Boa was having a first-class, grade A, shitty day.
After getting a phone call at five in the morning from the alarm company telling him the security system at Ecstasy flaked out again, he dragged his ass down there, met with Metro, and shut off the head-banging, shrieking alarm. Before heading back home, Boa did a walk-through of the empty club—nothing more depressing than a strip joint in the early morning hours.
Stupid shit kept cropping up the last two weeks in and around the Serpents-owned strip club. Nothing too serious, but just enough to be a pain in the ass. Since Boa didn’t believe in coincidences, he’d be bringing it up at the next church meeting.
Later on that day, he rode out to Joker’s shop, J&D Custom Bikes in Henderson, to find out that not only couldn’t his club’s VP get the part he needed, but the manufacturer didn’t even make it anymore. Boa would have to put off rebuilding his Harley softail, maybe indefinitely. Bummer.
On his way back to Vegas, while cruising along Boulder Highway, some smart ass in a Lamborghini decided to tail Boa, then zipped past him so close he almost laid down his bike. The jerk-off paced him, but as soon as Boa slipped his hand into his cut, his eyes widened seconds before he sped off. Boa gave his Kimber a loving pat. Nothing said “Get the fuck away from me” like a 1911.
Other than that, Boa was having a fan-fuckin-tastic day.
All these screw-ups messed with his brain and had him angling his bike into the McDonald’s on Sahara on this 95-degree fall day in Las Vegas. With any luck, the blonde with the bangin’ body would be working, but of course, because he was having a shit day, he found two guys with bad skin and a woman in her sixties behind the counter instead. Yup, it was a fuckin’ lousy day when Boa couldn’t order a hot and juicy while ogling a hot and spicy.
He could almost taste that Big Mac, large fries, and chocolate milkshake sliding down his throat as he waited in line. Yeah, his personal trainer would say he was “eating his feelings,” and once upon a time in the bad old days when he was the fat kid everybody made fun of, that was true. Now at six foot six, weighing in at two-forty, and pierced and tatted from head-to-toe, nobody made fun of Boa. Except Rattler. The Serpents’ road captain razzed everybody. Sarcasm was in his DNA like peanut butter and jelly. They just went together.
He’d just nabbed the warm bag of his greasy, two-thousand calorie lunch when a blood-curdling scream echoed through the restaurant. He spun around in time to see a woman drenched in what looked like a supersized soft drink. She frantically tried to wrangle three kids out of the booth also dripping in the thirty ounces of sugar and syrup. He couldn’t help the smile tilting his lips because the older kid was putting up a fuss. Boa didn’t have any kids of his own, but he loved their energy and spirit, and this kid had it in spades.
He was about to head out to his bike and unwrap his junk food when the woman straightened, and her profile made him look closer. Shit, it was Madeline. Madeline, the stripper from the Shangri-La with the knockout body. Madeline, who helped the Serpents take down a notorious MC president. That Madeline.
His booted feet sent him in her direction, and a few seconds later, he was standing in a puddle of Coke.
“I told y’all not to be horsing around and causing a fuss,” Madeline scolded in a heavy southern drawl. He’d only had a few words with her in the past but never detected any accent.
The boy, who looked to be nine or ten, paid her no mind and continued to swirl the spilled soda over the Formica tabletop with a smirky smile while two other younger boys complained their fries and hamburgers were drenched and soggy.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Madeline squawked each word louder than the last.
“Hey,” Boa’s deep voice cut through the chaos. Madeline flinched, and now he had four pairs of big brown eyes staring up at him.
“Boa? Geez, you scared the shit outta me. I figured it was the freakin’ manager telling us to leave.” She shot a look to the boys. “Again.”
The middle boy averted his eyes while the younger one stared at Boa looming over the table, but the oldest one, defiant and challenging, held Boa’s glare.
“I’ll bet you begged your mama to come here today, right?”
The two younger ones nodded their heads, but the older one continued to scowl at Boa.
“And now ’cause you all were acting out, it’s ruined.” Boa waved his hand over the uneatable food. “That ain’t right, and you should be apologizing to your mom.”
Madeline remained still and quiet as the younger boys each mumbled, “Sorry.”
Boa shot his mean mug to the older one, who finally spit out an apology too. Yeah, this kid was a handful, but there was something admirable about him that tugged at Boa, something the biker hadn’t learned until much later in life.
“Now go up to the front and nicely ask the girl for some rags to clean this up, and we’ll see what we can do about getting some new food.”
