Blowback Page 2

  “Hi,” Tawny says, barely looking at me. I can’t blame her, though, because she was disposable to me. She played her part in my story, and when I didn’t need her any longer, I discarded her like she was nothing. And, for her efforts, she got beaten within an inch of her life.

  “No Whales?” I ask, seeing as she’s in here sweeping the floors and not in the VIP rooms.

  She shakes her head. “Only Rocks.”

  I don’t like to chat on most days, so making small talk is as painful as it sounds. Deciding to leave Tawny alone, I walk down the hallway, checking in each of the VIP rooms. They’re empty.

  I close the door to the room where Tiger gave me my first lap, or rather, air dance, and ignore the reason I chose this room to call Stevie.

  “Hey. I got it,” Stevie says, being ambiguous about tonight’s winnings because he’s paranoid as fuck.

  “Good,” I reply, cutting to the chase and speaking his language. “What’s going on with Oysters?”

  “You know what happened the last time I ate shellfish. I got sick. I’m definitely out.”

  I was afraid of this.

  On the plus side, I’m sure Lotus would sell this place to Jaws for a steal, but goddammit, how can I let her do that? I thought I had time to come up with a plan if Stevie was going to invest, but now he’s not going to because he realizes the place will go bust soon. No matter how much money he invests, it won’t change the fact the club is a ghost town now that Tiger is gone.

  How can he use this place for money laundering if it’s not making any money?

  And not only that, but I’m sure Jaws also has something to do with his decision.

  He’s running scared, which gives me an idea.

  “These oysters are full of pearls. We just need to find the right ones,” I state, hoping he reads between the lines.

  If I can get this place up and running again, I’m hoping it’ll lure him back in.

  I decide to go with my gut and hope it doesn’t backfire. “I got a job finding the pearls.” Yes, I’ve just told him I work here now, but this will make him think I’m doing an inside job. And I am. Just not in the way he thinks I am.

  “Well, in that case, find me the pearls, and I might change my mind about Oysters.” He hangs up, and I let out a sigh, thankful it worked.

  Now, all I need to find are dancers with killer hustle. For this place to survive, we need money and women. I have one, and now it’s time to find the other.

  After filling Lotus in on my plan, she called Pop, who was thankful he got his job back—for now.

  Seeing as the place was dead, Lotus agreed it was a good time for me to scope out the surrounding clubs and put feelers out. If I could recruit half a dozen new dancers with a cult following, or dancers who had something unique about them, it would help put The Pink Oyster back on the radar.

  Tiger was the star attraction, so I need to find another. This entire situation is because of her, and she isn’t even aware of the role she’s played. She’s too busy playing happy family with her son-of-a-bitch brother. I shouldn’t be angry with her, but I am.

  I wish she could see through his bullshit because if she did, this could all be over. But Jaws is one sly, manipulative asshole who’s giving her what she’s always wanted—a family. Not to mention she can make amends for the guilt she feels for falling for his best friend.

  Shaking my head, I focus on the task at hand and not the mess I’ve found myself in.

  The moment I step inside Doll House, a club located downtown, I’m met with a packed club and blaring music. Doing a quick visual sweep of the place, I see the VIP rooms are down a roped-off corridor. There are two Bird Dogs manning the rope, which has me wondering what exactly goes on back there.

  There is only one way to find out.

  Making my way to the bar, I notice the tip rail isn’t full, which has me guessing the pretty brunette on stage isn’t the house favorite. The bartender with a Mohawk nods at me.

  “Scotch,” I order loudly. When he reaches for the house brand, I lean forward. “Not that one. That one.” He turns over his shoulder to see which bottle I’m pointing at.

  When he notices I’m gesturing to the most expensive bottle, he smirks.

  We’ve all got hustle. He’s going to hustle me for money, thinking I have green to burn, and I’ll hustle him into thinking I’m just some chump who wants his cock sucked because this place is notorious for turning a blind eye to those kinds of “extras.”

