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However, the man’s hands were not where they should be... kept to himself. Hell no, they were pawing Phire’s ass and edging too close to her tits.
Finn took a little detour from his path to the bar to swing by the table.
He paused only long enough for him to ask Sapphire, “You good?” and receive a thankful nod and a widening of her manufactured smile in answer.
He nodded back and continued on his trek, his attention now pinned on the man with narrowed dark eyes watching him approach.
“What’re you doin’ interferin’ with my girls?”
First off, they’re not your fucking girls, you motherfucker. They’re loyal to Mel. Those words cut like razor blades when Finn swallowed them down and said instead, “Wasn’t interfering. I just wanted to say hello.”
“Won’t take me much to ban your ass from this club.”
“I can’t say hello?”
“You can fuckin’ say goodbye.”
Finn tipped his head toward the stage. “Just here to watch the show and wait for my woman to finish her shift so I can take her home.”
Saint sneered. The man was in desperate need of a dentist. “Could also pick her the fuck up outside.”
“I could, but I planned on spending some money in here tonight. Got a problem with that?” He turned to Mutt to prove his point. “Give me two fingers of your best bourbon, neat.”
The wet-behind-the-ears biker most likely didn’t know what the fuck a good bourbon was or how much two fingers were. He probably only knew Boone’s Farm and toilet bowl moonshine. Why he was in charge of the damn bar, Finn couldn’t fathom. Definitely not a smart business decision.
But then, he doubted Saint and the Demons cared about the actual business. It was only a front for their real money-making enterprise.
Finn threw a ten spot on the bar after Mutt dropped off a glass of amber liquid over ice. Christ, the fucker didn’t even know what “neat” meant.
He sighed, took a sip to test to see just how “top shelf” the liquor was, then met Saint’s eyes. “Need a word.”
The Demon’s eyebrows rose in a “are you fucking kidding?” type of way. “Standin’ here. Say your piece.”
“Want me to say what I have to say in front of your lackey?”
With a grumble, Saint sent Mutt to the other end of the bar, just out of earshot. “Start talkin’ now ‘cause I’m already fuckin’ bored with this conversation.”
Dick.
Finn leaned in to make sure Saint heard him clearly. “I don’t like how tired my woman is. Don’t like fucking a damn wash rag because she’s too exhausted to participate. Cookie needs to be replaced if she can’t do her damn job. It’s unfair to MJ to force her to work doubles several nights a week just because your ol’ lady doesn’t want to show up and pull her weight. If she can’t do her damn job, find someone else who can. Or put Sapphire in that position, instead.”
“Didn’t hear the little blonde bitch fuckin’ complain’.”
Finn’s nostrils flared and he barely managed to keep his fists at his sides. But he wasn’t sure how long that might be possible. He unlocked his jaws to say, “That’s because she’s not sleeping in your bed. Unlike mine.”
“She can come to me if she got a problem with it.”
“I’m coming to you. I’m her fucking man,” Finn growled, slapping a hand to his chest.
Saint stared at him with his lips pursed. “Thinkin’ you need to stay the fuck outta this club. Stickin’ your nose in shit you got no goddamn business gettin’ involved with. Distractin’ my manager when you’re here, too. Not good for business.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not good for business… You banning me from this club. If I go, she goes, because I’m taking her with me. Then you can explain to whoever you answer to why the club’s going under because of bad management. MJ’s worth her weight in gold and you know it. You just don’t care or want to admit it.”
His eyes narrowed even further until they were barely slits. “Know what she’s worth. But she’s worth even more naked and bouncin’ on someone’s lap—” he leaned in until he was almost nose to nose with Finn, “other than yours—than wanderin’ around with a dress on.”
A burn filled Finn’s chest. “Like I said, without her this club will end up closing its doors. And I doubt you want that.” Then there goes your front, you asshole. “Starting tonight, she leaves at the end of her shift, whether your ol’ lady’s here or not. If MJ wants to work longer hours, that’ll be her choice,” Finn caught Saint’s eyes and held them when he leaned across the bar to finish with, “not yours.”
Saint lifted one thick dark eyebrow. “Thought you just fuckin’ said it’s yours. Your woman, your rules, right?”
“Now you’re getting it. I’m the only one with a say in what she does. We got plans tonight, so make sure Cookie’s here before seven. If she’s not, that’s your problem, not MJ’s.” Finn swiped his drink off the bar and swallowed the remaining bourbon before slamming the glass back down. He glanced over at Mutt and pointed to his empty glass. Once the prospect grabbed it and slipped away, Finn turned his focus back on Saint. “Just need to know you heard me loud and clear.”
