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“Another two bite the dust,” Boulder teased, waving at one of the nymphs. “I don’t know about you, but I’m just drunk enough to want a lap dance.” He waved a twenty-dollar bill at the brunette, and she wasted no time earning it.
“You think Nikita’s giving lap dances over at the Rusty Cantina?”
The gulp of beer somehow lodged in Kevlar’s throat. He coughed and pounded on his chest, glaring at Rubble across the table. “Fuck off.”
Rubble smirked. “What? Just wondering how that ass would look shaking in my face.”
Kevlar licked his bottom lip and shook his head. “Keep going, tough guy, see where that gets you.”
“Oh, please. We scuffled enough times overseas. You know I’ll kick your ass.”
Brewer chose that moment to arrive with shots of whiskey. “Now a good time?”
“Not really, but we’ll take them,” Boulder said, edging closer to the dancing nymph. He playfully swatted her ass.
Three more nymphs headed toward the back of the bar, Macha’s domain. The residents of Snowshoe knew better than to cross into that territory. While the club didn’t condone ill-treatment of anyone, things happened after a few rounds of Guinness.
Snoopy arrived with his old lady, Legs, clinging to his left arm. “Klink, somebody’s at the tattoo shop asking for you.”
The other man grunted and made his way through the dimly lit bar to the attached tattoo parlor.
“Who was it?” Boulder asked.
Sitting, Snoopy pulled Legs onto his lap. “Some chick from town.” He shrugged. “Had a fine pair of tits, but that was about it.”
Legs downed two shots of whiskey and rolled her eyes.
Kevlar barely knew the woman, but the one thing he knew, she rarely let Snoopy out of sight for long. The duo was practically glued to each other unless they were fighting, which was a daily occurrence too.
“So, you gonna get a lap dance from your girl, Kev?”
Narrowing his eyes, Kevlar sent a silent warning to his friend. The fucker just wouldn’t let the subject die. The idea that Kita probably was shaking her ass for Cutthroat scum messed with his mind, but he wasn’t about to let his brothers see how it affected him.
“Nah, got plenty of girls here.” He waved at a redheaded nymph, and she started swaying to the beat of the country song, her teeny waist in his face. “See? Don’t need to go anywhere else.”
Rubble downed another shot and stood. His hulking stature drew more than one eye toward their group of bikers. It wasn’t difficult to do. With tattoos covering his bald head and standing at six feet, six inches, body stacked in muscles, and a long beard, no one would think twice about fucking with him.
“Maybe you don’t, but I think I’ll head over to the Rusty Cantina and see what the Cutthroats have to offer.” He winked at a nymph. “Obviously not as good as our girls, but I like to see all my options.”
Boulder and Snoopy nodded in agreement, but Kevlar couldn’t.Not a chance in hell.He finished his drink and caught up to Rubble. “I’ll make sure you get there okay,” he said.
“Sure, you will.” Rubble slung an arm around his shoulder. By the time they drove to Waverley, the place was packed. With cheap drinks and even cheaper women, the bar brought in the worst clientele of the city.
Kevlar found a booth near the side door, an urge to smoke hitting him the instant they set foot inside. Rubble chatted up the bartender, buying drinks and flirting with any woman willing to listen.
Switching his focus, Kevlar watched the Cutthroat dolls mill about the busy bar. He’d seen a few around town and even in Snowshoe, but there were more new ones. A leggy woman stepped out from behind the curtained off area, and a lump rose in his throat.Kita.
She was sex on heels with her fishnet stockings, low cut green tank, and black mini skirt. His pulse quickened the longer he watched her flirt with the patrons. None of them deserved even a millisecond of her time, but she handed it out anyway.
The shorter woman with her the other night wasn’t far behind Kita. She was a knockout too, but he only had eyes for Kita. The dolls dispersed into the throng, laughter prominent alongside squeals from the women.
His gut pitched at the thought of Kita being touched by another man. Shaking his head, he cursed himself. She wasn’t his. She’d barely been his in the first place. He took the drink Rubble offered and turned away from the crowd. Skulking in his rum and Coke would have to do for the night. He’d sure as hell be going back to Booze and Tattoos for a nymph, though. If he couldn’t have who he wanted, he’d numb his mind and body with someone else.
“How long you gonna wait to get that dance?” Rubble asked, humor lining his deep voice.
“Fuck off. I’m here to make sure you don’t get in too deep.” He met his friend’s gaze. “Macha doesn’t need to stir the pot with the Cutthroats right now.”
Rubble smoothed a hand over his beard. “That much I know.” He chuckled. “I’m the goddamn sergeant, boyo,” he said with a fake Irish lilt.