  It sickens me how most of the clubs in this city are run, which is my main selling point for The Pink Oyster. None of that shit happens there because neither Lotus nor I would ever allow it. I can’t promise them big tips at first, but I can promise they’ll be respected and looked after.

  The bartender pours me a glass of top-shelf scotch, before placing the crystal tumbler on the bar. I give him a fifty for his efforts. “Who’s your best girl?” I ask, going straight in for the kill.

  He has no issues sharing, thanks to the hefty tip I just gave him. “Cherry,” he replies without thought. “You just missed her dance. That table over there.” He points at a round table near the roped-off corridor. “They’re waiting for some one-on-one time with her in the VIP rooms.”

  About eight men sit waiting. This is unheard of in a place full of women where they can literally have their pick. Cherry must be something special, which is why I want her.

  “How much to skip the line?” I’m expressionless as I reach for my glass.

  He mulls over my question. “At least five hundred. If you want an all-access pass, it’s double that.”

  Scoffing at his revolting reply, I reach into the inner pocket of my leather jacket and toss down a stack of hundreds. There is at least a grand there. I know I need green to make people talk, which is why I keep fighting. It’s easy money and allows me to break some bones while doing it.

  The bartender pockets the cash and nods to one of the bouncers. He is by my side in seconds, hinting it’s my turn. Tossing back my scotch, I gesture for another. The bartender complies.

  I follow the bouncer toward the red rope, savoring the grumblings of the assholes who I just cut in front of. They’re all little league and wouldn’t dare take me on, which reveals Cherry isn’t in with anyone of importance. Just desperate perverts who want a pretty girl to get them off.

  The bouncer unhooks the rope, then leads me down the mirrored corridor. The dude knocks on the door once, before opening it for me. I step inside coolly. It’s lit a deep red, giving a new spin on Cherry’s name.

  I don’t need an invitation. I know the drill and take a seat on the white couch in the middle of the room. Cherry is sprawled across a similar couch in front of me. I can see where she gets her name. She’s a pretty redhead in a tight red dress that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

  With plump red lips and deep green eyes, she radiates sex. Her pale, slender arm is bent behind her, accentuating her impressive tits. But I’m not here for that. I want to see her dance.

  “What do you want?” she purrs, arching her back off the couch and running a hand down the middle of her torso.

  I appreciate her hustle because any hot-blooded man would be all up in her business. But I’m not one of them. Let’s hope she can move.

  “Dance for me,” I order lightly.

  She licks her lips as she comes to a slow stand. Her red heels add to her height, though she isn’t a dainty wallflower. She is fierce and all fire with that red she wears. A slow song plays over the speakers, and Cherry commences an unhurried dance, swaying her body to the beat.

  She makes a show caressing herself slowly because she is in kickass shape, but if she’s all gimmick, then I will be disappointed. She is able to read my boredom, though, and suddenly changes her pace. She stops with the seduction and instead, lures me in with her skill.

  She loses herself to the music and displays her talent when she drops to the floor in the splits. She is limber and clearly loves to dance. She saunt
ers over, pushing me onto my back, so I’m lying on the couch. I allow her to touch me because I’m trying to recruit her, not scare her away.

  She lowers herself onto me—her back to my front. I clench the sides of the couch, breathing deeply to calm myself down. She’s too close. She begins to roll her body against me, ensuring she’s touching every part of me. She’s opted for a bed dance, instead of lap, which has me thinking this brings in more cash.

  When she rubs her ass over my crotch, I decide now is the time to strike. Leaning up, I whisper into her ear, “You happy here?”

  She giggles, continuing her seduction. “Why? You wanna be my White Knight?”

  Of course, she’d think I was some perv, wanting to save her. I decide to clarify because her efforts on me are wasted. She could perform cartwheels in the nude, and it still wouldn’t make a difference. I can’t help but compare this private dance to the only other one I’ve had before.

  Tiger had me so worked up that I couldn’t think straight. Now, I just want this done, so I can move on to the next club.

