Dance into My Life (Nasty Bastards MC Book 4) Page 2

  It’s been a while since I’ve been in there, no need to when I got a roomful of whores who will do a lot more than dance and shake their tits at me.

  “You gonna manage it?”

  I shrug a shoulder as I lift my hand and place my palm against his chest. “Luella manages this place so well, don’t even need to fuckin’ be here anymore. Might as well.”

  He snorts. “Fuck off,” he says with a laugh.

  He knows I’m messing with him. I got a club to run, the mechanic garage, and I have this shit with the LA Mafia still on my back, plus I’m balls deep in recruitments and patch-over offers. So, no, I won’t be running a bunch of bitches shaking their asses for dollar bills.

  “Hoping that Keith will manage it for a paycheck.”

  “Damn, that’s a good idea.”

  Laughing, I shake my head a few times. “Had a few of those in my day. Anyway, I have to meet with some guys about patches. You hold down the fort here?”

  He jerks his chin. “Fucking Rebecca’s minivan is back in the shop. Ironfist and I are going to work on it together. We’ve done it separately, but it keeps breaking down.”

  “Need any help?” I ask.

  He moves his head from side to side. “Nah, we’ll get it patched up. That thing’s limpin’ along. She really needs something new, but her old man is fucking worthless.”

  “She should leave his ass,” I say, even though I got zero fucking clue what the situation is with her.

  Bowie lifts his chin in a jerk, his eyes finding mine. “She absolutely fucking should. Don’t know why she’s still hangin’ on. Though guessing there’s a reason, and I’m honestly not sure I need to know that reason.”

  His words are clear enough to me. Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around his shoulder and give him a shake.

  “You’re a good man, August,” I say, using his real name, something I don’t ever do. But this is bigger than the club. This is father-in-law and son-in-law shit. “Offer her a place if she needs it with her kids. Whether it’s now or sometime in the future, make sure it’s clear there is no time frame on that, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” he rasps.

  Leaving him, I head toward my bike. It’s parked in the back of the garage, and I have to pass all of the bays and my men working their asses off as I do. This is always what I wanted for me, for my club, a clean operation… well, at least one.

  We’ll never be a clean club, but this will be, this garage. This is our place where we can just do what we fucking love, no matter what the fuck is going on in the club. A place we can get away from whatever is happening, whatever bothers us.

  Once I’m outside, I turn around and look at the back of the garage.

  I built this.

  For me, for my brothers.

  This is who we are, what we love. Even if it is a hell of a lot of work. And it is, but it’s ours.

  MARILYN

  “Shit,” Synergy announces as she walks into the dressing room.

  The club has been open for several hours, but I haven’t done a dance yet. I’m okay with that, this job is just to help Jefferson have a better life. It is not my favorite thing on earth to do in the evenings. So, if I earn enough in one night to pay a bill for the week, I’m good with that.

  “What?” I ask, glancing down at my phone, then letting out a sigh before I shift my attention back to her.

  “That room out there is full of a bunch of hot ass, badass, dudes.”

  “From where?” I ask.

  I can’t imagine these hot ass, badass dudes being from anywhere around here. They must be from out of town or something. I also wonder when these super important people are going to show up.

  “Nasty Bastards MC. Girl, I have heard about their parties. Top notch. I’m hoping that one of them will buy a lap dance and maybe I can get an invite to the next one.”

  That name sounds really familiar, Nasty Bastards, but I can’t place it and I’m about to go on stage, so I push it out of my head. Whoever they are, it doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m not going to be asking to be invited to any parties. I need to focus on my dance.

  I’m not the best dancer in the club by far. Synergy is a master on the pole, and I’m completely subpar, but people seem to enjoy my naughty secretary dance a hell of a lot. I even bought some fake black-rimmed glasses and everything. No way could I wear my prescription ones up there.

