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“None of your fucking business,” I retort, not in the mood to share. Not that I would, even if I was. What happens between me and Kate stays between us.
“Is that boyfriend of hers, Hudson, causing shit again?” Dom asks.
“He’s not her fucking boyfriend!” I snap, shoving open the door to Carter’s private booth.
His head snaps around. “Do you fucking mind?”
“Apologies, boss,” Dom replies, side-eying me when I don’t say a word.
“Is he here yet?” Carter asks, turning his attention back to the curvaceous blonde who’s currently lying on a round bed covered in pristine white sheets getting railed by a redhead wearing a strap-on.
“I thought he’d be here already,” I reply, taking a seat on one side of the door as Dom takes the other, completely distracted by the show.
“Fuck me,” Dom mutters, his eyes glued to the women. “Those two ain’t mucking about!”
Not that the women are paying us any fucking attention, and why would they? We might be able to see them, but they can’t see us. Privacy of the patrons attending The Crib Club is paramount and we’re watching behind two-way glass.
“He was supposed to be here half an hour ago. As were you,” Carter says, twisting in his swivel chair to face me. “Was Grim giving you trouble?”
“Not in the slightest. There was traffic. Accident on the motorway.”
He nods, narrowing his eyes at me as though he reads the lie written in neon across my face. “She’s not been getting up to any shit, has she? You know what I said, she needs to remain—”
“Yeah. All good in that department,” I quickly cut in.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Dom frown. He’s no idea we’re talking about Kate’s virginity and the fact her dad’s weirdly obsessed with it as of late. Not sure what’s up with that, but it’s a big fucking red flag if you ask me.
“Good,” Carter replies with a terse nod before turning back to watch the women fuck. “Because if I were to find out that my daughter was whoring herself out, there’d be hell to fucking pay, but not before I chopped off the dick of the motherfucker fooling around with her and fed it to him.”
I meet Dom’s gaze and the way he looks at me is a cross between incredulity and concern. Despite all the ribbing, I’m pretty sure he knows how I really feel about Kate, even though I deny it on a regular basis. The sheer fact he’s not given me away tells me a lot about him. Joey was right, he is one of the good ones.
Giving him a minute shake of my head, I stare at the back of Carter’s head and say, “Don’t worry boss, I’d have the prick hung, drawn and quartered before you even had a chance to chop off his dick.”
Dom smirks knowingly.
“Glad to hear it,” Carter replies, grabbing his drink from the side table beside him and taking a sip.
After another half an hour of watching Carter eyeball the two women fucking, I become a little restless. Sitting in a locked room whilst my boss rubs his cock over his trousers isn’t my idea of a fun night out, no matter how much I’m getting paid.
“You want me to go see if the King’s arrived yet?” I ask, ready to fucking bolt.
“Yeah, and bring me another Jack and Coke whilst you're at it,” he replies with a distracted wave of his hand.
Dom swallows a smile, knowing full well I ain’t happy about being the fucking waitress, but I take it on the chin and step outside the booth into the club that’s ten times as busy as it was when I first arrived.
Heading to the bar, I scoot around the edge of the dance floor, glancing around the space for any obvious cause for concern. No matter what I’m doing, or where I am, I’ve got my radar whirring. I can sense trouble a mile off, and can normally pinpoint someone out of place within a few seconds. It’s a force of habit, and whilst I told Kate that I always wanted to be a professional boxer, I always knew that I had a gift for sniffing out trouble. It’s that gift that has me bypassing the bar and heading towards a dark corner of the club where two familiar figures are standing in an alcove, deep in conversation.
It ain’t easy to hide a physique as big as mine. I stand out like a sore thumb for the most part, but I use the dim lighting and throng of people to my advantage and get close enough to make out the King and Rodriguez deep in conversation.
With my back pressed against the wall, I listen.
“Are you certain everything’s in place?” the King asks.
“We’re good to go. No problems on that front,” Rodriquez replies.
“Good. Won’t be long now until I get my hands oneverythingthat I want.”
They fall silent, and when a flirtatious female voice starts talking I take that as my cue to leave. I knew that motherfucker was up to something, and I’m going to take great pleasure in ending the bastard, but the cherry on the cake is Rodriguez signing his death warrant.
