Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

GNAW

The Southern Mafiaare fucking ridiculous. As we pull up to their clubhouse, which is a mansion on the outskirts of Shreveport, there are security cameras all around. There is no way for us to sneak inside, but there is a front door, and I'm not shy.

I would like to have the other men in the club focus on this so I can focus on Kyle and the warehouse shipment schedules. But I'm here, doing this shit with them and putting my life at risk, though it's not much of a risk because I don't give a fuck about these guys.

I'll drop them in an instant, no hesitation.

"I hope they are more reasonable than I've heard rumors of," King mutters beside me.

I chuckle, though I don't look at him. Keeping my gaze forward, I let out a sigh. "I doubt they are. I would guess they're exactly like the rumors say."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking," he grinds out.

Clink, Atomic, King, and I walk up to the house. We've parked our bikes in the circular drive, and I have no doubt they know we're here. They're going to make us walk up the steps, ring the bell, and ask for them.

Because that's what I would fucking do.

Atomic takes the lead. The president should always. He is in charge of this mission, this plan. It's probably a lost cause of a plan, but we're going to try. Because them fucking with Sal now means that they fuck with us.

The door slowly opens, and there is a man in an actual suit who steps to the side. "Please wait here. They will be with you shortly." These assholes have an actual butler.

I almost laugh, but then there is a noise on the staircase, and my brow arches. This is a plantation mansion, with the whole Gone with the Wind staircase and everything. But there are no women in green homemade curtain dresses who walk down.

No, instead, there are women in short skirts and bikini tops waltzing down the staircase. I hold my breath, watching them, wondering where the men are. Then I realize, as they line up and down the staircase, that this is their show.

The Southern Mafia likes to show off, and it's clear they enjoy dramatics. We all stand around in our leather and jeans as the men move down the stairs, walking between the women. One by one, they descend the stairs, the women closing ranks behind them.

It's fucking comical. I think about the clubwhores doing the same, and I have to bite back my laughter. This whole thing is just as ridiculous as the Southern Mafia in general. The leader of the group takes a step forward, his eyes finding Atomic's, and he tilts his head to the side.

"I take it you're the leader of this ragged group?" he asks.

These assholes are all wearing suits, including vests and bow ties. How goddamn ridiculous. I don't think I could think that enough. Jesus Christ. What assholes.

"I'm the president of the Dark Horse MC," Atomic begins. "The main charter."

The idiot in the front lifts his chin, looking down his nose at Atomic, then grunts. "I'm Robert," he states. "And I am the president of the Southern Mafia." He leans over slightly before he continues, "The original charter. But you're here, so you must already know that. However, I do not know why you are here and without an appointment."

"Sal's Bar," Atomic announces.

The asshole has the nerve to arch a brow in what I can only assume is feigned confusion. "What about it?" he asks when Atomic doesn't continue.

"Why are you trying to take it over? Why did you fuck with him?"

Robert takes a step forward, and his men stay where they are behind him, but it is clear they are ready for whatever is going to happen. And if I had to guess, they are waiting with excitement for what could happen—they want something to happen.

"Fuck with him?" Robert asks. "I don't know what you're talking about, exactly. But I do know that we paid his bar a visit the other night, but it was closed."

Closed.

"So, you broke into it?"

"Did we?" Robert asks with a shrug. "I don't remember breaking in and stealing anything."

I want to clarify that nobody said they stole anything, but I stay quiet. This is going to go around and around if someone doesn't stop it soon. I open my mouth to do just that, but Robert continues.

"We did not break into anything. However, you must have a conversation with Sal because I think you're mistaken about his relationship with us."

Atomic lifts his arms, crossing them over his chest as he tilts his head to the side. He is cool as fuck, whereas I'm ready to reach for my gun. This is why he's the president, and I am clearly not. Because I would have walked in here guns blazing without giving a fuck what they had to say about it.

"Enlighten me, then." Atomic"s voice rumbles.

Robert smirks. He clearly thinks this is funny, when it clearly is not that. "Sal promised me a percentage of his business to keep the government off his ass."

