Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MILLIE
Tugging my hoodie on over my head, I turn away from the mirror at my station, then hitch my duffel over my shoulder and head toward the door.
The room is empty.
I’m the last one here, and I don’t know why I dawdled so much tonight. I should have been the first one out, running home to Axton, but I took my sweet time, and I don’t even know why.
I flick the switch off and slip out of the room. I feel not just tired, but bone tired. Maybe that’s why I’m being slow. My body feels like I’m moving through molasses. I don’t know how I made it tonight.
By the second show, I wasn’t as scared any longer, but now that I’m finished, it’s hitting me all at once. The reality of the night. I can’t believe I got up there and danced. I can’t believe I stood on that dark stage. I guess I shouldn’t be scared. Dante is gone, and so is his accomplice, Anna.
I still can’t believe she did all of that. That she could look me in the face and do what she did. Part of her job was to protect the dancers, and she was willing to give up my life for an orgasm. That type of betrayal is beyond anything and everything I could ever fathom.
As I walk out onto the floor, I see Heidi waiting for me. She’s standing next to a Vicious Reaper I don’t recognize. Not that I know every man down at the clubhouse, but I feel like I know most of them, or at least recognize them.
She flicks her eyes to meet mine, then I watch as she tilts her head to the side toward the man standing beside her. I can’t read the expression on her face, but I shift my attention toward the man.
“This is Scar,” she says, her lips smiling.
Oh… okay, now I understand the expression. She thinks he’s cute, and upon further investigation, I can agree.
He’s cute.
Really cute.
He jerks his chin toward me. He’s probably in his mid-thirties.
He’s definitely younger than Axton and, therefore, younger than Heidi, too.
He’s standing just a little too close to Heidi, but I can tell it doesn’t bother her.
She likes it, and I wonder if she’s going to make a move with that.
I wouldn’t blame her. I mean, she’s single, and she’d probably have fun.
“Scar is going to be our protection for the foreseeable future. Bullet was here and let me know, but he had to go home,” Heidi states.
I’m surprised he didn’t talk to me, and I don’t even know this guy. With his age, he would have been part of the club when I was last here, but I have no clue who he is. I start to say just that when Scar explains his situation.
“I was a nomad for a while. I’ve been at a few different clubs. I’ve been called in to help while everything with… well, everything gets sorted. An extra set of hands.”
“That carries a gun and is wrapped in leather,” Heidi adds.
Oh god.
She does like him.
Thankfully, that ends the conversation, and the three of us walk out of the club. Bennet calls out a good night, and I wave to him, but I don’t even know if I can trust him or not.
Anna was his right-hand person.
She did everything around this place—managed the women, managed the club, the bartenders, and used to manage the bouncers before the Vicious Reapers took that over. I’m not sure how he didn’t know that she was easily manipulated, or didn’t give a fuck about protecting the women.
It feels weird to just blindly believe that he wasn’t involved at all. I know there’s no evidence that he is involved, but I think at this point, actions are going to mean everything, and I’m going to have to just wait it out.
“I’ll follow you girls back to the apartment,” Scar announces.
Pressing my lips together, I look at Heidi, then back to Scar. “I’m going back to the clubhouse,” I simply state. It’s a fact, not a suggestion. I am going back to my man. My man, who could have died.
Scar blinks then shakes his head once, clearly not liking my statement, before he speaks. “Not at this hour. You both need your rest before you work again tomorrow. I got your schedule.”
I almost laugh in his face, but decide against it. I don’t even know this man, and I’m not going to stand outside a strip club arguing with him about going back to Axton. I’m almost thirty years old, and he’s not going to tell me what to do. I don’t care how immature that sounds.
I inhale a deep breath and hold it for a moment before I let it out slowly and tell Scar exactly how this is going to go.
“Scar, I’m sorry, but if I only go to the clubhouse when I don’t work, I’ll only see Axton for maybe a day, if I’m lucky.
