Chapter Nine: Diamond
Smoke
I had never been a big fan of strip clubs. It wasn’t because of some sense of being high and mighty, like I was too good for a place like this. I was a red-blooded man who liked seeing naked women as much as anyone else.
I didn’t like clubs like this, and coming here alone could make a person seem creepy. But going with other guys was awkward. Knowing you and the guy next to you were turned on at the same time was uncomfortable, in my opinion.
I had only agreed to come to Sweet Spot tonight because we weren’t here for the show. Gunner, the vice president of Rebel Saints, had asked me to come with him tonight because we had heard that our rival club, Devil Riders, were squeezing the owner of this place for protection money. Meaning that if he didn’t pay them off, they’d wreck the club themselves, scaring away customers and probably terrorizing the girls as they caused pricey damage.
Not only was this a shitty thing to do, but it was a real problem for Rebel Saints because Sweet Spot was technically in Holbeck, which made it our territory. That was a big deal among motorcycle clubs and the reason the location of the club was listed on the bottom rocker beneath our patches. That way there was no doubt about what territory we held. The club was supposed to be under Rebel Saints’ protection.
Glenam was the next town over, and it was controlled by Devil Riders. Sweet Spot was close to the border between the two towns, which was probably why they felt bold enough to make this move, but we couldn’t let it stand. If what we heard turned out to be true, we were going to have to find a way to put a stop to it.
We had just entered the club and sat down, deciding to get the lay of the land before we started asking around about the rumors, when a song started up. First, my attention was drawn to the main stage, where a familiar-looking redhead sauntered out and made quick work of getting the crowd riled up. She was good, but I wasn’t focused on her act. It was the sense of knowing her somehow that really got my attention. I just couldn’t place her…
Then, it hit me. I had just seen her last night. She was that friend of Naomi’s, the one who’d brought her to Wheelz. I was sure of it. Her makeup was heavy tonight, and her hair styled differently, but it was her. Naomi had said they worked together. But that would mean…
My eyes trailed to the platforms on either side of the stage. On one was a Latina woman with jet-black hair dressed as a slutty schoolgirl, but the other…
It was her. Naomi. The mother of my child was spinning around on a stripper pole, wearing a dress that was basically just a scrap of fabric.
What. The. Fuck.
She didn’t want to tell me what she did for a living, and I had been too distracted by her foster kid story to question it too much. But now, I understood.
She didn’t want me to know about this.
For a long moment, I didn’t know how to react at all. I just felt stunned. Despite our heated first night together, before this I would have said that Naomi seemed like a sweet woman, slightly innocent. Her ambition to become a social worker and help foster kids made perfect sense to me. Now, as I watched her strip off her dress and toss it away, I was seeing a completely different side of her. A sexy, naughty side that caused an uncontrollable reaction in my body while making me shift in my seat to relieve the sudden pressure behind my zipper.
She was hot. Too hot.
And I wasn’t the only one to notice. When she came to the edge of the stage, the attraction I felt for her paled in comparison to the ugly emotion that sprang to life inside of me. Men moved in close, their hands reaching out to give her money and no doubt hoping to touch her in some way. Anger and jealousy had me gritting my teeth, and with that came the realization—I had real feelings for this woman.
She felt like my girl, whether that was true or not, and I didn’t like that these other men were looking at her. Then, I watched as she went for the front of her bra, my heart in my throat as I waited for her to open it and reveal herself to everyone. I fought to urge to storm up to the stage like a caveman and throw her over my shoulder before marching her into the back where I would insist that she cover up every inch of herself. Somehow, I didn’t think that would go over well. Security would probably have me booted out on my ass before I knew what hit me.
So, I sat there, sick with resentment.
Then, as if she could somehow sense my unjustified anger, Naomi looked right at me. She froze, and time seemed to stand still as we stared at each other. Her hand was still on her bra, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she sucked in a shuddering breath before blinking twice and looking around, almost as if she’d forgotten where she was. Seeing me had rattled her.
Suddenly, she stood, backing away from the edge of the stage. A sense of confusion ensued since she’d suddenly stopped dancing, and a few of the men who’d been enraptured by her performance let out disappointed groans or even jeers when she grabbed her dress and disappeared backstage.
“That was weird,” Gunner said from beside me.
When I looked his way, I felt surprised he hadn’t noticed the moment that had passed between the two of us. It felt like it was long and drawn-out, but that must have just been in my mind.
“Guess she didn’t feel like showing the goods. You wanna go talk to the bartender?” Gunner asked me.
I felt so thrown by seeing Naomi here that it took me a moment to even remember why we had even come in the first place. I wanted to go after her, to talk to her about this, but I just nodded. I needed a few minutes to wrap my head around the idea of her taking off her clothes for strange men before I spoke with her or else my jealousy would be impossible to hide. I might as well fulfil my purpose while I calmed myself down.
The man working behind the bar looked young, maybe in his early twenties, with eyes so dark they looked almost black and gauged earlobes probably big enough to fit three fingers inside. He was flirting with a waitress when we approached the bar, but he didn’t waste any time coming over to us and pulling out a couple of cardboard coasters with the club’s logo on them. He placed them on the bar in front of us, clearing away a few empty beer bottles. “What can I get you fellas?” he asked.
I was surprised to hear a Boston accent. This guy certainly wasn’t from around here.
“Information,” Gunner said. Not being the type of man to waste time, he produced a hundred dollar bill and placed it on the bar, holding it in place with the tip of his finger.
The bartender eyed the bill before nodding, and moving in closer. He leaned in, crossing arms on the top of the bar and pinned Gunner with an unblinking stare. “What do you need to know?”
“I want to hear about the Devil Riders.”