Shadowrider’s Dazzler (Iron Punishers MC #8)

Chapter 1

What the hell was I doing here? I had no interest in what was going on around me.

I could’ve stayed at the clubhouse, talked bullshit with my club brothers, and drunk.

The music was loud and made an annoying drone in my head.

The chatter from others around us made my teeth clench.

I was unusually irritated. I’d been like that a lot.

In fact, for a good while. Nothing seemed to fit right, and there was no reason it shouldn’t.

I was still a member of the Iron Punishers MC.

Had been for the last six and a half years.

I loved my club. I had a job at one of the club’s businesses, Punishers’ Lager, that I enjoyed immensely.

I spent time riding, which was always great.

Sometimes it was alone, other times with my club brothers.

I had an extended family that I could rely on.

That was in addition to my blood family—Dad, Mom, and my younger sister, Blythe Marie. I should be content, but I wasn’t.

I wondered when this unrest would finally stop. I was too fucking young to be going through a midlife crisis. I was only turning thirty-three in a couple of months. I should have years before that happened, if at all.

I was here with Gravel, Riot, Sandman, and Crusher, the club’s sergeant-at-arms. Mayhem, the club enforcer, was here, but since he managed Punishers’ Eden, the club’s strip club, he was usually here.

Mayhem would stop by and chat for short periods, but he was working, so his time wasn’t his own. As for the rest of us, we were a bunch of single bikers drinking in a strip club on a Monday night.

To some, that might sound like a dream, but it wasn’t, not anymore. Sure, when I first prospected and then was patched in, I loved coming here. Who wouldn’t want to watch women remove their clothes and dance provocatively? Many of them were very sexy and attractive.

What people didn’t know was that, despite that, none of us touched any of the dancers, bartenders, or waitstaff.

It wasn’t a written rule, but our president, Reaper, and the other officers strongly discouraged it.

They were right to do it. When you broke up with them, which was nearly inevitable, it left a mess behind.

We could lose valuable employees over getting our cocks wet.

We had plenty of women to choose from elsewhere.

This fact meant we might watch the show and admire them, but we kept our hands and cocks to ourselves.

Plus, if we tried to play fast and loose with anyone here, Mayhem would hand us our asses.

He was extremely protective of the staff, especially the dancers.

The previous owner had been a piece of filth.

The ones who were here then had suffered.

No way would he allow it, nor would we want to do that to anyone.

I wondered how long I had to stay before I could leave without causing a ruckus.

The guys had razzed me until I agreed to go.

They said I was isolating myself and that I needed an outing.

I disagreed, but kept my mouth shut. I knew they’d keep hammering at me until I gave in.

They did it out of brotherly concern, but I found it somewhat irritating.

Several people had approached our booth to say hello or to start a conversation.

They were either acquaintances or knew the club in some way.

I forced myself to say hello. On top of that, there were some women in here tonight who appeared not to have come for the show, but rather to see if any of the Punishers were here and to catch our attention.

The bravest ones had approached the table, hinting at their willingness to have fun tonight, and angling for an invitation to join us. So far, none have succeeded.

The biggest entertainment tonight had been a drunk who had to be escorted out for arguing with the bartender that he wasn’t drunk and to give him more alcohol.

The bartender, Kelli, had cut him off, which was her discretion and job.

When the guy got loud and threatened her, in stepped the bouncers, and not far behind was Mayhem.

Riot and Sandman had been ready to assist. The strip club was where they worked, but this was their night off.

Ratchet, the other brother who worked here, was on tonight.

However, the drunk was easily subdued and shown the door by the bouncers.

It was a matter of pride for them to handle situations before Mayhem or the other club members did.

Tonight, Joaquin and Marco were the bouncers.

“Hi, fellas, can I get you anything?”

The voice of Rebekah, our waitress for the night, disturbed my meandering mind.

I gave her the attention she warranted. Like the others working here, she worked her ass off and deserved to be acknowledged.

I gave her a nod as our gazes met. She was always sweet and professional.

She’d worked here for five years, I think I heard.

