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Every chair around the stage has an ass in the seat. Men in business suits, men in jeans and work boots, a few cowboys in ten-gallon hats, and boys sporting college sweatshirts. All types stop in to give their hard-earned cash away.
“Guess they pick up as the night goes on,” Dex says.
“Guess so.” I slap his shoulder. “What was that, back there? Were you itching to get into a fight with him?”
“No, brother. Trying to play a little bad cop to your good.”
“Bullshit.”
He shrugs. “It pisses me off that he’s acting so casual about the girls he makes money off of.”
“I feel you.” I glance behind us to make sure no one’s within earshot. “Are you also concerned he’s taking such a slow approach?”
“Fuck yeah. Unless he really doesn’t think Black Venom is that big of a threat. Maybe we’re just twitchy because we’ve dealt with shit from the Vipers and know how bad it can get.”
“Maybe.” I’m still pondering whether or not to give Priest all the details of our visit. I’m not asking Dex for his opinion on that. I’ve involved him enough. No reason to stick him in an even more awkward position. That’s what Jiggy’s for.
“You guys ready to bail?” I stop in front of our table and meet my brothers’ eyes. Steer and Pants are wasted. Trent’s still flirting with one of the dancers—gonna take a guess that his wallet’s empty.
I check the table again. “Where’s Dawson?”
“Still back there.” One of his roadies points toward the champagne rooms.
Fuck. I lift my chin at Jiggy and slide out of the booth.
“Wrath? Watch Shelby for me?”
He nods.
Steer stumbles out of his chair. “You need me?”
“We’ll see. Hang tight.”
The guy working the entrance to the back area isn’t a brother. At least he’s not wearing our colors. He holds out his hand as if he’s expecting something. “Need a credit card to get back there.”
“Like fuck I do. Where’s the guy who’s with our party?”
“He’s busy.”
His smirky attitude works my last nerve and I snap, grabbing him by his shirt and jamming him against the wall. “Do you really want to fuck with me? You work for my club.”
“Spit it out, needle-dick,” Jigsaw growls.
“Room four.”
I release him and he brushes off his shirt. “I’m calling Digger.”
“Be my guest.” Unless he’s ready to retire from this Earth, there’s no way Digger’s gonna side with an employee over one of his brothers.
I push open the door to room four and stop to absorb what’s in front of me.
Three girls in lingerie. Two of them are laughing, talking, and sipping champagne. The other one’s tucked in the corner with her knees up to her chin and arms wrapped around her legs, looking miserable as hell. Dawson’s unconscious on the couch.
Fucking great.
I recognize the scam they’re running. Can’t believe Digger lets this shit go on in his club. Half a dozen strip clubs on the East Coast have been raided by the FBI and shut down after pulling this stunt. Digger has to know this is exactly the kind of attention Priest doesn’t want. Unless he really has no idea what goes on in his house. Can’t decide which is worse.
Doesn’t matter.
The girls jump up and try to run out of the room but Jiggy blocks their escape, backing them into the corner. “Sit your asses down,” he orders.
I squat down next to Dawson and slap his cheek. “Hey, buddy. Time to wake up.” Can’t tell if he’s drunk or drugged unconscious. His wallet’s half sticking out of his back pocket. I pull it out and thumb through it. Empty. Looks like at least one credit card is missing.
“What’d you give him?” I yell at the girls.
“Nothing!” The tall, dark-haired one shouts. “He just passed out.”
“Sure he did.” I nod to Jiggy. “They emptied his wallet.”
“Hell no, we didn’t,” the short blonde screeches. “He tipped us nicely.”
“Shut up,” the third girl whines.
Jiggy stares the three of them down. “Don’t make me search you. It won’t be pleasant,” he warns.
The blonde backs up to a small black velvet ottoman that’s hard to even make out in the dark.
“Don’t,” the brunette warns.
“Bitch, I will turn you over to the cops so fast your fake fuckin’ titties will leak out your nipples.” Jiggy stalks even closer until they’re pressed up to the wall. “Stop playin’.”
I shake my head and return my attention to Dawson, figuring Jiggy can handle the girls. “Dawson? Come on, buddy.” I haul him upright and he groans. Thank fuck. Last thing I want to do is call an ambulance and bring more fucking attention to the situation.
“Here!” the other brunette yells. “I didn’t wanna do it in the first place. They made me!” She flings the top of the ottoman open and reaches inside.
“You bitch!” the blonde screeches, attacking the other girl.
