Savage Hell always smelled like whiskey, sweat, and danger—the kind of danger that didn’t come with warning sirens and medical charts. It was the kind that had a pulse—almost as though the place was alive. That was the part of the club that she loved the most—the living, breathing part that made her feel as though she belonged to something.
Ruby parked her bike between Banshee’s custom Dyna and a blacked-out Road King with a serpent painted across the tank. She was in Royal Harlots' territory now and was safe, sure—but safe didn’t always quiet secrets.
Inside, the bar was humming. Neon lights glinted off the long chrome counter, and music hummed low through the walls. The Harlots were gathered around their usual booth—Rebel, Banshee, Sprite, Danger, and even a few prospects. They were her family, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself as she rounded the corner to join them.
“Look who’s officially off the clock,” Banshee called, raising her glass with a wicked grin. “Doctor Ruby’s in the house!” The table erupted with cheers. Ruby tried to smile and tried to feel normal, but she hated having any attention drawn to herself. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration for her first day as a doctor, but all she could think about was going home, taking a long, hot shower, and falling to sleep.
She slid into the booth next to Rebel, who nudged her with a teasing elbow. “Bet those patients today had no idea they were being treated by MC royalty.”
“Let’s hope not,” Ruby said quietly. She wasn’t ashamed of being a Harlot, but she didn’t advertise the fact that she was part of a local MC. A fresh round of drinks arrived, courtesy of the bar, but not from the bartender. The waitress said that they were from a biker at the counter. He was lean with shaggy blond hair, and Ruby wondered if she knew him. Tattoos crawled up his throat like ivy as he raised his glass to her with a smirk she’d seen before. Everything clicked into place, and she realized that she knew him from somewhere she never wanted to be recognized from—the strip club.
Rebel leaned over to her and whispered. “That’s Ant. He’s a new transfer who just came up from the Dallas chapter of the Royal Bastards. He’s been helping round up some gun runnersthrough the backroads down here in Huntsville in his spare time.”
Ruby knew that name. She had heard whispers about him. He was a nomad with sharp eyes. The type who memorized every face he saw. “What’s he do otherwise?” she asked.
“He was a Texas Ranger, but he’s joining Bolt at the FBI and giving him a hand while Jace and Winter figure out their next move,” Rebel said.
“He looks interested in you, Ruby,” Banshee teased from across the table. “Want an introduction?”
“Absolutely not,” Ruby muttered. The last thing she needed was for the new guy to realize that he knew her from the strip club, because she was pretty sure that she had seen him there the past few times that she worked. But it was too late. He was already walking over to their booth in the corner of the bar. Ant stopped right in front of her—eyes locked on Ruby like he already knew something he shouldn’t.
“You’re Ruby, right?” he said, his voice smooth—too smooth.
She nodded. “Yeah. And you are?”
“Ant,” he said, holding her gaze. “I knew I recognized you. I’ve seen you around before.” The table went quiet. Ruby felt her pulse spike.
She forced a shrug. “Huntsville’s not that big of a town. I’m sure that we’ve seen each other in passing.”
He tilted his head. “Nah, I’m not talking about seeing you around Huntsville.” That silence got heavier, and she knew that she was holding her damn breath. Ant leaned forward on the edge of the booth. “There’s this place off Highway 23—a little club called Velvet House.” Ruby’s blood froze, and she silently pleaded with him to stop talking. Rebel shifted beside her, sensing the tension.
“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Ruby said evenly. “I don’t spend time in strip clubs.”
Ant smirked. “I don’t spend time in them either—well, not for fun. I work in them. You know, security gigs for side money.” Her stomach dropped. If he was part of the club’s security team, then there was a good chance that he had seen her, and her lie would be exposed. Ruby couldn’t let that happen.
“I saw you there once,” he continued. “A few days back. Thought I recognized your eyes tonight. They are pretty hard to forget.” Her eyes had given her away, and damn if that didn’t piss her off. She should have worn contacts or something, but Ruby was sure that a wig was enough to conceal her identity. Her palms began to sweat, and she felt too hot all over. If he started telling stories—if even one rumor spread—the hospital would find out, and she could lose her license. Everything that she had built could unravel.
“I think you’re mistaken.” She forced steady breath. “I’ve been in school and residency for the last eight years. I didn’t exactly have time for nightlife, and if I did, I’d come here, not go to a strip club.”
Ant’s tone was gentle—but his stare was razor sharp. “You sure? Because I’d swear you were there, dancing. What was the name that you used?” Ruby couldn’t breathe.
Banshee cut in smooth as a blade. “She said you’re mistaken.” Ant blinked and looked around at the rest of the women. She could tell that he realized a line had been drawn, and he knew which side of it he stood on.
He raised his hands casually. “No disrespect. Just thought I knew her from somewhere.” Ruby forced her shoulders to stay relaxed, hoping that was going to be the end of the discussion. She didn’t blink or take her eyes off Ant, silently praying that he’d get the message and leave. He gave her a slow smile. “Guess I was wrong then.” But he didn’t look convinced. And Ruby didn’t feel safe knowing that men like Ant didn’t give up that easily.
As Ant walked away, Banshee leaned in close, her voice low. “You want me to handle that problem before it becomes one?” Ruby swallowed the urge to say yes. She didn’t need anyone else to find out about her secret.
“No,” she whispered. “No blood. I don’t need protection. I just need my secret to stay buried,” she whispered. Ruby noticed Banshee watching Ant as he crossed the bar, as though she was memorizing him, and that worried her. It was like she was preparing for trouble, and Ruby knew one thing for certain—secrets didn’t stay buried forever, especially not in the Royal Harlots.
ANT
Ant walked out of Savage Hell feeling like he’d stepped on something—and it’d slithered under his boot. Ruby Monroe—otherwise known as Scarlet, was part of the Royal Harlots—his sister club. He wasn’t sure at first, but her eyes were a dead giveaway. Her eyes had something else written in them. Something that he couldn’t get out of his head. Ruby looked like she wanted to hide under the table when he mentioned the strip club, and he should have taken the hint, but he kept pushing her for answers. And now, he was sure that they were answers that she didn’t want to give for fear of the other women finding out what she did in her spare time. But he couldn’t forget one thing about Ruby up on that stage.
Memories from Velvet House flashed like snapshots in his head—stage lights, shadows, cash, and a woman who danced like she had somewhere better to be. It was her, all right. It didn’t matter what she called herself—Ruby, Scarlet, or even Dr. Monroe. And when he heard that she was celebrating her first day on the job as an MD, he had to send over a round of drinks to help the Harlots celebrate.
The next morning, he walked into the Huntsville Federal Building for onboarding. Officially, he was a contracted operative—working with the FBI on intel-gathering tied to outlaw MC movements along the Dallas–Huntsville corridor. Unofficially? He was the kind of guy they sent in when things got murky. And there was a lot of murky shit happening around Huntsville.
He didn’t wear a badge. That was one thing that set him apart from the agents. Ant was the one who found the ones who wore the badge, and then he had to figure out if they deserved to keep it or not.