  “Maybe. Just not in the way you think. Call if you’re interested.” Reaching around her hip, I slip Lotus’s business card into her hand.

  She freezes, reading over it.

  “Who are you?”

  “Doesn’t matter who I am. Just know, if you worked with me, you wouldn’t have to rub over some creep’s cock to make a buck. Thanks for the dance.” She is stunned as I gently coax her off me, so we both can stand.

  As she’s shyly rearranging her dress, I reach into my pocket and offer her a wad of cash. “You’ve already paid,” she says, her eyes flicking to the bills and then to me.

  “This is all yours,” I reply, stuffing it into her hand. She’ll probably only see a fifth of what I gave the bartender.

  “Thank you.” She quickly tucks the rolled-up cash into the top of her dress.

  “Nice to meet you, Cherry.”

  She nods, a blush coloring her pale cheeks. “My name is Charlotte.”

  Nodding, I turn and walk out the door. She doesn’t need to know my name.

  The bouncers look at me, surprised I’m leaving so soon. I’m happy for them to think I’m a two-pump chump because better they think that than I’m an unsatisfied customer.

  As I jump into my truck, ready to hit the next club, my cell chimes. Reaching into my pocket, I see the text is from Lotus.

  For someone who hates everyone, you sure as hell have a way with them. Cherry is coming in tomorrow.

  Most would celebrate their victories, but I’m not most. Make no mistake, I’m doing this for my own selfish reasons. I’m doing what I should have done before I lost sight of why I’m here.

  But when Cherry’s vanilla scent lingers, I can’t help but think about other cherries, cherry blossoms that is. So I roll the window down to let the cool air in.

  Bull

  We had seven of the ten girls I spoke to last night come in to see Lotus. All seven seemed interested in what she was offering. She made it clear that the terms of the contract were negotiable, and that when the club picked up, she would ensure they were well taken care of.

  It was a hard gig to sell, so I stayed on the sidelines and let Lotus work her magic. I didn’t think it was necessary for me to be there, but Lotus asked me to come, so I did.

  The girls I recruited are the best of the best, and if all agree to work for Lotus, she will see the club turn around fast. I left her to negotiate the contracts—just in case, she said.

  I hope this plan works because as I park my truck by the curb, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

  Jaws has arranged our meeting location at some seedy bar downtown. He’s chosen this public place because the last time we met, it was in an abandoned building, and when one of his monkeys touched me, I had no issues breaking his nose.

  Jaws knows I’m a ticking time bomb, so he is being cautious. But if he thinks there is safety in numbers, he’s fucking mistaken. Locking my truck, I make my way into the bar. People gather around to play pool while others sit at the bar.

  Jaws is seated in a booth alone, but I’m not fooled. These “civilians” are on his payroll. One wrong move, and they’ll flank me from every side. I enter the booth, eyeing him something wicked. He smiles. I scowl.

  “I like your tie. Very smart,” he says as though we’re friends.

  The tie he speaks of is just a part of the getup I’ve worn since I killed Kong—trousers or black jeans, shirt, tie, suspenders, and Converse or boots. When I wear a vest to help conceal the gun in the small of my back, I add a silver pocket watch, a reminder that this asshole is just biding his time.

  My tie today is royal blue with an anchor print, chosen in honor of Jaws’s friend, who is anchored at the bottom of the Detroit River.

  “Enough with the chitchat. Get to the point,” I snap, pushing the beer in front of me aside. There is no way I’m having a drink with him.

  Jaws appears thoroughly amused, and why shouldn’t he? He is sitting on top of the food chain while I’m just chum. “Suit yourself. What’s new since we last spoke?”

  Cracking my knuckles under the table, I speak quickly, desperate to get this over with. “Stevie is still running scared. He’s undecided about The Pink Oyster because it’s almost bust.”

  Jaws drums his manicured fingers on the table. “That is most disappointing. I hope you have a plan to change his mind.”

