Page 6 of Property of Rattler

Royals treats its girls well, and for that, we get good talent. It’s no hardship to sit here enjoying the acts on stage while sporting the predictable boner. I can enjoy the show in peace, no brothers to yank my chain, as they’re all back at the compound continuing the celebrations.

Convincing myself I’m working by checking the responsiveness of the servers, I beckon them over from time to time and drink the beers they bring across. By the time the lights go down on the stage, I’m pleasantly buzzed and in no hurry to move as the club empties out around me.Wasn’t there a reason I stayed until closing?I’ll be fucked if I can remember.

This sofa’s quite comfortable. Maybe I’ll stay here a bit longer.The music’s been shut off. Even the voices seem to fade as everyone leaves the building. I close my eyes…

“What the fuck?” I reach down to rub my leg and glare at Joe, who’s obviously just kicked me.

He states tersely, “She still hasn’t come out. Bitch must be deaf, or dead, not to hear the music shut down.”

What the hell is he talking about?As I shake my head, my senses come back to me. Oh, yeah. That useless bitch, Ames, has locked herself into the storeroom, and that’s why I’m here, and not partying back at the club, or, more probably, be balls deep in Star’s pussy. Idly, I wonder who’s experiencing that pleasure now that it’s not me.

“The dancers have all been shown to their cars, and all the staff have gone. I’m the last, and I’m fucking leaving now. You gonna get her out of there?” From his expression, his unspokenwords imply that I’m to deal with any mess that needs cleaning up.

“Yeah,” I murmur, wondering whether I can ask for another beer or a shot, then realise from the death glare he’s shooting my way that I’m better off not making that request. I’m just a club member, not an officer, as he well knows. Freak, Stalker, and Paint all outrank me and would have my ass were I not to sort what I’d been summoned here for.

Pulling myself to my, admittedly unsteady, feet, I wave him off. “You go. I got this.”

He waits for a moment. Then, as I straighten, he throws up his hands and spins on his heels. As he walks off, I swear I can hear him muttering, “I’m going to regret this.” Followed by, “I don’t give a damn that Freak’s on his honeymoon. He’s going to hear about what’s gone on tonight.”

Fuck. That threat is like a bucket of cold water thrown over me.Freak will fucking kill me if Joe reports I’d done fuck all when he’d called me for help.

“Don’t forget to lock up,” is Joe’s last parting comment as he leaves. He also switches off the main lights. The only one left on is the one in the hallway where Ames has secreted herself away.

Sitting in a dark, empty strip club is a bit like being alone in a haunted house. It feels unreal, unnatural. As if something’s lurking in the depths I can’t see. No longer feeling relaxed or at ease, I fumble my way toward the only light I can see, bumping into tables, bashing my shins. Like a blind man, I proceed, ultra carefully, with my hands held out in front of me. Finally, my way is illuminated. Luckily, there’s a bathroom close by. I go there first to empty my full bladder, then head back to where I’m supposed to be.

I bang on the door to the storeroom. “Open up, Ames. The club’s closed. All the bogeymen have gone.” Or at least I hope so,as I give a furtive look into the darkness behind me. How many beers did I drink tonight? Obviously, too many.

My lock-picking kit is still in my pocket. I take it out. My hands are so unsteady that it takes an age to get the picks into the lock. Then I drop them and have to start over once more. Fuck knows how long it takes before I have that fucking lock open.

I push the door with a flourish and step inside, righteous anger burning as I spy the woman who’s caused all this trouble tonight, hovering by the shelves covering the back wall.

“Oh, thank…” she starts, then her face falls as I step inside. “Don’t shut the…”

I slam the door behind me.

I expected a crying, traumatised woman. Instead, I get a full-force burst of antagonism. “You fucking idiot.”

What?

I stand there, rocking back and forth, my head spinning as I try to make sense of the situation. There’s something in the way her eyes are focused, not at me, but behind me toward the door, that makes me turn. I try the handle. It doesn’t budge.

Well, fuck. Maybe now I’ve got the reason she hasn’t exited before. The damn lock’s buggered.

CHAPTER FOUR

AMES

“Itold you not to shut it.” My eyes shoot daggers at him. Why does he think I didn’t come out of the closet on my own? Sure, for the first couple of hours I had people talking to me, trying to get me out, but I wasn’t ready to exit then, not whenhemight still be around, waiting. But once I heard the club closing for the night and knew it was safe, I’d screamed myself hoarse, but nobody had heard me.

“I don’t take orders from bitches,” the asshole in front of me says.

I sigh. Of all the men it could have been, why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been Joe, or one of the bouncers, Meat, Gary, or even one of the other Kings who are around the club a lot of the time? But no, to top off my disastrous evening, it had to be Rattler, the worst of them all. I’d already been warned off him by the strippers, who told me to steer clear. When I’ve been working in the main room, I’ve noticed that the other members of his club don’t seem to have much patience for him.

And now we’re stuck in this closet. Unless he can find a way out, we’ll be here until morning. Briefly, I close my eyes, but itdoesn’t shift the image out of my head, nor the realisation that this is going to be intolerable.

I sigh heavily, cross my arms, and settle back to watch, as typical of a man, he tries every move I’ve already taken—shaking the handle, banging the door, as if he can make it comply by his will alone. It takes him a while before he gives up. When he does, he slides his hand into the pocket of that vest they call a cut and extracts his phone.

I expect him to immediately call someone for help, but instead of dialing, he just stares at it for a moment, then lets the air out in a resigned sigh, and finally, he places a call. My lips quirk briefly. Perhaps he doesn’t want to admit to the predicament he’s in.