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“Swayze,” I threw back, confusing every other man at the table.
“Boys, this is Missy,” he announced, surprising me for a second, given I was only meant to be there to serve drinks and dance.
But he continued to introduce me to the men at the table—Bishop, the club’s president, and Blue and Cain, Sergeant-at-Arms and Road Captain, respectively.
Blue took a new beer, the rest looked for something a little harder. “I’ll get rid of these, then be back with a bottle and some glasses for you guys.”
Bishop nodded. “’Preciate it.”
The night passed quickly. Gem and I danced twice on the makeshift stage they’d whipped together before returning to serve drinks a lot faster given everyone was a great deal more fucking drunk than they’d been at the beginning of the night. I was heading outside when a hand tickled my bare waist, almost earning the owner a slap in the face.
“When you’re done with these, come have a drink with me,” Hawk murmured, leaning into me, his lips barely brushing my ear.
“I’m working,” I argued, though even I knew it sounded pathetic.
“And I hired you. So, I say it’s okay.” The low rasp of his voice sent another shudder through me, his fingers pinching at my waist, no doubt fucking loving the response he had on my damn body. “Come find me.”
“That an order or a request?” I teased, slipping away from him with a grin. “Because, just a hint, I don’t do well with orders.”
I thought I’d won that battle, but as I turned to walk away, all I heard was, “We’ll see about that.”
And I knew I was in trouble.
So much fucking trouble.
And I hated just how much that excited me.
Eagerly, I moved through the groups of people outside, quickly trying to get rid of the drinks on my tray.
“Hey, sweet cheeks!”
Before I could even turn to find the owner of the snarky, chauvinistic taunt, a hand struck my ass—hard. Every muscle in my body tightened as I fought through the sting, knowing there would be a huge mark left there, if not a bruise. I should have been used to it by now, but as the pain radiated through me, I had to grit my teeth.
“How ’bout you come sit with us for a minute?”
My free hand curled into a fist, the urge to swing almost overwhelming me even though the blur of tears that had formed in my eyes would’ve made my aim not so fucking great.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d leveled a guy who’d gotten too handsy.
Working at a strip club on the wrong side of town meant a lot of drunk bastards thought you were specifically there for them to fondle. Occasionally, I had to take things into my own hands before one of the few security guards could get to me.
But unfortunately, now wasn’t the time or place to throw my weight around. Given that within the clubhouse gates, I was an employee, and the guy whose hand was currently imprinted on my damn ass cheek was apparently an employee of the club. Their shirts announced that they were security for the sports bar, Backroad.
I knew I didn’t have to put up with being abused or treated like shit, but I also learned a long time ago that sometimes it was better to keep my mouth shut and show some respect to people in more important positions.
Just walk away.
Clearing my throat, I turned, purposely taking a step back, trying to put some distance between Mr. Handsy and me. “Sorry, boys, I have work to do,” I sang, putting on a façade and forcing my voice a couple of octaves higher.
I leaned forward, gathering a handful of empty beer bottles off the picnic table they were sitting at, trying my best to ignore the way they were eyeing me. Like coyotes looking to rip into me and tear off whatever they could sink their teeth into—including my self-respect.
A shudder rolled through me, and I stumbled back, the strange sensation not one I had received so far that night. Everyone had been polite and courteous to the other girls around the clubhouse and me. This group of guys, though, had me wanting to back away slowly.
Mr. Handsy’s eyes dipped, following the curves of my body to my knee-high black boots. “What a shame,” he announced over the music thumping from the clubhouse speaker system and grinning as he picked up a cigar from the table and placed it between his lips, lighting the end. “I have a lot of dollar bills.”
He sucked on the cigar, the lit end coming alive with sparkling embers as he pulled the smoke into his mouth, and then, like the fuck boy he was, he pulled the cigar from his lips and held my gaze, blowing the stupid stream of smoke right at my damn face. It burned my eyes, and I pinched them closed, trying to let it waft away.
I should’ve walked then, especially when another shudder rippled upward through my body, sending a wave of goose bumps over my skin. His friends chortled loudly, the four of them throwing their heads back and cackling like damn hyenas.