  Thankfully, my glasses are needed, but I’m not completely blind without them. They’re more for preventive care, so that my eyesight doesn’t get worse. I can’t always read small print at a distance, but for the few minutes on stage for a dance, I don’t need them.

  Plus, I think that they sense my natural shyness, something I’ve learned men find intriguing. I was not made for this job at all, in fact, in the real world, I am an actual secretary. I’m studying to be a paralegal, or at least, I was until Jefferson came into my life full time.

  Walking out of the dressing room, I hurry to the side of the stage just as the lights start to go down. Looking down at my black high heels, I wonder how this truly became my life. The music starts before I can figure out my conundrum, and that is my cue to stuff everything down and get on with my night.

  Climbing the short stairs, I’m thankful for the umpteenth time that Chris makes sure the bright lights are right in my face, that way I can’t see the audience. He always has my back on that. In fact, everyone who works here, aside from creepy Greg, is really awesome.

  I dance, pretending to be a sexy secretary, my short skirt showing the cheeks of my ass before I eventually rip the Velcro away, which leaves my bottom half in only a thin G-string and my black high heels.

  On top, my little white top is still tied between my breasts, and I crouch down in front of the stage, spreading my thighs as I do. I lick my bottom lip as sensually as possible as I reach for the top and tug on the ends, releasing it.

  Shrugging my top off, I bite my bottom lip as I toss it away. Then I rise, straightening my legs before I walk around the stage, rolling my hips, I lift my arms and arch my back. I do all of the things that I need to do with just my pasty hearts covering my nipples.

  When the music ends and the lights dim again, I let out a sigh before I hurry off of the stage. I know that Tiara is going to be collecting my money for me, thankfully. It’s part of what she does. She doesn’t dance, but she does collect the tips and she also helps out in the club. She’s basically an assistant manager.

  “Girl, you were on fire,” Tiara announces as she gives me the money from the stage.

  There is a lot there, more than I would have even guessed. It’s a blessing, no matter how I got it. I thank her, then organize it and tuck it away in my small locker before I put on my little pair of stretchy, barely there hot-pink shorts. They match the pink heart pasties covering my nipples perfectly. It’s probably my favorite outfit ever, of the stripper outfits that I wear.

  We always have to go out after our shows to mingle with the crowd. It’s the one thing that I absolutely hate about this job. I don’t really care for dancing on stage, but as long as Chris can make the audience disappear with the lights, I’m okay with that.

  “You did great,” Keith practically shouts as I step out of the dressing room.

  Tipping my head back, I look up into his eyes. He looks stressed as shit, but he gives me a grin. “Thanks,” I say.

  “You’ve been requested for the Black Room,” he announces.

  “Keith,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head, lifting his arm, he wraps his fingers around my bicep and squeezes gently. “You don’t have a choice. You are who he wants. There was no other option that would work.”

  “Keith, I’m a little hesitant,” I breathe.

  He shakes his head a couple of times, his fingers tightening on my arm before he jerks me roughly, then he releases my arm and takes a step backward, running his fingers through his hair.

  “You don’t have a choice. Nothing will happen, he knows the rules.”
>
  I open my mouth to protest again when he leans down, his face close to mine.

  “This is important. Please,” he begs.

  Swallowing, I nod my head once, my eyes searching his. “Okay.”

  He straightens, clears his throat, then jerks his chin as he walks past me. Apparently, he’s going to deliver me to whoever this is waiting for me in the Black Room. Once I’m in front of the door, I look at the black, solid thing as if it’s going to jump out and bite me, staring at it, wondering who the fuck is going to be on the other side.

  Turning my head, I look back at Keith. He gives me an encouraging smile, but I don’t think that he’s going to help me in any way. And he doesn’t. He just continues to smile. Shifting my attention back to the door, I reach forward and wrap my hand around the knob, twisting it before I push it open.

  “Well, hello,” a voice murmurs as soon as I walk into the room and my eyes widen at the same time I suck in a breath, staring at the man who is sitting in a chair facing me.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MARILYN

  Holy fucking shit.

