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Prologue
Samara
Iclockedoutfrommy eight-hour shift at the Gentleman’s Club and counted the tips I made for the night, overly ecstatic that I’d broke over two hundred. Just as soon as I get back home, every bit of it was being stashed away in my money bag with the rest of my cash. I needed to buy a car so I wouldn’t have to ride my fucking bike to get around anymore.
“Hey, Samara, how'd you do tonight?” Ginger, one of the strippers who'd worked the main stage tonight asked, her blue eyes lighting up as she spotted yet another hundred-dollar bill jumbled in with the large stack of money in her hands.
To be clear, I wasn’t a stripper. While the boss-man overly expressed in my interview how he'd love to see me on stage, shaking my ass, stripping wasn’t my cup of tea. I was just a simple servant who brought food and booze to overaged, horny men and the different gangs who liked to spend hours upon hours in here cheating on their wives almost every night. It was a summer job, only temporary until I could finish my senior year and kiss this disgraceful ass city goodbye.
“About two-fifty,” I replied, waving around my pathetic stack of bills before depositing it in my back pocket.
Ginger folded what she could of her currency and tucked it safely away in her baby-blue sequined bra, patting the side of her covered tit as if she were petting a dog’s head.
She was a beautiful woman in her late twenties. With fire red hair, sparkly blue eyes, and a body like a supermodel, Ginger was every man’s wet dream.
Hell, she'd probably be mine too if I’d swung that way.
“You want me to give you a ride tonight? I have to sanitize the stage and clean up a little bit, but it shouldn’t take long. I think your bike will fit in my trunk.”
This is why I loved Ginger so much. From the time I’d started working here, she immediately befriended me. She looked out for me and in a lot of ways, she was like the sister I never had. She knew all of my problems, my struggles, and in my darkest of times she was just always there, unlike a certain someone I’d rather not talk about right now.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
She smiled. “You know I love you. Plus, I really don’t like you riding your bike in the middle of the night, especially with the gangs roaming around. Here…”
She dug into the other side of her bra and yanked out a set of keys.
“You know which car is mine. Go ahead and load up your stuff and come help me finish getting this place cleaned up so we can get the fuck out of here.”
“Fine by me.”
I plucked the keys from her hand and stalked towards the emergency exit leading to the back alley where I kept my bike hidden behind the dumpsters. If I’d left it out front, it probably would’ve been stolen well before the end of my shift. Storm Ridge Valley wasn’t that bad of a place to live, but the downtown side, where unfortunately the Gentlemen’s Club was located and where I’d grown up, was infected with uninterrupted crime. If you heard gunshots, which was a steady reoccurring thing especially around this time of night, you better fucking run and hide.
If not, well, us law-abiding citizens who were just trying to get home safely to our families could end up being on the receiving end of those bullets.
I pushed open the back door and grabbed ahold of my bike after squeezing my tiny frame behind the dumpsters. As I peeked my head out and cautiously glanced left to right, I blew out a sigh of relief.
The coast was clear.
A moment or two later I made it to Ginger's SUV and popped the trunk, letting out a grunt as I lifted my old and rusted, piece of shit bike and carefully deposited it inside. When that small task was handled, I quickly raced back to the alley and re-entered the building, finding Ginger waiting on me with a large basket full of cleaning supplies.
About thirty minutes later we were finished and headed for the door right after Ginger had finished throwing her clothes on, freezing in our tracks as Damien, the owner of the club, called out to us. I didn’t have to look at Ginger to know she was quivering beside me.
Together we slowly turned to face him, and I gulped as his dark, menacing eyes flicked between the two of us. Standing at six-foot-two, over two-hundred and fifty pounds, shredded with layers upon layers of pure-hard muscle, Damien Reyez was a force to be reckoned with. Not only was he the head honcho of the Gentlemen’s Club, but he was also the leader of one of the most feared gangs in Storm Ridge Valley, the Carnaged Outlaws. Jace Reyez, his twenty-one-year-old son and also one of the bouncers for the club, was standing right beside him.
Fuck me.
I blew out a breath as I took in Jace's overwhelming presence, quickly averting my gaze when he caught me staring at him. He was fire in all caps and he fucking knew it. Women melted at the sight of him, including me.
Dark hair. Piercing green eyes. A mouth-watering chiseled body he purposely flaunted by wearing tank tops that were way too fucking tight for his stacked frame. I fantasized about biting his abs plenty of times but he never knew it.
And he never would.
Jace was in line to take over for Damien one day. My life was already fucked up as it is. I wasnotabout to get myself tangled up in that dangerous web.
“Ginger, may we have a moment of privacy?”
Ginger gulped, and I saw her eyes expand ten sizes from the corner of my eye.
