Even though the DEA didn’t use the information, there is plenty of recordings and incriminating evidence to use as leverage with the threat of exposure, as my father said in his note. He also said to keep it a secret, using it only as a tool against Viper. Somehow, Viper must’ve suspected or actually found out about my father’s dealings with the DEA, making him understandably paranoid.
After another shower to insure the musky, potent scent of Deuce was down the drain, I dress, and enter the newly appointed kitchen downstairs. I had the foresight to document everything on my phone, but the transformation is truly amazing. Shiny steel appliances, all up to code, working walk-in refrigeration, and, of course, a garbage disposal. My heart kicks up half a beat when I visualize the black plastic bag under my bed, but now I’m being paranoid. There is no way anybody knows about its contents. Even Fist thought it was garbage.
I stay in the kitchen for the rest of the day, organizing and setting it up how I want it because, after the bar is up andrunning, we’ll open the kitchen. Nothing extravagant, just good comfort bar food made right. I already have a few ideas about the menu, and since I always enjoyed cooking, I hope I’m up to the challenge. Of course, we’ll hire waitresses and kitchen help, but with simple, good food, people will stay longer and drink more.
I haven’t seen Deuce all day. I know he’s in the building because a few times, I heard his raspy tones. I can’t help wondering if he’s avoiding me, or if I’m just projecting. Either way, better we let last night stay where it belongs. A moment of weakness that both of us gave in to—and will never happen again.
DEUCE
The next morning, I feel pretty fuckin’ good, and that bothers the shit outta me. Probably the first night I slept good since Viper worked me over. No need to examine why I slept so good. Nope, not going there.
Heavy labor consumes my mind and body for the rest of the day. Perfect. I haven’t seen Sammie, but I know she’s in the kitchen. Don’t ask me how I know; I just fuckin’ do. Like some sensory shit where I can feel her before I see her.
Fuckin’ nuts.
Scratch spends the entire day over at the Royal Flush sorting shit out with Jack. Getting the passcodes and going over liquor invoices. We all know strip clubs are a huge moneymaker if they’re run right—and Scratch runs them with an iron fist.
No drugs in the club, no dancers using during working hours, and no fuckin’ in the champagne rooms. Bouncers stay in the room with the girls at all times. This prevents getting busted for prostitution and a shitload of other charges, plus it ensures the women who work for us are top-notch. Not worn-out junkies spreading their legs and looking to score their next hit. Bouncers even walk the girls to their cars at closing, ‘cause some guys are pervs.
Bringing the Royal Flush up to those standards would take a little time, but in the end, it would be worth it with an increased cover charge for drinks that aren’t watered down and women who aren’t half out of it.
By the end of the day, I’m beat, and after grabbing a burger and fries at the diner with Ace and Speed, we head over to the Royal Flush. Scratch and I go over some invoices and boring office bullshit. We toast the new ownership at the bar, and then I head back to The End.
Tonight, I pass Sammie’s door without a second glance, enter my room, strip down, shower, then flip on the TV.
So what? She’s in the next room. Doesn’t mean shit to me ‘cause I have way too much on my mind for distractions. And she’s a big fuckin’ distraction.
Chapter Twenty-Five
DEUCE
Two weeks later, we have everything ready to open The End on the following night. Ace and I stand in the center of the bar, surveying our work.
“Gotta tell you, when I first saw this place, I thought you were fuckin’ crazy, but you were right, it definitely had potential.”
I take in everything from the polished wood bar, brass fittings, new bar stools, shiny barware to the beer taps not clogged with shit. Top-shelf liquor is stocked behind the bar in front of huge mirror with the Kings logo etched into the glass. Pool tables in the back with framed posters of vintage Harleys on the walls, and hot babes straddling those Harleys. Shit, it’s a biker bar, but opening it up for the public will give people the feel of walking on the wild side even if only for a night.
Lastly, we knocked the wall down in the office, expanding the room, and sectioning off our room for church, complete with a separate doorway and a key-coded lock. I still don’t have the table I want, but all in good time, ‘cause my funds are nearly gone. I’m not worried though ‘cause once we get both The End and the Royal Flush running, we would be raking in the cash.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, brother.” I hold out my fist, and we tap. “Couldn’t have done without all of you.”
The other brothers are over at the Royal Flush surveying the damage, but they all know how I feel. We’ve worked toward a common goal, and nothing is gonna stand in our way.
“You were the one who made it happen. I never would’ve believed you could pull off the deal with Sammie, but you did.” Ace smirks. “And you did it without taking your dick outta your pants.”
I huff out a laugh but stay silent.
I never would’ve thought Sammie would make a deal with us, but she did, and now The Kings are back in Atlantic City to stay. No more bullshit, no more fuck-ups.
I also never thought Sammie would let me in her room every night for the past two weeks, but fuck me, after that first night, I couldn’t stay away. Every night for the past fourteen, I’ve knocked on her door, and she’s welcomed me with open arms. No bullshit, no excuses, no promises, just the two of us getting down and dirty. Just our bodies giving and taking what each other needs. It’s wild and hot, and, shit, it’s an addiction stronger than blow, and way the fuck better.
We hardly say two words to each other. We let our bodies do all the talking, and it’s fuckin’ amazing. I don’t understand it, and I don’t think she does either, but . . . every fuckin’ night she drains my dick dry until I stumble back to my room, spent and feeling like the fuckin’ king of the world.
After the opening, and when shit settles down, I might tell Ace about Sammie. Not that there is too much to tell except hot sex, but I don’t like keeping it from him, especially after the last time. I want him to know this is nothing like the shit with the DEA bitch, and I sure don’t want him finding out on his own first.
SAMMIE
Last night, we made it all the way to the bed. Amazing considering the first few nights, we never made it out of the living room. Up against the door, the back of the couch, and some nights, right on the damn floor. We actually started on the couch and ended up on the floor.
