Page 5 of Property of Rattler

“I don’t know what you expected from Royals,” I tell him, trying to stay patient, which is not one of my strengths. “But we run a gentleman’s club and stick to the rules set by the state of Arizona. I don’t understand what you’re inferring.”

“I’m fucking telling you I want full-on sex with her.” He waves his hand in Angel’s direction.

I reel back as though shocked. “You’ve come to the wrong establishment. I think you want a whorehouse, not a strip club.”

His mouth gapes, and for the first time, he looks uncertain. “You mean, you don’t offer…”

I shake my head adamantly. Not to the likes of him anyway.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “Then I want my money back.”

“No.” There can be no mistaking my refusal. “You’ve taken up fifteen minutes…” I glance at the clock on the wall. “In fact, more than that. You owe Angel for the extra minutes you’ve kept her in here. Oh, and you can add on more for wasting management’s time as well.”

He looks from me to Angel and then back. He rushes to the chair where he left his jacket, then makes a bolt for the door while tossing over his shoulder, “You can keep the money.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

“Come ‘ere.” I hold my hands out to Angel. When she comes closer, I pull her into my arms and give her a brief hug. Then, with my hands on her biceps, move her away. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, he didn’t touch me.”

Angel’s one of the girls who likes to earn extra and appreciates being able to do that under the watchful eye of the Kings. Unlike pimps running street girls, our share of the take is much more reasonable. “You could have taken him on back if you wanted,” I remind her.

Shaking her head vigorously, she confides, “He fucking smells. Didn’t you get a waft of his body odour?” She tosses back her long hair. “I’ve got standards.”

“Sure you have, girl,” I tell her with a grin. No, I hadn’t smelled anything, but then my sense of smell has faded since Freak damn near busted my nose when I’d dared to touch his woman, now wife, Trixie. I mean, fuck, it takes a man a minute to understand new rules—she’d been a club girl since before I’d joined the Kings. Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I address Angel, “Get out of here. We’re taking up room that should be earning dollars.”

“Thanks, Rattler.” She sounds earnest.

“No problem, doll.” I wave her off.

When she exits, I follow her out.

It’s gone two a.m., I notice, only an hour before we close. I walk to the bar and catch Joe’s attention. “Has she come out?”

He doesn’t have to ask me who I mean. He shakes his head. “No. Got Gary to check. The door’s still locked. Rat, I know you’ve been busy, but don’t you think we should get her out soon? Fuck knows what she might be doing to herself in there.”

Nothing, I expect. And if she’s decided to top herself, though we might not have a cleaner like the New Mexico Kings have in Jester, we do know how to clean up after ourselves, and Words has a pretty damn convenient cremator.

As the senior, well, only King here tonight, I make an executive decision. “Let’s wait her out. She’ll emerge when she’s ready, probably at closing. Oh, and make sure her pay is docked for tonight. She didn’t earn it.”

Joe’s eyes narrow. “You’re a cold-hearted son of a bitch, Rattler.”

Words can’t hurt me. If they could, I’d be dead by now. I shrug. “If it’s an angry ex in the club, maybe it’s the best option for her to wait him out. We’ve fuck all idea who he is or what we’re dealing with. I’ll go get her when the club’s cleared.”

His features relax slightly. “Guess we should have chased for her and Satin’s documents earlier.”

So, they hadn’t come through with their credentials. What had Freak been thinking? I give a tight-lipped reply. “Sure fuckin’ should. We shouldn’t be blindsided.”

It’s why we insist on ID when we employ someone. We don’t give a fuck who they are or what they’ve done. But stripping isn’t an ambition for most people. Mostly it’s the option they turn to when they’ve got nothing else. Or if they want to be paid under the table to leave no trace to betray where they are. We’re happy to pay cash, but we insist on using the information to do a deep dive so we know what they might be running from.

Had we known tonight, her sister’s ex, working on the assumption that that’s who it was, wouldn’t have made it through the door. And Satin would have been here doing the job we pay her for. I suspect her cramps were just an excuse. Maybe she knew he was going to turn up? But if so, why hadn’t she warned her sister?

Fuck Freak. Why hadn’t he remembered to chase for their ID?Because he was dealing with his son’s kidnapping and the asshole who damn near killed his old lady.Oh, and then arranging the wedding and reception, to which our attendance was mandatory. Fucking waste of time. Well, it is now, as I’m not there to enjoy it.

I’m not stupid enough to go head-to-head with him and read him his rights. But you can bet your last dollar that I will lethim know that, by neglecting his duties, he was responsible for whatever’s gone down here tonight.

Ah, Missy’s on stage. She always gives a good show. Asking Joe for a beer, I take it with me when I go to sit at the table reserved for any attending Kings. Kicking my legs out, I settle in.