The two little ones scurried out of the booth, whereas the older one continued to hold Boa’s gaze for a few extra seconds, as if he didn’t trust this good luck. Smart kid.
Madeline narrowed her eyes and cocked her head like she was just as confused as her oldest son. The little he knew about her told him she couldn’t afford to waste food. According to the talk around the Gold Mine, these three kids all had different daddies, one of them up in Ely State Pen. Her last job had her stripping at the Shangri-La until the Serpents torched it in a turf war. Supposedly, Cobra gave her some money for her part in setting up the sleazy owner, but feeding and housing three kids on her own had to be tough.
An uneasy silence settled between them. Boa sensed her skepticism mixed in with a hint of pride, probably where the older kid got his spunk.
Madeline had been a platinum blonde the last time he’d seen her. Today, her hair color was dark red with purple streaks—and her makeup?—a bit dramatic for McDonald’s at two in the afternoon or any time in a fast-food restaurant for that matter. The spill from the soft drink molded her thin t-shirt, showing off her amazing tits, and even though he’d seen her topless at the Shangri-La, this was turning him on even more. Flat sandals, denim shorts, and a drenched t-shirt, Madeline still looked like a porn star. Boa didn’t mean it in a negative way, but with all that big hair, her curves and height, she oozed sexy.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.” The southern accent disappeared.
“I want to.” And for some reason, he did. With all her glitzy makeup and tough attitude, she seemed desperate and … kinda shy?
“Come over here and get this shit cleaned up like Boa said,” she yelled at the boys as they approached the table, rags in hand. “Then plant your skinny asses in those seats.”
Well, maybe not shy, but something.
“I’ll be right back.” The crowd thinned out, and Boa was able to order more food quickly. He gathered up the bags, headed back to Madeline, and dropped them on the now clean tabletop.
“Thanks,” the little ones mumbled while older one still wondered the reason for this reprieve.
“Just remember to be good to your mama and do what she says.”
Madeline reached up and circled her slender fingers around his forearm. “Thanks, again.”
Boa’s face split into a grin—the first one today. He left McDonald’s with his now cold food and didn’t even care, which was fuckin’ crazy ’cause the only thing Boa liked better than food was screwing. Since neither one was in the near future, this easy, stupid sensation confused him.
* * *
Later that night, Cobra called a special church meeting to assess and discuss the wonky shit going on at Ecstasy. All the brothers filed in, dropping their phones in the cardboard box on the table by the door.
They settled into their usual seats around the scarred oak table etched in the middle with a coiled serpent. Cobra lit up a smoke and turned his icy blue eyes on Boa. “Fill us in on what happened this morning.”
Typical Cobra—no dancing around shit but just right to the point.
“Something or somebody tripped the alarm again for the third fuckin’ time this week.”
“Along with our mouse infestation, which had every half-naked dancer squealing and standing on chairs the other night.” Python rubbed his stubbled chin. “It took me twenty minutes to settle them down. Believe me, it was like some X-rated Tom and Jerry cartoon. I felt sorry for the mice.”
“Then the graffiti scrolled on the outside wall,” Joker said. “Took the prospects three days to clean that shit up, and I had to listen to them bitch the whole time.”
“Before that, it was roaches in the kitchen on the very day the health department decided to pay a visit,” Rattler added. “I know none of us believe in coincidences, and since we’ve never so much as had a fly in that kitchen, I’d say someone’s fuckin’ with us.”
“Desert Rats?” Python offered.
“Nah, after we took down the Shangri-La, most of them split up and hit it to Cali,” Cobra said.
“Then it’s an outside force. Somebody with a grudge … Somebody looking to mess with our shit.” Cobra rested his eyes on every officer. “Any ideas? Rumblings from other Nevada clubs? We got a sweet deal with Ecstasy, but maybe we also got some envious fuckers trying to move in.”
“Anything’s possible,” Python agreed. “But our rep’s too tight. No other club would want that kinda blowback.”
They all nodded in silence.
“Then it’s coming from another source.” Cobra turned to Boa. “Nothing on the cameras?”
“Nah, whoever they are, they’re smart,” Boa said. “They position themselves so all I got are the backs of some guys in black hoodies. I couldn’t even get a profile, not enough to do a facial recognition.”
“Bottom line is, we need to find out who’s behind this shit and put a stop to it.”