  “I do. It’s under control. But why don’t you just buy it off Lotus? She’d sell.” This is something I obviously don’t want to happen, but I need to know his motives.

  Jaws stops drumming. “Why would I buy it when Stevie will give it to me?”

  This is about money and power. It always has been, so his reply makes sense.

  “Fair enough.” I casually shrug, not wanting to throw Lotus into the deep end. “He meets his supplier on the first of every month at the steel mill along the river. I don’t know who it is yet because the first is in three days.”

  “Good. What else?”

  Folding my hands onto the table in front of me, I shake my head. “My turn to ask questions. When can I meet Scrooge?”

  His name is Benjamin Solomon, and he just happens to be one of the richest men in Michigan. His money is “aboveboard” because according to Google, he is an investment banker. But his money is dirty. If he’s running with Jaws, there is no doubt his wealth comes at the expense of others.

  His listed address is a mansion in a gated community. I drove by a couple of times, but the place was patrolled and sealed tight. I’ve called his high-rise office almost every other day, asking to speak with him, but his secretary laughs and hangs up. Without an appointment, I’m not getting within three feet.

  He has no hobbies, which makes it impossible to catch him unaware. If he attends any functions, he has at least three bodyguards. They even follow him to the bathroom. Jaws has no doubt filled him in, making him paranoid.

  I’ve only seen him from a distance, but that distance was enough. He broke my brother’s wrist and stole from him, so it’s time I returned the favor.

  Jaws laughs, reaching for his beer. “I admire your tenacity. Just as I tell you every week, you give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”

  “What I want is for you to be dead,” I reply without pause, deadpanning him.

  Jaws inhales deeply.

  I may be forced to be his snitch, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy for him. I have to “work” with him to get what I want—to see him and Scrooge dead.

  “You can try,” he mocks. “But the longer you prolong what I want, the longer you’ll wait. What about the fighting syndicate?”

  Reaching into the breast pocket of my shirt, I slide a folded piece of paper across the table. Jaws reaches for it and reads over the three names listed. “I didn’t think so many people were involved.”

  His stiff upper lip gives me great pleasure.

  “Including those three names,
that makes eighteen,” I smugly say, in case he needs a reminder.

  “I know,” he grits out between clenched teeth.

  “Having second thoughts?” I settle back against the booth, enjoying his blistering shade of red.

  Jaws clearly didn’t anticipate this many people being involved with Stevie. Making him disappear will be a little harder now, seeing as he’ll be missed. Jaws prefers to work alone, but Stevie’s operation is successful because he has people on his side.

  He makes them money or gives them drugs, and in return, they turn a blind eye if he needs a location to use to run his syndicate. His payroll doesn’t just include criminals; he has a mixed bag in his pocket. He’s earned their trust, which is why he’s able to move around the way that he does.

  Jaws can’t just muscle in and expect people to respect and trust him. He may be feared, but he isn’t respected. Stevie is. I’ve seen it. I don’t know who Stevie’s drug supplier is, but I’m guessing they’re fucking hard-core.

  “Get me a name. I want to know who his supplier is. That motherfucker is undercutting me, and I’m losing business. I want to know every single place his stuff is being dealt. Street corners. Clubs. Fucking kindergartens.

  “When people buy from him, they’re stealing from me.”

  I yawn in response.

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope.” I pop my p, purposely forgetting to tell him the name of the guy who supplies Stevie with his arsenal. I need to keep at least one ace up my sleeve.

  I’m not stupid. Once Jaws gets everything he needs from me, he’ll kill me. He has no plans to ever give me Scrooge, so I need as much ammo as I can amass. And I will have that once I meet Stevie’s supplier in three days’ time.

  I don’t wait around and slide across the leather to exit the booth, but Jaws’s hand snaps out and grips my forearm.

  Inhaling deeply, I peer down at his fingers. “Your hand. Off,” I snarl, my body vibrating for a fight.

  “If I find out you’re lying, you know what that means, right?” He snickers, his confidence only fueling this out of control inferno.