  Mr. Legend Nelson, Esq., stares back at me. My fucking boss. He smiles, stands to his feet and walks toward me. He stops in front of me, dipping his chin so that he can look down at me. He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

  “I guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought that I did.”

  I blink a few times, wetting my lips before I let out a sigh, then my eyes flick down to his black vest and I lift my gaze back up to meet his.

  Nasty Bastards MC.

  “I don’t think that I know you very well either,” I say, arching a brow.

  He tucks his chin down, looks at his vest, then lifts his eyes back to meet mine. “You wanna tell me why you’re here? I pay you more than average for your position, or do I not pay you enough?”

  Instantly, I feel like shit. Mr. Nelson is a great boss, he pays me extremely well, plus I have insurance and benefits. He also probably would have given me a raise or a loan or whatever I needed had he known my circumstances, but I never told him. My change in circumstance is not someone else’s problem.

  “It’s personal,” I say, attempting to square my shoulders.

  He doesn’t say anything immediately, his eyes focused on mine, holding my gaze in silence. Then he clears his throat and takes a step toward me and another until he’s standing right in front of me. He’s close, too close. I can feel his disappointment in me.

  “Mr. Nelson.” My voice comes out on a tremble, and I try not to cry, but I’m standing here in pasties and hot pants with my boss. It’s embarrassing as hell and all I want to do is cry about it.

  “I’m not going to judge you. Hell, you could judge the shit out of me, and you’ve never said anything. But I am going to offer you my help, in whatever way you need it. That is open ended, and I’ll see you Monday morning.”

  He gives me a grin, then brushes past me to the door. He opens it, closing it softly behind him, and that is when my knees give out. I don’t fall to the floor, but I do stumble forward and grab onto the arm of the black sofa for support.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, then I close my eyes and try to calm down from what has just happened. My boss, my attorney boss, just freaking saw me strip on stage. I’ll never emotionally recover from this, but then that image of the patch on his vest pops into my head.

  Nasty Bastards MC.

  My eyes open and my lips part. Oh my god. Realization slams into me. He’s one of them… I’ve only heard about them, and not really much about them. When Synergy was talking about them earlier, I didn’t even pay much attention. They’re kind of legends, the men of the Nasty Bastards MC.

  Their clubhouse is out in the country, down a road that you do not travel unless you’re looking for trouble. And as much trouble as I’ve had in my life, I have never been one to actually seek it out, so that road, I’ve never traveled down.

  But I know my boss, he’s not evil or bad. He’s not perfect by any means, but he’s a good person. And to think that he’s one of them, it makes my stomach twist. I don’t know how that makes me feel.

  Then I remember when a group of them came into his office not too long ago. They were rugged and sexy, beautiful even, and they scared the absolute shit out of me. They terrified and intrigued me all at the same time.

  They were his friends. Holy. Shit.

  PREZ

  Handles emerges from the private room, his brows knit together as he looks behind him at the closed door, then back to me. I’m leaning against the wall across from him, my shoulders on the hard surface, my boot flat against it as well to prop myself.

  “That was Marilyn. I knew it was, but I needed confirmation.”

  “Marilyn?” I ask.

  His lips twitch and his gaze lifts to mine. “My secretary.”

  My eyes widen and I have no doubt that they practically bug out of my head. I remember his secretary. She was a hot piece, but skittish, scared, quiet, with her little black-rimmed glasses and skirt. She was definitely not someone that I would ever have imagined dancing on the stage in a strip club.

  “That was her with the sexy schoolgirl kind of getup?” I ask.

  The images are burned into my head, because it was hot as fuck. She may not use the pole like some of the other girls, but she did not need it. The sweet sensuality of her shyness was everything it needed to be.

  He nods his head. Fuck. She was a goddamn knockout, though it doesn’t really surprise me that she looked as amazing naked as she did clothed. She was hot when I saw her in his office a few weeks ago.