"Ha," I bark.

All eyes swing to me, and I almost apologize, but then Robert and his men pull their guns out and point them at us. Fuck. Shit just got real.

I flick my gaze to the women. They are all lined up, watching us with dead-eyed expressions on their faces. They've seen this bit play out before.

"Are you questioning me?" Robert asks, puffing his chest out.

He should be asking that because I am doing just that. I am questioning him. I do not believe him. Sal wasn't lying to us. Sal is a lot of things, but not a liar. He also doesn't need these assholes" protection from any branch of the government. He has his own video footage locked away, with all branches of said government in compromising positions for a rainy day.

"I am," I confirm, taking a step toward him. "I am, indeed."

"Those are words to die by," Robert grinds out.

"I won't be alone in Hell, then. You'll be beside me."

And with that, because of my fucking mouth, the entire plan is shot to complete hell in a handbasket. I should feel guilty, but I don't. Fuck all these assholes and their screaming bitches in the background.

Fuck them all.

I just hope I make it out of this shit alive.

KYLE

Standingin the middle of the parking lot, I face the front door of Sal's and wonder what tonight will bring. I don't even know what my schedule is. I just show up every day and hope Sal will pay me.

I've had more than enough in tips to pay for my room and food every single day since starting at Sal's. I don't want to go anywhere else. This is the best job I've ever had on the run. I just hope Xavier hasn't found me.

I know he will. I should be telling Rider all about my relationship, all about my past, but I just can't seem to do it. I don't know if I will ever be able to admit what I lived through with that man, what I continue to live through.

As much as I want to beg Rider to take care of the situation, to take care of me, and get rid of Xavier, to scare him away forever, I know it's not his responsibility. But at the same time… I'm tired—exhausted, even.

Moving into the bar, I suck in a breath, holding it as I cross the threshold. There is nobody inside. I let the air out in a long exhale as I shift my gaze around, looking for Dennis or Sal, but don't see anyone.

My heart begins to slam against my chest as I move forward. One step after the other. Listening, I try to hear movement anywhere, but there is nothing. I bite the inside of my cheek as I walk farther into the place, and then I make my way down the hallway.

I've never been this far before.

Sal has never let me back this far.

But as I pass his office, I glance into his window. The lights are turned off. Once I reach the end of the hall, I come upon two doors. One on the right and one on the left. I reach for the door on the right, turn the knob, and push it open.

I close my eyes, then open them as I move into the room. It's not exactly what I expected. I don't know what I anticipated, really. I knew it was a strip club, but it's not exactly how I imagined.

It's a big room. There are chairs randomly placed everywhere, scattered throughout the whole space, but that isn't what causes me to pause.

It's the three stages.

I don't even know how three stages could fit into the room. But each stage has a gleaming shiny silver pole. They stand proudly in the otherwise barren room.

Stumbling backward slightly, I turn toward the other room, holding my breath as I open the door. What I see there isn't as exciting as the three stripper poles, but it is nonetheless intriguing.

Gambling.

There are card tables, craps tables, and roulette.

Gambling, stripping, and drinking. I'm not sure what I expected to find in the back rooms. I mean, I knew there were things going on I wasn't told about. I knew there was dancing. Bren and the girls worked back here and were making great money.

I knew what it was. I just didn"t expect this exact scenario.

Something crosses my mind, and my body freezes at the thought. Rider was here doing business with Sal. What the hell kind of business were they doing? And how well does he know the girls?

My stomach twists at the thought of Rider knowing them at all. I don't know why. It's not like I didn't have sex with Xavier in the past. It's not like I'm some innocent virgin. But the thought of the girls I know, knowing any part of him… I hate that.

"What're you doing back here?" a voice booms.

Turning my head, I look over my shoulder, expecting to see Sal or Dennis, but that's not who is standing at the mouth of the hallway. It's a man I don't know. I've never seen him before in my life, but he's standing in the hall wearing a three-piece suit, which strikes me as odd.

This is not right.

This is not right at all.

I open my mouth to tell him just that when he charges toward me.

I'm stuck with nowhere to go.