Page 7 of Rattlin' Bones
“Yeah, you do. We’ll get to that once I scope the place out.”
“I was hopin’ you’d say that, Skelly.”
Fuck. I hated that nickname. “Flint,” I warned.
His laughter lasted a full minute. “Just fuckin’ with you, man. Ain’t seen you in months.”
“I know.” I cleared my throat, curbing my irritation. “I’ll handle this, Maddog.”
“That’s why I’m sendin’ you. You’re my new V.P. No one else I want by my side half as much.”
“You sappy old fuck,” I joked, steering the emotional aspect of the conversation as far as possible. I didn’t do feelings. Too goddamn messy. And they always skewed the focus and mission.
He snorted. “We’ll make it official tomorrow. Gonna take you for a ride into the desert.”
The desert? “That sounds sketchy.”
“You have no idea. Check-in with me when you know somethin’. I’ll be up late.”
“You got it.”
Maddog stood, leaving me alone in the chapel as he moved toward the bar and hollered for a drink. I finished the cigarette, flicked the butt into an ashtray, and headed toward the exit—time to get movin’.
Outside, I sat on my Harley, starting the engine as I pulled out my phone and checked the display for messages. One from my pops. A few social media notifications. Nothing from Lacey.
I didn’t expect her to contact me. Didn’t think she’d be in a rush to rehash any arguments we already had. That was why I had a tracker on her phone. In three years, she’d never noticed it. Win for me.
Lacey’s location pinged close to the clubhouse. With a frown, I looked closer at the app. Motherfucker.
My stubborn, reckless woman was only a few doors down from my location. The exact spot? A strip club, specifically the one I planned to visit. Why the fuck was she there?
I planned to find out. Now.
Riding toward the location, instead of walking in case I needed to drag Lacey out and leave in a hurry, I left the clubhouse parking lot. One of our new prospects opened the gate, saluting as I rode by. I shook my head. I’d have to fix that.
When Maddog first called and asked me to join his new club, a brother chapter for the Royal Bastards MC, I leaped at the chance to leave California. After two failed relationships, several jobs that never lasted long, and my restless need to find purpose, I was ready for something new.
That was the thing no one ever told you about once you left active duty in the Marine Corps, how life would never seem as exciting, dangerous, or busy after sacrificing for the government.
Once a Marine, always a Marine. You retired or chose not to reenlist, but there was no “former” title. That life and its strict, rigorous structure stayed with you long after you stopped wearing your cammies.
I reached my destination and parked close to the entrance with plenty of light so no brave motherfucker might try to fuck with my bike. I invested in a high-quality cam last year, and I’d hunt down anyone stupid enough to fuck with my Harley.
Everything in Vegas was flashy, and this strip club was no different. The neon sign above the entrance blinked with a bare limb and included a red high heel. Below it, another sign read TOPLESS in all caps. You couldn’t miss it.
Loud music pumped through speakers placed around the room as I entered, pausing to take in the scene. A pole had been erected in the center, and two women wearing nothin’ but thongs danced in front of a large crowd. There were three stages, all with poles, and every one of them had a dancer wrapped around it.
Tables mainly were full, and several long couches with red leather lined the perimeter on either side of the bar. A few malepatrons were receiving lap dances while nearly every stool was occupied. Men laughed and drank, interacting with the topless waitresses who served drinks and cozied up for extra tips. I noted the two bartenders were a redhead and a blonde. Both were smokin’ hot and flashed broad smiles.
The management had taken time to train their talent. I could appreciate that. The girls were good lookin’ and not afraid to flirt. I liked the dancers knew how to work a pole. None of them hesitated to throw themselves into it, flinging their bodies around as tits and asses shook all over the damn club.
The décor could use updated. My gaze swept over the room, and I could see old stains and dirt that hadn’t been cleaned regularly. That would be one of the first things I changed. Sure, they wiped the tables and cleaned the poles. Probably the bar, too. But I wasn’t sure the floors, walls, and seats got the same treatment. Considering all the fluids that could drip around here, I wasn’t taking chances on what could spread.
The old management must have cared more about money and talent than sanitation, but they all fit together. All three were needed to run a successful business, especially long term. I’d have to bring it up to Maddog as I made a mental list of the other things I needed to add.
There were doors that led to private rooms, and it was obvious some of those lap dance offers included personal time with the girls for the right fee. Selling sex wasn’t new to Vegas, but it was still illegal. If the club wanted to run this business and turn a profit, we’d have to restrict sexual activity. The girls could do what they wanted on their own time.
I headed toward the bar, taking a seat on an empty stool. I didn’t see Lacey yet and hoped the tracker was wrong.