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“No thanks. My ride is on the way,” I reiterated, inching back as slowly as possible.
“Serenity! Oh man, you're one of my favorites,” he said as his voice lifted a little.
“I appreciate you stopping, but I’m good,” I state politely trying to infuse some firmness in my tone.
“I just want to help you, sweetheart.”
Before I could speak the sound of a car approaching had us both looking past his truck. I’ve never been so happy to see another human as I was when the vehicle pulled to the side of the road behind the guy’s truck.
“Yo, you, okay?” Miles asked louder than he needed to as he and Amanda came to stand beside me. I wanted to grab them both in a big bear hug.
The man stood watching us. The silence was awkward.
“Thanks again for stopping. I am all set now.”
“Alright, if you’re sure,” the man got back in his truck and pulled away.
“I’m so happy to see you guys!” I shouted out in relief and hugged them both.
“Did you know that guy?” Amanda asked.
Amanda stood barely five feet, with long reddish-brown hair down to the top of her waist. Miles, her boyfriend, towered over her at 6’3 and a wall of muscle from playing basketball in college.
“No, but he recognized me from the club,” I said as a chill raced up my spine.
I’ve been a stripper for the last couple of years. It wasn’t my favorite thing, but it damn sure beat drowning in student loan debt, especially since I had two more years to get my Doctor of Physical Therapy. Most guys were harmless, but every so often you’d get a guy who’d give off a creepy vibe, who didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. The owners at the club were pretty sleazy, but one thing they didn’t skimp on was the security staff. Out here, alone, had my hackles up. Who could be sure who was nice or not these days?
“So, what do you want to do with your car?” Miles asked.
“I’ll just get it towed later. Let’s get going. My gut was screaming that guy was a creeper.” I said, grabbing Amanda’s hand.
“I wish you didn’t drive home so late,” Amanda said. We’d had this discussion more than once. She understood why I danced, but she wasn’t a fan of the late hours or that I spent so much time traveling alone. It never crossed my mind that it would be a problem, until tonight.
I squeezed her hand as we walked back to Miles’ Jeep.
“You ever take a self-defense class, Sutton?” Miles asked.
“No, but maybe I need to.”
“I can show you both some stuff, but a real class would do y'all good,” Miles said as he swooped Amanda up into his arms, spinning her.
The gesture broke the tension, and I was thankful for it. Watching the two of them together always made my heart happy even if I was often jealous as shit.
As I got into the back, tears sprung to my eyes, and I whisper, “thank you, guys, for coming to get me.”
“Always,” Amanda smiled as she turned to look at me.
CHAPTER 2
Storm
Clyde’s was a hole-in-the-wall bar that served as neutral ground in Mercy and its surrounding towns. The only real competition to our business was the one other strip club, Sailor Gentlemen’s Club. There was a marine base less than 30 miles inland and a big army base 70 miles to the North. So, between locals, the military, and tourists, we had a viable market for customers wanting their few minutes of fantasy and flesh.
Daredevil sat across from me in rumpled clothes and his Miscreant Brothers MC cut. Looking like it had gone through a spin cycle. His hair was greasy and uncombed. Rumor was the Miscreants were down on their luck. Some bad business ventures had them in debt and their strip club was the only collateral they had left. He was lucky his old man had bought the club outright back in the day. Daredevil was a stocky motherfucker. His brown hair was starting to pepper with gray around the sides of his head. The satisfied expression on his face and the gleam in his eye told me all I needed to know. We were playing Poker and it was either sink or swim.
“I raise,” I said as I tossed down five $1000 chips.
Daredevil looked at his chips and frowned. I was a bastard knowing he’d never be able to match it.