“I’m on it.” Boa leaned into the table. “I’m setting up heat sensors so I know the minute somebody’s in the lot or anywhere around the building after closing.”
Rattler tipped his head. “Torching the Shangri-La put a lot of bartenders, bouncers, and strippers out of work. You think, maybe it’s tied to one of them?”
“Nah, I hired some of the bouncers and bartenders at Ecstasy.” Python said. “Most of the strippers scattered, which is fine with me. A lot of them were into shoving shit up their nose, a headache we don’t need.”
Cobra glanced at Rattler. “You saw Madeline afterwards. What was her attitude?”
Madeline’s name perked up Boa.
“Her attitude was grateful. The nice pile of cash you threw her way for helping us out smoothed over torching that dump of a strip joint.”
Boa forgot Rattler’s involvement with Madeline. When they ambushed Demon, the former president of the Desert Rats and owner of the Shangri-La, Madeline stepped up. She even got grazed by a stray bullet. Rattler took her to the hospital, and the club kicked in some money with the stipulation she use it for her kids.
“Plus, she hated Demon and all the shit he made the girls do.”
“What kinda shit?” Boa’s neck tightened.
“Fuckin’ for money, whether they wanted it or not.”
Rattler’s usual blunt observation hung over Boa. Word was, Madeline had money troubles, maybe even a problem with blow. It didn’t mean she was selling herself, but still.
“Did she get another job?” Cobra rested his eyes on Rattler.
“I don’t know, but this seems like more than some petty revenge,” Rattler added.
“You still seeing her?” Cobra asked.
“Off and on.” Rattler shrugged his shoulder, and Boa knew what that meant. Rattler had a stream of hot- and cold-running women. His bedroom at the Gold Mine was like a revolving door.
“Make it more on, and feel her out. See if she’s heard anything.”
Rattler huffed and shifted in his seat.
“You got a problem with that?” Cobra challenged.
“She lives in this shitty trailer out by Sam’s Town. Fuckin’ AC don’t work right. It’s like being stuck in a tin can.”
“Shouldn’t be too much of a hardship.” Cobra added, “She’s got a body like a goddamn porn star. Plus, I hear she’s pretty hot in the sack.”
“What was her stripper name?” Python looked toward the ceiling for guidance, then snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah … ‘Kitti Kat.’ She used to wear a cheetah thong with the black tassels on her—”
“We get it.” Cobra rolled his eyes at Python, then turned to Rattler. “So, suck it up for the club. Drag your ass out there and see if Madeline knows anything.”
Rattler mumbled under his breath.
“Work your charms.” Cobra slid him the side-eye. “If she’s blowing on your dice, she can’t be too picky.”
The other brothers joined in with comments of their own, mostly about how Rattler would fuck anything with two legs and a pussy, but Boa still didn’t like the undercurrent regarding Madeline’s reputation.
“She’s got kids, ya know.” Boa didn’t understand why he said that or why his voice came off sounding like a bitch, but it pissed him off the way they were talking about her.
“The only thing she’s missing is the baby daddies. One of them is up in Ely.” Rattler laughed. “I guess they don’t celebrate Father’s Day at her place.”
“Can’t be easy raising them on her own.” Boa’s fingers balled into a fist. He pictured her drenched in Coke, trying to wrangle her unruly kids.
“Might help if she didn’t hook up with druggies who do disappearing acts and can’t keep their asses outta jail.” Rattler grinned around his comment.
Boa leaned in, his back tense. “Says the outlaw biker.”
“Since when are you a knight in shining armor?” Rattler loved egging him on. “What are you gonna do, ride in on your Harley and sweep her off her feet?”
“Fuck you.” Heat surrounded Boa’s neck along with an urge to crush Rattler’s perfect jaw.
Cobra got in both their faces. “What the hell is goin’ on with you two?”
“Nothing,” Boa grumbled.
“I didn’t even think you knew her.” Rattler slouched back in his chair, dismissing Boa’s pissy attitude. Typical Rattler. The prick didn’t take anything serious.
“Just don’t think you should be talking about her like that,” Boa mumbled.
“If we’re done with this intriguing analysis, could one of you pay her a visit and see if she’s heard anything?” Cobra slammed down the gavel.
Boa shot Rattler another look, and the asshole laughed, then grinned at him. Rattler could take anyone down with a smirk. It always amazed Boa how he still had all his teeth intact. Probably because guys knew he didn’t give a shit, so why bother.
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