My brothers all spoke over each other, then razzed each other as they called out their orders, making her smile and shake her head. Then, Rebekah was eyeing me.

“Can I get you another beer, Shadow? Or maybe something non-alcoholic?”

I contemplated for a few seconds before tapping my beer bottle.

“I’ll take one more, then I’m done. The same as I had. Thanks, Rebekah.”

“You’re most welcome. Alright, I’ll be back soon, fellas.”

She expertly wound her way through the tables to the bar.

“I tell you, they’re getting worse. Mayhem said if shit keeps up, he’ll have to start keeping someone next to the stage for every dance,” Riot said.

I leaned closer to hear what he was talking about. My curiosity was piqued. “Sorry, I missed what you said. Why does Mayhem need to keep someone next to the stage for every dance?” I asked.

“You were daydreaming over there. I was telling the guys that there’s been an increase in men coming in here who want to make trouble, get on the stage, or try to put their hands on the dancers. You know that shit doesn’t fly here. She was almost grabbed Saturday night. They’re the worst with her.”

“Worse with whom?” I asked.

“Parvati. They come in droves to see her, and they’re the most aggressive with her. The attempts to touch and take the stage double or more when she dances. She can’t walk through the club when she’s not dancing without an escort. She sticks to the back room the entire time,” Riot explained.

My entire body stiffened, hearing what Riot said and her name.

Christ, what the hell was she still doing here?

I thought she’d leave. Only she kept at it, becoming the headliner for Eden.

Who would’ve expected, after less than two years, that someone like her would become the headliner?

Her image filled my mind. Before I could reply, the announcer broke through.

“Gentlemen and ladies, Punishers’ Eden is pleased to present the goddess herself. Welcome to the stage, Parvati,” his voice boomed.

The stage lights were off, but as they flared to life and the beat of the music filled the building, she strolled onto it.

Even when she wasn’t trying to be provocative, she drew the eye.

She shouted sexy, but that wasn’t what made her so successful.

It was the fact that she appeared sexy and alluring yet innocent. It was an unbeatable combination.

And in her case, it wasn’t an act. Or if it was, she was the best actress in the world. As Parvati began her routine, I fell not only under her spell but into the past. Recalling the moment I first saw her, I never imagined how things would turn out.

She’d been among a group of ladies auditioning for a spot as a dancer at Eden.

The ones who applied were a mixture of very experienced, somewhat experienced, and her, not one bit of experience as a stripper.

Even though her routine was a little unpolished, we saw the potential.

That was why, when the decision was made, she and another woman were given spots.

There had been hard feelings among those who didn’t make it.

The worst had been Whitney, her own cousin.

The thing, then, was that she wasn’t known as Parvati, the Hindu goddess of dance. She was simply Aubrielle. Her shy sweetness had led Astrid, Mayhem’s old lady, to befriend her. Astrid was super protective of her. Aubrielle had later formed friendships with the other old ladies in the club.

We had very little social interaction between our employees and the club, except at a family appreciation day or something similar.

However, Aubrielle had an open invitation to come and go from the compound or hang out at the clubhouse.

I believed it caused hard feelings among some, not only at Punishers’ Eden but also at our other businesses.

She wasn’t the only one who had ever had it happen, but it was rare.

In total, the club had nine businesses in and around our town of Bristol, Virginia.

There was a tattoo shop, a strip club, a microbrewery, a home-restoration company, a car wash, a bar, a youth outreach program, and an interior design studio.

The last two were ones brought to the portfolio by the old ladies claimed by Maniac and Tinker, the lovely Lark and Haven.

Both ladies insisted they bring theirs under the club’s umbrella of businesses.

I was surprised that Aubrielle stuck with it, but beneath her exterior lay a well of strength and determination.

I wasn’t sure where it came from or what fed it.

She was friendly to everyone, but there was still a wall there, or so I thought.

I itched to know what she was protecting or hiding behind it.

However, it wasn’t my business. And if it was something bad, it hadn’t presented itself when Spawn, our IT genius brother, checked her out. Anyone close to the club had their background investigated.