I let my gaze move around the room. This place is a dump. There’s no other word for it. Outside wasn’t much, but somehow, it’s worse on the inside. The damn chair actually creaks under my weight. I’m not a small man, but I’m lean with muscles. The chair groans like I’m a six-hundred-pound man. I actually tighten up all my muscles, waiting to plummet to the floor. I’m relieved when that doesn’t happen.
“Any change in Ghost?” Hound asks, and Ride and I just shake our heads no—almost in unison. “Shit,” he hisses.
“That pretty much sums it up,” I mutter.
“I’ve got to say, this place is a real shit-hole, Hound, but the local talent is fucking great,” Ride says with a sly smile, leering towards one of the stages that’s set up.
“It does have its charms,” Hound laughs.
This place has one giant stage with the bar in front of it. Convenient, you can drink and watch the girls shake their money makers—at Moneymakers. My joke makes me smile, as lame as it is. Yet, around the room are small, round stages with poles for the girls to dance, and there are chairs around them. Ours is built that way, but it doesn’t have a dancer, probably because the club isn’t that crowded yet. Then, again, it is still daylight outside.
I follow Ride’s line of sight and see exactly what—or who—he’s looking at.
She’s the hottest piece of ass I’ve seen in a long damn time—hell, maybe forever. She’s moving against that damn pole like it’s the only cock she’s seen in a fucking decade. Her curves are open for display in that damn G-string she’s wearing. She’s got some kind of black leather get-up covering her tits, but it’s molded to her body like a second skin. Just watching her makes my cock ache and swell with hunger. I reach under the table to adjust myself, my reaction to her that potent.
“Fuck, I bet those long legs would wrap around a man while he was eating out that snatch and smother him,” Ride says lazily, his gaze still glued to the dancer. Of course, mine is too. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look away.
“It’d be a hell of a way to go,” Hound chimes in. “But you better stop looking. That woman of yours is way too jealous for you to have a roving eye.”
My lips twitch. He’s not telling a lie. Ride is stuck in a perpetual, I-like-her-pussy-hate-to-give-it-up-but-the-woman-is-a-twisted-bitch relationship. His woman is sexy as hell to look at. She’d probably even give the chick on the stage a run for her money—okay, maybe not. Still, Ride’s woman is a jealous, conniving bitch. She tries to control Ride with all that is her. She did work for the club as an unofficial club doctor for a while. We all liked her. Hell, we gave her the name Doc. It wasn’t original, but since she wasn’t Ride’s official old lady, giving her a name meant something.
She was a damn good doctor for the most part, but Toi intimidated her, made her feel like she wasn’t going to be top female at the club anymore—not that she ever was. Where she got that none of us have a clue. Doc planted ugliness about Marcum in Toi’s head. Toi didn’t say shit about it really, at least not all of it. Still, Ride’s woman kept that shit up for a year until Toi got tired of dealing with it, slammed a medical book upside Doc’s head, and laid her out. The boys and I still laugh about that. Toi and Marcum didn’t find it funny. Toi told Ride that if she set foot in the club again that she’d show the woman what crazy was. Marcum banned her and then tied Toi to the bed for two days fucking her because he loved her fire.
Christ, women do crazy shit to a man. I haven’t met one I’d jump through hoops for, but that beauty on the stage could make me at least think about it.
“She’s gone,” Ride says, his voice emotionless.
“We’ve heard that song and dance before,” Hound laughs, and he’s not wrong. Those two go back and forth so much they could make you dizzy as fuck if you tried to keep up.
“Not anymore. It’s done. I don’t want to even hear the bitch’s name mentioned again,” he snaps.
Suddenly there’s a coldness coming off of Ride that even the gorgeous beauty on the stage can’t thaw. That’s definitely new. Whatever happened between my brother and Doc this time had to be bad.
“Damn,” Hound whistles.
“Let’s cut the chit-chat. Despite the entertainment, I want to find a hotel and crash.”
“Riding on a bike straight through getting to you these days, old man?” Hound responds, but Ride ignores him—unless you count the annoyed snort he lets out as a reply. “Okay, so, I’m afraid I don’t really have an answer when it comes to Ghost,” Hound continues. “When they found him, this sheet of paper was in his pocket,” he adds, tossing a torn, wrinkled, dingy, white piece of notebook paper about three inches long and folded to hell and back. I picked it up first, but I could literally feel Ride looking over my shoulder to read it.
Written on it was the name of this joint, a phone number and a name. Drew.
I frown. “Who’s Drew?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. I’ve been casing this joint and watching closely. So far, there’s not one person with the name Drew that works here. Which means, it was probably someone he just agreed to meet here. And that means…”
“That means our brother was probably ambushed,” Ride finishes.
“He pulls out of this shit, I’m going to kick his ass,” Hound responds.
I frown, already planning on joining in, but I have my mind working on trying to track down the only lead we have. “Have we looked at security tapes of this place to see if Ghost was even here?” I ask Hound.
“This shit place doesn’t have security cameras. Just those fucking dummy ones to make people think they’re being watched,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Un-fucking-believable,” I growl. That means the girl on stage that’s set to star in tonight’s spank-bank fantasies has zero protection. “What about street cameras? Surely this Podunk town has some of those.”
“They do, but I’m not a tech wiz, at least not good enough to hack into the police cams or the highway department.”
“You’re not, but I’m pretty sure the Devil’s Blaze chapter here has a guy that will fit the bill,” Ride responds to Hound.
“So, that’s the next move, then. Ride, you make some calls. Hound, you report back to Marcum,” I tell them, causing both men to turn and look at me.
“And what the fuck are you going to do, asshole?” Hound growls.
“I’m going to do some investigating of my own,” I tell him, my gaze moving to the woman who just finished up her dance. Another woman is getting out on the stage. She’s a blonde with big tits and a rocking body, but she can’t hold a candle to the woman I’ve been watching.
“I see what kind of investigating you’re doing,” Ride laughs. I don’t reply because he’s right—but he’s also not right. If I can get in good with the dancer, maybe she’ll have some information I can use. I have Ghost’s picture and she would have seen his cut, hopefully. If I happen to get laid as a bonus?
Then, I guess I’ll just be a lucky bastard.