menace, and then we’re headed back.” Rafe eased forward and gave Marlowe a brief kiss before asking, “You having a good night?”
“Pretty good.” Marlowe motioned her head towards the empty tables in the corner as she continued, “Kind of slow tonight.”
“It’ll pick up after the game.”
“Yeah, Widow said the same.”
At the mention of my name, Rafe turned his attention to me and asked, “Everything running smooth tonight?”
“So far so good.” I’d barely gotten the words out of my mouth when Country came over and plopped down on the stool next to me. I looked over to him, and then back to Rafe as I mumbled, “Until now.”
“The party has arrived.” Country scanned the room as he chuckled, “And it looks like I arrived just in time.”
“I think that’s my cue to go find Menace.” Rafe gave me a brotherly slap on the shoulder as he turned and started towards the back office. “You three try to stay out of trouble until I get back.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Country snickered.
Rafe didn’t respond. Instead, he just shook his head and continued towards the office.
I was taking a drink of my Coke when I overheard Marlowe asking Country about his grandmother Gladys.
Marlowe had worked with her down at Crockett’s until Gladys sold the bar and her upstairs apartment.
Since she didn’t have another place lined up, she decided to move in with Ada, an older lady the club had watching over our storage lot, and from the sound of it, the two had become instant friends.
I was listening to Country tell Marlowe about some big dinner the two had fixed up for him when I noticed a security light flashing outside of one of the VIP rooms—signaling one of our girls was in trouble.
Without stopping to let Country or Marlowe know what was up, I stood and charged towards the room.
The second I opened the door, I saw red.
One of the assholes who’d been pounding beers with his buddies had our girl Izzy pinned against the wall.
Her lip was busted, along with her cheek, and there were red handprints all over her arms. She was trying to push the guy off her, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
The piece of shit had his hand between her legs, groping her as he mumbled, “Come on, baby. You know you want it.”
“No...I don’t! Get your hands off me!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I stormed over, grabbed hold of the guy’s shirt, and with one hard tug, I sent him flailing backwards.
His back hit the floor with a hard thud.
Before the guy had a chance to react, I reared my fist back and slammed it into his jaw.
I felt the bones in his face give way. Even though I knew I’d already done major damage, I couldn’t stop myself from plowing into him again and again.
There was one thing I couldn’t, wouldn’t, tolerate, and that was a motherfucker putting his hands on a woman.
I’d grown up watching my ol’ man use my mom as his own personal punching bag, leaving her black and blue on a weekly basis.
Back then, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Unfortunately for this dickhead, that was no longer the case.
His entire face was a bloody fucking mess.
I was pretty sure I’d not only broken his jaw, but his nose as well.
For a rational man, that would’ve been enough.
They’d see that the guy had gotten what was coming to him, but I wasn’t a rational man—not at times like these.
He was lying in a pool of blood when I dropped my hands to his throat, clamping down with all my might as I growled, “I should end your sorry ass right here and now!”
“Widow!” Izzy came up behind me and pulled at my shoulder. “You’ve gotta stop, Widow. You’re gonna kill him.”
“Motherfucker deserves it for putting his hands on you.”
I still had my hands wrapped around the guy’s throat when Country came charging into the room. As soon as he stepped through the door and saw the bloody mess beneath me, he gasped, “Holy shit, brother. You don’t fuck around.”