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I smirked. “Dumbass question. Clearly, I’m asking.”
She smiled at the response, giving a sardonic laugh. “Well, you’ve got the look and the bitch attitude of a seasoned dancer.” She pulled out a rag from her back pocket and began wiping down the counter. “You want up tonight, I’m guessing?” All I gave her was a quick nod. “You can go up—your job to work it out with the girls where you fit in the lineup. The house gets twenty percent before you leave tonight.” She looked me over again. “This is a biker-owned club, girl, so don’t even think about stiffing them. Otherwise, they will take other forms of payment you may not be willing to give,” she said, her voice much lower than it had been.
Yeah, that’s not fucking ominous.
“Got it. Where’s the dancers’ room?” I asked, looking around and clocking all the exits and doors in case I needed to make use of any of them.
She gestured. “Over to the left of the stage. You do laps or privates?” she asked, pouring three shots and placing them on a tray.
Private dances here were probablyverydifferent thanwhat I’d become used to since working at Lotería, but they would allow me an opportunity to get closer to some of these guys. I was good at getting men to let their guard down and talk to me.
“Yeah, I do that. But I wanna pick the ones I do,” I said, staring her down to make sure she knew I meant business.
“How long you been dancing?”
“Long enough.” She didn’t seem offended when I didn’t offer up any more information on myself—probably used to it. From what I’d heard of this club, no one stayed too long, and most were running from something. Or someone. I quirked an eyebrow as she shoved the tray of whiskey toward me.
“I’m guessing those aren’t all for me,” I said.
The club manager smirked. “Look at that, pretty and smart. They’re gonna hate you.”
“The men or the women?” I shot back. The question caused her to break out into a full-blown smile.
“Both. Now, do me a favor and take that to the table over there.” She pointed to a rounded booth, set away in the left corner. “That’s the boss’s table, Diesel. If he doesn’t kick you out right there, then you’re welcome to stay and dance…” She let her statement trail off, waiting for me to supply her with a name.
“Sugar Tits,” I said sarcastically, grabbing the drinks and balancing the tray on my palm with ease. Thank god I’d done this enough times at Lotería.
Bianca snorted, rolling her eyes. “Smartass. Okay,Sugar Tits, take it to them before I get chewed out.”
Weaving through the crowded club was easy since my heels were still tucked inside my bag. I was accosted with catcalls and far too many slaps to my ass. If I weren’t trying to lay low, I’d have tased more than one man already.
Several bikers were at the front of the stage, harassing the young girl performing. Blue-collar men who were either coming after work or before milled about with an occasional woman sprinkled in the mix.
A flash of someone in a suit drew my attention. Tucked into a corner was a man who looked more like he should be in a boardroom than a rundown biker strip club. Next to him were two men whodidfit right in. I didn’t need to see the back of their cuts to know they said Reaper across the rocker. That, and they were in the booth Bianca had pointed me to.
Their heads were all tucked together. One was flinging his arms around animatedly. Slipping around the corner of the hallway, I pulled off my sweatshirt, stashing it in my bag. My boobs were practically in my throat in the bra I’d worn, hoping Jardani would stare at them rather than my face. The lining was close enough to my skin color that I looked bare underneath. I bit down on my bottom lip, willing my nerves to settle so I wouldn’t spill any of their liquor. That would be just what I needed, fucking up their drinks.
Whatever they’d been talking about came to a halt the moment I approached their table.
“I haven’t seen you around here, girl,” The one with the VP patch said, spreading his arms across the back of the booth. There was an edge to his tone that told me I’d better have a damn good reason to be at their table.
“Nope.” I let the p pop. “It’s my first night. Bianca said I was supposed to come over and introduce myself.” I pulled a shot off the tray, setting it in front of the prick.
“That so.” Suspicion was thick in his tone, but I ignored him, swinging my attention to the man to my left. Jardani, in the flesh. Panic threatened to hijack my nervous system.
Why the fuck hadn’t I taken a shot before this? Hell, ten shots.
He was clearly trying to make eye contact, but I looked away, shielding my face with the curtain of black hair.
Knuckles peppered with Cyrillic letters wrapped around the shot glass I pushed toward him. The men resumed their chatter, sticking to inconsequential things as they waited for me to hurry the fuck up and leave. Sweat rolled down my spine, my tongue swiping across my suddenly dry lips. If I didn’t find a fucking way to make an impression now, this night might be a bust. Because Jardani hadn’t evenglancedat the topless woman on stage, meaning this was all business tonight, unless I convinced him otherwise. The final whiskey felt like a gavel, and it was time to plead my case before sentencing. I took a leap of faith, hoping the change of hair and eye color would be enough for him not to suspect I was the woman he was after.
His eyebrows shot up, lips parting slightly, when, in Russian, I asked him what brought him to this area. After so many years of not using it, my mother tongue felt clunky in my mouth. I didn’t meet his gaze, hoping my avoidance read as bashful and not,“I’m fucking guilty.”
He started to respond when the president cut him off.
“Hey, hey, hey. Let’s keep this to fucking English, yeah?” He glared at both Jardani and me. “This bitch with you or something,Jardi?”
I winced, hugging the tray to my chest, deciding to abandon the idea—too much testosterone at the table. I’d have to find another way. Before I could walk away, Jardani reached out a hand and pulled me down into his lap. Thank god I was still in a pair of biker shorts. They offered a little more protection against the tough fingers biting into my thigh. At least with this arrangement, Jardani didn’t have the opportunity to study my face.
