Chapter 1
One
I hoist my bag higher on my shoulder as I slip out through the back exit of the club. The screen on my phone shows that I’ve got a missed call from an unknown number. They left a voicemail.. Probably someone calling for my mother. Oh Mom, where have you ended up now? And in what state?
Last month I found her in a drug den three blocks away.
She was completely out of it, and the needle was still in her arm, the belt still loosely wrapped around it.
It’s another property of many by the Knights of Mayhem.
Another reason to stay put; if I leave, I’m sure Steve will punish her for it.
I press a few buttons on my phone until I’m redirected to my voicemail.
When I was on stage in nothing but my thong. The only upside to the night? There were two bachelorette parties. They often give generous tips, and tonight was no exception.
“First new message.” There is a moment of silence.
“Hello, Miss Morgan. This is Officer Phoebe Thomas from the Sacramento Police Department.” I come to an abrupt halt and my heart is pounding in my throat.
Why is the police calling me? “We would like to speak with you about your mother. Would you please contact us for further information? Thank you.” There is another silence, after which the robot voice takes over.
“End of message. To replay this mes–” I end the call.
What the fuck? What did mom do?
With trembling fingers, I tap on my phone screen and search Google for the police station’s phone number. Shit, mom. Did they catch you buying drugs? I can’t think of anything else. Steve had her hustle for a while, but now Mom looks too much like a junkie, and not many guys get turned on by that.
So that can’t be the reason she was arrested.
The phone rings, and with each ring, my heart seems to beat faster.
“Sacramento P.D.,” a deep, gruff voice sounds.
“Good evening, this is Kenzi Morgan speaking,” I say with a trembling voice.
“I got a call from Phoebe Thomas earlier tonight and was wondering if I could speak with her?” I spin around and then continue walking to give myself something to focus on.
My free hand is wrapped around my waist. My eyes wander through the dark streets and I realize that anyone could hear me, but there’s no one to be seen. I press my lips together and march on.
“What's this about, Miss Morgan?” the voice growls in my ear.
“My mother,” I blurt out. “You found her?” Once again, the tremor can be heard, but I don’t care.
There is an awkward silence on the other end of the line that makes my stomach drop. “Right. I’ll put you through.”
It takes a few minutes, and I’m just walking down my street when a soft, friendly voice comes over the line. The same as the voicemail message. “Hello, Miss Morgan.”
“Call me Kenzi,” I answer softly.
“Hello, Kenzi, this is Phoebe Thomas from the Sacramento Police Department.” She takes a deep breath. “I called you earlier about your mother. Is there any chance you could come in?”
I open the door to my apartment. “I live in Citrus Heights.
Can you tell me how serious it is and whether I will be able to come in the morning?
I'd rather not just drive back and forth.” I sigh, but I don't feel like picking up Mom in the middle of the night at a police station.
As far as I'm concerned, she can spend the night there.
“Kenzi, your mother… she passed away. She’s in the morgue, and we wanted to know if you’d like to see her and bury her.”
“No,” I blurt out, as my bag falls to the floor and its contents spill out onto my carpet. The “no” has two meanings, but the detective only asked about one.
“No?”
Tears are already running down my cheeks as I think of her. What has become of her. “No.” I can’t hold back the sob that follows. Sadness and anger rush through me at the same time. “What am I supposed to do with her body? I barely have enough money to buy a meal,” I sob.
“Kenzi, if you come in, we'll cremate her and you can take her ashes with you if you want?”
“Is that a possibility?” I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand. “Who will pay for that?”
“Where do you think we'll take your mother if you don't show up? Come say goodbye, Kenzi, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life.” Her tone is friendly even as she points out the obvious.
I wipe my nose. “Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Can we do this later tonight?”
“I'll wait for you,” she answers with a soft voice.
I end the conversation before the woman can say anything else and drop to my knees on the carpet. Despite everything, I love my mother very much, but now she’s really left me alone. I wrap my arms around my waist and let it all out.
Ten minutes later, I get up, put all my things in my bag, and disappear into my bedroom.
I retrieve a duffel bag from under my bed.
The side pocket contains tips from the past five months.
I add today's and then start pulling clothes out of my closet.
When everything is packed, I rush out of my apartment and hurry to my car.
I’m going to the police station, say goodbye to Mom, and then I’m out of here. If that son of a bitch can’t hurt Mom anymore, then I’ve got no business staying here.
The next morning, I’m standing in front of the doors of Bliss, a nightclub where erotic dancers perform on stage.
Something I’m used to, but the owners of this club are the Renegades - one of the other MCs around here.
According to the rumors I’ve heard, they’re enemies of the Knights of Mayhem.
I have pinned all my hopes on the saying “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
I toss my blue hair over my shoulder and push against the front door of the club.
It opens easily, and I carefully step inside.
My gaze sweeps across the club’s interior.
At the back of the room is a huge chandelier, under which a semicircular bar has been installed, surrounded by stools.
On the left side is a huge stage with a pole, and there are cages in the corners.
Seating areas have been created throughout the rest of the space in the form of black leather sofas arranged in a U-shape.
It’s sleek, dark and dripping with sexy vibes. I swallow.
“Good afternoon.” A woman with fiery red hair walks up to me. “Can I help you with anything?”
I tear my gaze away from the interior and straighten my back. “Hi.” I nod at her, “I understand you have a job opening?”
The woman tilts her head. “That’s correct, but we’re looking for someone with experience.” Her voice sounds hesitant.
“I have,” I say, sounding more confident than I actually am, and hop on my other leg.
The woman frowns and says, “Let me just get some papers.” On her immensely high heels, she turns around and strides away to disappear down a hallway where a sign that reads “Private” can be seen.
I hear a clink, and turn toward the bar.
There’s a muscular man behind it, rinsing glasses and putting them back on the bar behind him.
He’s probably getting everything ready for opening hour.
The click of heels approaches me again, and it doesn't take long before the woman comes into view.
She extends her hand when she's almost next to me. “I’m Ivy, by the way.”
“Kenzi,” I say as I shake her hand.
“You can fill out these papers.” Ivy points to a small table and I slide onto the bench next to it. “If you're free, you can audition tonight.”
My gaze skims over the papers. “Is it true that you work on a voluntary basis?” I look up at her from under my eyelashes.
“You’ll get a contract like you would’ve at a supermarket. The only thing we do have is a confidentiality clause. If you want something else in, let’s say, two years’ time, you’re free to go.” Ivy nods and runs a pen over the points where it's written.
I listen with half an ear to her story and think about the possibilities. The opportunity to audition tonight is perfect. Hopefully, they have a place to sleep in the building where I can go unseen. I should look into that, because going back to my apartment isn’t an option.
“Confidentiality clause?” I ask as I consider the words.
“It’s standard procedure. Sometimes customers discuss things and there’s a chance you might overhear something. The kind of information that isn't meant to go public, you understand?”
Nodding, I pull the contract toward me. That makes sense. I put my pen to the paper. “Sign here?”
Ivy nods. “The contract is only valid once I sign it, and I only ever do that if the audition is successful.”
“I’m free tonight. What time do you want me, and can I choose the song myself?” I pull my long blue hair into a ponytail.
“Is nine o'clock a good time for you?” She taps the papers on the table so they form a neat stack.
“Fine.” I nod.
"You can pass the music on to Peter. He’ll handle it," she says, gesturing toward the bar where another man has joined the first. "Follow me to the back—I’ll assign you a locker and show you the staff entrance right away."
Ivy slides off the couch and stands, and I follow her lead toward the dressing rooms. Hopefully, I’ll be safe here for now.