  Clearing my throat, I’m trying not to be disrespectful, because this is his secretary, this is someone that he knows, but my cock is twitching at the thought of that body on stage. Then the concept of that hot body beneath mine. Shifting my gaze over his head and toward the door that he just emerged from, I think about slipping inside and taking my shot.

  “I don’t want to know what’s going through your head,” Handles murmurs.

  “You really don’t,” I say on a laugh, my attention shifting back to him.

  As much as I want to walk past him and into that room, I can’t tonight. We have to meet with Keith. There is a lot to discuss, and business always comes before cunt. As much as I wish it didn’t have to—especially tonight.

  “Keith’s waiting,” I say.

  Handles grunts, then together we make our way toward Keith’s office. He’s sitting behind the desk as we slip into the room. Handles closes the door behind us as I walk over to the chair and sink down across from Keith. Handles sits in the chair next to mine.

  “Did you look at the documents?” Handles asks.

  Keith shifts in his seat, then nods his head. He looks pathetically sad, and I do feel bad for him, but this is something that he did to himself. He took a risk, and I have to give him props for that, but this particular risk was a failure. That doesn’t mean the next one will be, but this one, without a doubt, was just that.

  “I did. They look fair,” he admits. And they are. I’m not in the business of fucking people over. All I want is what is agreed upon and what is fair. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Handles nods, then clears his throat. “Come to my office tomorrow and my secretary can notarize everything. We’ll get it filed with the county and do the transfer of everything then.”

  I almost say some smart-ass remark about his secretary, but I don’t. This is not the time nor the place, and hell, Keith might know exactly who the secretary is. I don’t know how much he knows about Marilyn.

  “I also have a preliminary offer to make you,” I announce, shaking off thoughts of the sexy secretary.

  Handles’s gaze shifts to me and he narrows his eyes. He has no fucking clue what I’m going to say and it’s almost comical. But I’m not going to manage this place and none of my men are either. We’re not made for this shit.

  “Preliminary offer, but as long as the books look good, and everything ch
ecks out, I wondered if you would continue to manage the place for a paycheck?”

  Handles doesn’t object, in fact, he jerks his chin up in a swift move and raises his brows. He likes the idea as much as Bowie did, and that makes me feel good. Because I got no desire to manage this place, but I damn sure have a desire to make the kind of money that I know this place can make. Maybe one day Keith will be in a position to buy it back at fair market value, that’s something that I could consider one day too.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “You still owe the money on the building and whatever loans you took out. No reason to put you even more in debt. I’m an asshole, but I’m not cruel just for shits and giggles.”

  “Thanks,” he says, and I can see that the stress on his face has lifted slightly.

  Standing, I look over to Handles who rises to his feet as well. “Monday nine o’clock in my office, address is on the letterhead. Be ready to sign.”

  “I’ll be there,” Keith murmurs.

  We leave the office and head out of the building. Straddling my bike, I stare at the brick building with the flashing neon sign of a woman’s body dancing. Handles lifts his hand in a wave and leaves.

  I can’t, not yet. There’s something keeping me here, or maybe more like someone. Looking down at my watch, I bite the corner inside of my mouth as I stare at the back door. I stay there for far too long, watching, waiting, like a fucking creep.

  The door opens and the women start to filter out and toward their cars. I decide that I need to at least make myself scarce, so I move my bike to the side of the building, facing the back parking lot.

  I watch like a total fucking creeper. My focus saved for one person and one person only. That sexy as fuck secretary, Marilyn. Even in the dark parking lot, I see her as she walks toward her car.

  But then something catches my attention causing me to frown at the sight.

  There is a man standing out with the women, his arms crossed as he watches them get into their cars. Except, when Marilyn is making her way toward her vehicle, he walks her to it. His hand on her back. He’s too goddamn close to her. I watch. Her body is stiff, and I don’t know how I know, but even at a distance, she looks uncomfortable to me.