Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Nox had designed and printed out a few of them after the task force meeting yesterday. He also came up with the fake name of Anthony Allison for Rez, along with the fake business name of Allison Construction. He even set up a free email account for the business and added that, along with Rez’s assigned task force phone number, to the card.
The business cards looked damn good for only taking about twenty minutes to make.
He held out two to Saint, who stared at them for longer than was normal.
“Pass those on to whoever makes your hiring decisions.” Rez smothered his snort. “I’ll guarantee my work, too.”
“You act like I give a fuckin’ damn about any of that shit.”
“You might not, but maybe your leader would.”
“Prez.”
Rez frowned, pretending to act like he knew nothing about MCs. “What?”
“He’s the goddamn president.”
“All right, then give those to your president, will ya?”
Saint’s nostrils flared and he reluctantly took the cards, tucking them inside his cut.
“Could really use the work.”
Saint began to leave again.
So once again, Rez called out, “Hey… one more thing…”
“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”
Shit. “Want to buy a private dance from Sapphire.” He wanted more than that from the woman, but it would be a start.
Saint shook his head. “Get in line. The second she gets off that fuckin’ stage, she’s busy in the VIP rooms. Once those men get a sneak peek, they all want more of that cunt.”
“She ain’t a cunt,” Rez growled, his fingers curling into his palms.
Someone needed a goddamn beatdown and Rez would be glad to serve it, especially after he pulled Finn’s woman out of the club and across the rear parking lot by her hair.
Rez sucked in oxygen instead, since getting into a brawl right now would fuck up his plans. But Saint had it coming to him. Just like T-Bone.
“They’re all cunts.”
To him, no doubt. Because Saint was such a fucking peach.
Rez unlocked his clenched jaws. “I’ll pay double.”
“Didn’t you just say you were fuckin’ broke?”
Damn it, he did. “Can I use plastic for the VIP room? I got some credit.”
“We charge extra for that.”
Of course they did. “Who do I need to talk to to book her?”
“Ringo.”
“Where’s he at?”
Rez looked where Saint pointed. Another prospect stood by the bar where a line had formed.
A fucking line.
“If I pay double, can I get in front of that line?”
“You think that slit’s worth the extra scratch?”
This asshole was really pushing Rez’s patience. “Guess I won’t know that until I get into the VIP room with her.”
Saint tipped his head toward the bar. “Let’s go. I’ll have a word with my man. Gonna cost you.”
Of course it was.
Chapter Four
Sapphire muffled a groan when she stepped out of the dressing room and into the hallway, only to see Saint waiting. She had changed into one of the outfits she normally wore if she was booked solid in the VIP rooms.
“Got a lineup.”
Great. On one hand, she loved the tips from doing private dances, on the other, she was already beat. It was one thing to do only private dances all night, another to do very physical routines on the stage and do private dances for the rest of the night on top of that. “How many?”
“As many as is gonna pay.”
What kind of answer was that? He was such an asshole.
She bit back her sigh. She wished she had the money to become partners with Mel whenever she opened her new club. She needed to get the hell out of The Peach Pit and far away from these Neanderthal bikers.
They overstepped constantly. They couldn’t care less about the girls’ security. And she was damn sure that Cookie was skimming tips from the girls. Whenever the woman was in the club, she gave herself the “helpful” task of collecting the money from the stage once the dancer headed into the dressing room. She’d already been caught pocketing some of it.
If she wasn’t Saint’s ol’ lady, she most likely would have a black eye and some chunks of hair missing. But since she was, she got away with stealing.
“Which room?”
“Start with number two. Soon as you’re done with that sucker, gonna have the next sucker waitin’ in one.”
So, she was going to go back and forth from room to room tonight like a fucking factory line. Great. “Anybody else doing private dances?”
Saint gave her a look that said it all, but he vomited the words anyway. “After you do that fuckin’ routine, you’re the only one they want. Should know that by now.”
She heard the silent “cunt” on the end of that. He might not normally say it to their faces, unless he was pissed, but the dancers overheard him calling them that nasty word on the regular.
Women didn’t mean anything to him unless they put money in his pocket. And sometimes not even then. People with vaginas weren’t human, they were solely assets.