Chapter One

Allegra

24 December

Christmas is the worst time of the year.

Don’t judge me. I have no family. I have no friends. All I have is the Cammareri brothers. But they have their own lives, families, and wives. They don’t owe me anything. They saved me from a fate worse than death and gave me a brand-new life.

They gave me a job and a home of my own.

Most of the time, being on my own doesn’t bother me. Most of the time. But the holidays are hard. It’s no wonder the suicide rate skyrockets at this time of the year. Not that I’m suicidal. I’m just lonely.

Maybe I should go out to a bar? We are closed for the holiday season and will reopen on the twenty-eighth. Four fucking days. I really do need a drink. Moving from the couch where I was lying, trying to convince myself that I would be able to spend the next couple of days binge watching some medical drama, I make my way into my bedroom.

Opening my cupboard, I choose an outfit that highlights my assets—breasts and ass—but doesn’t make me feel like I am trying too hard. The deep red material caresses my skin as I slip into the skintight mini dress. The hem lands just above my knee and doesn’t look nearly as slutty as the other items of clothing in my wardrobe.

I pair it with a set of black heels and a charcoal leather jacket. I pull my onyx hair up into a high ponytail that hangs straight down my back and apply some smokey eye makeup to accentuate the flecks of green in my eyes.

Grabbing my cell phone and keys, I make my way through the closed club to the underground parking. Climbing behind the wheel of my sleek midnight blue BMW M240, I exit the garage and drive east. I know which areas to avoid, especially as a single woman dressed the way I am, so I head to the better part of town. My past has taught me a lot.

Sadly, each of the bars I usually frequent is also currently closed. Which makes sense if I’m being honest, because it’s the damn festive season. I will not be headed to one of the dive bars on the other side of town. Pulling into the parking lot of a drive-thru take away place with good lighting, I retrieve my cell phone from my handbag and search open bars in the area.

I scroll past quite a few before spotting something interesting.

From Dusk Til Dawn is a strip club a town over that is open until four am. I know it is owned by the Gypsy Bastards MC, which makes it an easy decision for me. Putting my car in drive, I follow the GPS directions. Strip clubs don’t bother me. I mean, I manage a brothel. The nice thing about going to a strip club as a customer and a woman is that I never have to worry about men hitting on me or touching me. They tend to leave the female clientele alone unless they want to get their asses kicked.

It only takes twenty minutes to drive to the strip club. Pulling into the paved parking lot, I see quite a few cars and several bikes parked outside.

If a strip club is this busy, I am most definitely not closing down next year. We can always close for a week in August or something to give everyone some time off. What went from me looking for a drink has shifted to me doing some research about whether we should actually be closed at this time of year.

How many people out there feel exactly the same way I do and are simply looking for a way to escape the loneliness they are feeling? This could be something big that I will have to discuss with Alceu in the new year.

Stepping out of my car, I pull my jacket close to fend off the cold wind and hustle my ass over to the door.

A large man with a shaved head and a broad smile welcomes me inside, holding the door open. “Welcome to Dusk,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “Are you here to see Preacher?”

“Preacher?” I ask with a quirk of my brow.

“Sorry,” he says with a blush. “I always assume when a pretty woman shows up here, they’re looking for work.”

“Nope,” I say with a smile, taking pity on him. “I’m just here for a drink. All my regular hang outs are closed for the holidays.”

He nods. “Grab a booth and I’ll get a waitress over to you in a minute.”

Smiling, I pat his arm in thanks before moving away. I walk between the tables, finding a booth halfway to the front of the club before sliding in. A moment later, a pretty African American girl dressed in a purple lingerie set shows up with a big smile.

“Hi, I’m Jewel and I’ll be your waitress.”

“Hi, Jewel,” I reply, enjoying how friendly and welcoming everyone is being. “I’ll have a dirty martini.”

“I’ll get that for you,” she says before letting her glittery stilettos carry her off to the bar.

On the stage, a red head with perfect tits twirls around the pole. One would think with all the men in here she would have their attention, but it seems like most are here to only grab a drink, the same as I am. I watch her for a minute longer before someone comes to a stop beside my booth.

“May I join you?” a deep voice asks, drawing my attention.

“Bishop. What a surprise.”