Imperfectly (Dante’s Nine MC #2)(29)
Author: Colleen Masters

I ease my car along the dusty trail, further up into the Las Vegas hills. I barely slept a wink last night, wondering what today might have in store. Will Leo steal me away into the office or the barracks and finally have his way with me? Or will we blow this pop stand the second I arrive and go back to his place, wherever that may be? I grip the steering wheel tighter, swallowing an excited smile. Only time will tell.

It’s barely ten in the morning when I roll up to the Devil’s Playpen. But despite the early hour, the strip club doesn’t appear to be quite deserted yet. As I step out of my car, a trio of sad-looking men stumble out of the Playpen together. Their fancy but disheveled suits and preppy haircuts tell me right away that they’re civilians, not club members. They look hung-over, befuddled, and very pleased with themselves.

“I told you it would be worth the trip,” one of the men slurs to his buddies, “These Playpen girls are something else, aren’t they?”

“I’ll say,” mumbles another, “I would have given my right nut to fuck one of them, if they asked me to. Good thing they took Visa, instead.”

I raise an eyebrow as the men pass, barely remaining upright. They look like Midwestern business types, probably in Vegas for some weekend conference while their families wait at home. I could never stand men like them. Entitled, wealthy sons of bitches who think they deserve to be fawned over. Thank god Leo claimed me for his own before I got here, or I might have had to dance for them myself, or worse. The very thought makes me cringe.

“Hey baby,” one of them grins, spotting me as I turn toward the strip club, “I’ve got a few twenties left. Why don’t you show me those titties of yours?”

“Excuse me?” I growl, my hands balled into fists.

“What, is it not your shift or something?” he goes on, red-faced and pudgy. His friends giggle like schoolboys as he produces his wallet and holds up a crumpled bill like a dog treat. He waves the money at me, and I feel my blood start to boil. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re too good for my money, sweetheart.”

“I don’t need any pennies from your hooker allowance,” I snap, “And sorry, buddy, but I’m not for sale. I know that may be a foreign concept to you. I don’t imagine you can get any pussy that you don’t pay for, by the look of you.”

“You bitch,” he murmurs, as his friends clutch their sides, aching with laughter.

“I’m not a bitch,” I spit back, “I’m a woman. And I won’t tolerate being disrespected. Especially by the likes of you.”

“Then you’re in the wrong place, sweetie,” he says, “Don’t know if you noticed, but this is an outlaw club. You’re not gonna find any respect around here, no matter what your biker boyfriend might tell you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I hear a familiar voice say from over my shoulder.

I spin around to see Leo emerging from the shadows of the Devil’s Playpen. He rises like a storybook hero out of the darkness—of course, his armor is of leather and ink, rather than chain mail. But still. My every cell blazes to life at the sight of his towering form, his glowing, golden eyes. The three pathetic strip club patrons all but cower before him as he steps up beside me.

“Are these idiots giving you trouble?” he asks, his gaze cutting and ferocious on the men.

“Of course not!” cries my bloated antagonizer.

“This one’s insisting on treating me like a hooker and saying you don’t respect me,” I reply, crossing my arms and glaring at the pudgy ringleader.

“W-what?!” he exclaims, “I wasn’t—I didn’t—you don’t understand—”

“Oh, I think I understand perfectly,” Leo growls, “You think you’re some big tough guy because you paid to blow your load with one of our working girls last night? She may have taken pity on you, deigned to take your money, but I don’t do pity. Or charity. You just fucked with my woman, you pathetic piece of shit. Nobody fucks with my woman.”

“I didn’t know…” the man says, white as a sheet, “I swear—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Leo roars, “Get the fuck out of here, and stay away. You just lost your Playpen privileges, you motherfucker. We’ve got the best girls north of the border, and you’ll never enjoy their company again. If I see you here, you’re dead. That goes for your buddies, too. And don’t think for a second that I’m bluffing.”

I gasp as Leo pushes aside the front of his cut, revealing the deadly black handgun stashed there. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to a firearm, at least not to my knowledge. None of the young club members I hung out with as a kid carried. And my liberal college town was decidedly against the idea of lugging around pocket-sized killing machines. I’m at once intrigued and appalled by Leo’s gun, but not nearly as frightened as the three assholes quavering before us.

“Um…Ok…Take it easy…” the man stammers.

“Apologize to my woman,” Leo says, nodding in my direction.

“I’m…Sorry…” the man says, eyes on the ground.

“Say it to her,” Leo shouts, making a menacing step forward.

The man snaps his bloodshot eyes up to mine. They’re teeming with disdain and humiliation as he says, “Sorry.”

“I don’t much give a fuck,” I say lightly, crossing my arms.

“You heard her,” Leo says, putting his arm around my waist, “Guess you can’t get forgiveness unless you pay for it, either. Now beat it.”

The men fall over each other, rushing to their car. I can’t help but laugh as they topple into their Audi and tear ass away from the Playpen, never to return. That’s a clown car if I ever saw one. It’s not even noon, and I’ve already witnessed three grown men nearly piss themselves for acting like misogynist pigs. A good morning, I’d say.

“What are you, my knight in shining armor?” I ask Leo, lacing my fingers with his. A playful smile spreads across my lips as I wait for him to make his move.

“Just beating back the vermin,” he grumbles, stepping away from me, “Should be the last of them, though. At least for today.”

“Oh. Great,” I say, taken aback by his cool demeanor. We were hot and heavy just yesterday, weren’t we? But today he seems more brooding. Even less lighthearted, if that’s humanly possible.