AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
*Kio “K.O.” - Enforcer*
Predictably, Jess and Lace are hip to hip when I enter. Lace said she would talk to her today, and I intend on holding her to that promise, even if I went behind her back and talked Kal into having her come back to work the bar last night anyway.
The faintest frown drops on Lace’s face before it turns upward and her cheeks bunch. Smiling, eyes locked on me with all that insane amount of energy she somehow always has no matter what her Universe throws at her, she leans in closer to Jess, covering her mouth with a cupped hand. Big, green eyes flick up to me. Jess blinks, nods in response to whatever Lace said, then turns around and disappears toward the back.
Kal refused to let me get anywhere near Jess last night, so I plan on remedying that today. Within reason, of course. Lace was right, my emotions got in the way. I almost made a very fucking stupid move.
In the least, I ascertained that this man controlling Jess is similar to Coty in that he turns a blind eye while Jess works. My power is stripped as soon as she walks out. Hence the reason she was called back into the saloon last night. Gotta love loopholes.
I slink off to a corner of the main room. The benefit of being here at the saloon during hours is that I can speak to whomever, and no one can pin my attention on any woman specifically. Keeps Lace and Jess both safe. Kind of.
The lights dim cueing the first dancer. A song I have come to associate with Lace hums to life. My focus moves to where Lace was standing, but she is no longer there. So, instead, I turn my attention to the stage. Every man, woman, dancer, and worker in the building falls into routine, the flashy lighting and enticing music reminding them of where they are and what the purpose of being here is. Sex, drugs, and… in Lace’s case right now… rock ‘n’ roll.
Lace starts scaling the steps at the back of the stage one slow step at a time. Unlike everyone else in the saloon, I can see the little flowers on her ankle with her very first step because I already know it’s there. More of the stocking tattoo, running up the outside of her thighs and burying under a form-fitting leather skirt, shows as she steps under the main, ambient spotlight.
Her intoxicating brown eyes float to me as she makes her way to the pole.
Knowing I have been inside her, that I already know where those lines of her tattoo lead, my cock twitches with anticipation. The first time I came in here, Coty couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He encouraged us closer to the stage so we could “discuss” things in a place where people were too distracted to hear what we were talking about. Every other member fell for that shit, but not me. He wanted to get closer to her. Some of that twin flame stuff sparked off him.
But when she came onto the stage, walking one foot in front of the other, chin held slightly higher than most dancers, her smile genuine — just like that, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her either. She loves what she does, and it makes a difference.
Movement in my peripheral vision draws my attention away from the stage just as her fingers wrap around the pole. Jess is heading in my direction. I adjust myself, lean back a little more to give my junk more breathing room, and open my arm out, inviting her to sit on my lap.
She props on one of my thighs and drapes her arm over my shoulder and neck. “Hey, hot stuff, you here for Bike Week?” she asks, performing her script.
The spark in her eyes is mischievous, prodding me to play along. I improv a little: “Yep. Every six months… just to see my favorite dancers.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and her eyes move to the main stage. I live for that coy reaction, knowing it takes a lot to get these dancers giddy.
But then her bashful gaze returns to me, and that playful smile weakens. “Why are you really here?” she asks. It catches me off guard, something she does often and is one dangerous reason why I am so drawn to her. Not many people can do that.
I take my time answering, which tends to drive her crazy — no doubt so accustomed to quick reflexes and responses. Still, regardless, she waits. Watching her try to be patient makes it take even longer for me to decide how to respond because I am not big on false truths. Ones I’m not forced to keep, at least. She just hasn’t come to that realization yet — that trust. One day, though, I hope she’ll experience it.
Dragging my thumb against her jaw, and tilting her head up a little, wanting to see what she’ll look like when she gains the confidence she deserves, I lower my voice and respond. “Someone needed to keep an eye on Lace during her shift — make sure Stoney stays out of her business while we’re in town. I threw my hat in the ring because I wanted to see you, too.”
Her mouth twists to the side as she captures the flesh of her inner cheek between her teeth. They hear sickly sweet words all the time. Customers can say them easily enough, but the emotion never matches.
Jess removes her arm from around my neck and places it on her thigh instead. She leans her shoulder a little deeper into me, stealing the moment to get comfortable, and turns her attention to Lace. I slowly slip my fingers between hers, but she curls them toward her palm, refusing me that simple touch.
Lace was right to question me about my motives. I am hard pressed not to care when I know something about their home life is less than ideal. Lace is too smart for her own good sometimes. But that care goes so much deeper with Jess and Lace. Too much. Something about Jess challenges my ability to keep things platonic. That makes her incredibly dangerous.
“When do you go on?” I ask, suddenly more anxious to get her away from me than I was to get near her.
Jess adjusts to peek up at me. “I… I got here late.” The response comes out hesitantly and is paired with a glance toward the office. “I am last on the rotation. Lace is first. She usually is.”
The music dies down, and Lace’s next song starts. She is no longer using the pole and has since lost the leather skirt in a pile along with the sheer top she started with.
Jess’s comment gives me pause, though. “What do you mean Lace is usually first? Seems I remember her talking about it depending on who arrives when.”
“Right. She… um… she is usually almost always here before anyone else.”
On the surface, that reasoning seems innocent enough, but the way she answered is awfully suspicious. I am about to dig a little deeper, but a new customer arrives and pulls a chair up to the stage.
Burke, or “Crow” as Lace calls him, glances around, not paying attention to Lace at first, undoubtedly looking for me, since he likely noticed my bike outside. I pat Jess on the thigh a few quick times, and she instantly gets up and walks away. The movement serves to draw his attention in our direction, and his eyes meet mine. I give him a small chin jerk, and he lifts his tattooed fingers up in a gesture of acknowledgment.
Not but a couple seconds after he returns his attention to the stage, Lace notices him, and a beaming grin lights up her face. Just as she does, the establishment gets yet another customer. Coty. Perfect timing. His eyes go to the stage first, as they always do, then immediately upon noticing Lace is up, they flick down to the up-close-and-personal crowd… just so he can rub salt in that obsessed wound of his. To his credit, Coty keeps forward momentum, heading straight toward me, only stopping to catch one of the waitresses en route and order something. For a second, I thought somehow Burke passed his notice, but as Coty slinks by behind him, his head swivels. That connection sticks as he spins the chair beside me to face it in their direction. He sits down in the chair and props his elbows on his knees, eyes riveted on her favorite customer.