That doesn’t work for me, and I know for a fact it won’t work for Axton, either. ”
Scar looks at me, then flicks his gaze over to Heidi. I expect and brace for a full-blown argument, but instead, he takes his phone out of his pocket. Then he punches his index finger against the screen, and I hear the phone ringing.
“Piggy,” Axton’s voice greets.
I almost sigh in relief at the sound of his voice as it reaches my ears.
He’s okay. He sounds fine, a little rough but otherwise okay.
That makes me feel a bit more at ease, but it doesn’t take away the fact that I want to be with him.
Beside him. On top of him. Consuming him the way he consumes me.
“You’re on speaker. I got Heidi and Millie here. Millie doesn’t want to go to the apartment tonight.”
There is a moment of silence before Axton speaks, and I don’t fully like what he has to say, but it’s good enough… I guess.
“Mill?” Axton calls out
“I’m here.”
“Go ahead and go to the apartment tonight. I’ll come tomorrow. I got a few more days off work before I need to go in, so I’ll pack a bag and stay with you. Scar is going to sleep on the couch tonight, though.”
I flick my attention to Scar, who just jerks his chin and thankfully doesn’t gloat.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur.
Axton tells me to get some good sleep, and he’ll be at my place soon, before we even wake up to get ready for work. My belly dips, and my pussy clenches, because I know what that means.
I’m going to be sore again… and I can’t wait.
PIGGY
“Did you find anything on him?” I ask as Bullet walks into the room.
I’m leaning against the headboard, wearing only athletic shorts and resting my pounding head when Bullet makes his way inside. I need to know what the fuck is going on and if it really was Garcia who tried to kill me the way I suspect.
“We got his ex-old lady in custody.”
Oh fuck.
My lips twitch into a smirk. “What are we going to do to her?”
Bullet shrugs a shoulder. I know he’s not going to hurt her just to hurt her. That’s not who we are as a club. But I also know that if Garcia is trying to pull some shit, I’m going to use the one thing I have against him, which will keep him in line.
“I brought her in so you could talk to her. Past that, I’m not going to tell you what to do. But we can figure out the next step after a discussion with her.”
Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I slowly rise to my feet. I feel a bit woozy, likely just because I’ve been in bed for more hours the past couple of days than I’ve ever stayed in bed before.
“Let me throw on some clothes,” I mutter.
Bullet doesn’t ask me if I need help, doesn’t ask me if I’m okay, and I am good with that. He knows it would be embarrassing as fuck for me if I couldn’t dress myself. I was hit over the head. It’s not like I was shot or anything.
And even if I were, I don’t think I would ask for help from him… or anyone, except maybe Millie, and that’s only because I’d be trying to get in her panties.
Ignoring my splitting headache, I tug on a pair of jeans, slip my feet into boots, and grab my cut that’s hanging from the back of the doorknob. I don’t bother with a shirt. I don’t think I could handle anything actually touching my head right now.
I jerk my chin toward Bullet before I follow him out of the room. The clubhouse is fairly quiet, most of the guys being at the Gilded Room to offer extra security for Millie, just in case this fuck attempts to go after her.
We eliminated one threat just to face another one practically the next fucking day. Although that’s been about the way of it here lately. Since we lost Shade, really. We enjoyed a lot of years with minimal bullshit, so I guess we’re making up for it now.
I push thoughts of everything else out of my head as we walk down the hallway. I need to focus on the task at hand, which is finding out everything I need to nail Garcia’s balls to the fucking ground.
And I will.
Bullet opens a door and stands to the side. I walk through and make my way into the room. She’s there, sitting on a chair, tied to it. She looks scared as fuck, but she’s unharmed and alive.
“What do you want with me?” she grinds out, demanding some answers.
Good for her.
She’s tough. I guess she’d have to be to survive Garcia, since he’s a gigantic piece of shit.
My lips twitch into a smirk. I walk over to the wall, then shift so my back is leaning against it for support. Bending my knee, I place my foot flat against the wall for a little extra assistance as I tilt my head to the side and watch her.
I’m going to make Garcia wish like hell that he didn’t come for me. I’m going to make him fucking beg on his hands and knees for mercy.