One of the Raleigh police officers jerks his chin in my direction as he walks over to my table. He’s going to talk to me about what went down, and while I would have been more than happy to have this conversation an hour ago, I don’t want to any longer. I want to watch her.
He sinks down in the chair beside me. I don’t even know his name, and I don’t ask, either. He starts to tell me about the sting and the arrest. All details I have to force myself to soak in so I can relay them to Bullet and the rest of the Reapers.
I’m trying really hard to listen to him, to pay attention to everything he’s saying, but I can’t give him the focus he deserves, not when she’s up there. All I can do is think about that woman on the stage and how much I want to keep watching her and forget that anything else in the world even exists, at least until she’s finished.
“Shit went just as planned. Guy took that bait, knew she was young, and gladly and gleefully offered to pay her extra. What a sick fuck. They’re going to love him in prison,” he murmurs, chuckling at his own words.
I can’t help but laugh as well. That asshole assaulted, in every way possible, Cidney Whitaker. Not only is she Ivy’s cousin, but she’s essentially Goose’s woman even though he hasn’t officially claimed her yet. I’ve known her since she was a kid. She’s like my little sister, and I would do just about anything to protect her.
Not to mention, all of that was after he shot Lightning in an attempt to get to her.
The drama of it all is convoluted and stupid.
Goffredo must have something wrong with him upstairs, because no person in their right mind would have behaved the way he did. And I could maybe excuse him shooting Lightning, if it was a mental break or some such shit, but not what he did to Cidney.
Never.
He cannot live after what he did to her, and thankfully, he won’t. Once he’s sentenced and put into the system, Hogg, who is serving a life sentence, is going to ensure that Goffredo dies a slow, painful death.
It’sjust dessertsthat will keep us from going to war with his family, considering we’re, as a club, contracted to protect their shipments on the road. A tangled fucking web of convoluted bullshit, that’s what it is.
And I’m glad to be one step closer to being done. I’ll be even happier when we can wash our hands of our entanglement with this organization altogether.
“You ever thought about getting out of the mountains and working for us?” the officer beside me asks. “You’re a good cop.”
I jerk my chin, and my lips twitch into a smirk. “I like the mountains,” I reply.
“It’s a good place to maybe work a few years after retirement, but you’d make a lot more money here, be busy as fuck, too. Never a dull moment in Raleigh.”
I shift in my seat, trying to hide my smile because he has not a single fucking clue that I make more a year as a member of the Vicious Reapers MC than he makes in five years. At least I’m hiding my involvement well enough.
“I like the peace and quiet. The city is too much. Plus, I’m reaching twenty years soon.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I could see that. Hey, maybe I’ll come and hang out for a while, see what the quiet mountain life is about.”
“Anytime,” I say.
It’s a lie.
I don’t need him or anyone else knowing what I’ve got going on in Thunder Rock. I’ve got it fucking great there, and the last thing I need is internal affairs breathing down my neck. He shakes my hand, then stands to leave. I hang back, my gaze slowly shifting to the stage again.
She’s gone.
My golden goddess.
MILLIE
My eyes must be deceiving me. I thought I saw Axton in the audience, but that can’t be possible. No way would he need to come to a strip club. Not when he can have half a dozen women at any given moment in Thunder Rock or anywhere else he goes that has a Vicious Reapers clubhouse or affiliation.
I shake my head, trying to get the thoughts of Axton out of it, my hands trembling. There’s no way that was him in theaudience. It was just an illusion from the lights and my mind playing tricks on me.
I’m just seeing things because I’m back in North Carolina and know he’s nearby. Sinking down in the chair across from my station, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath, holding it for a moment before I open them again and take in my reflection.
I shouldn’t have come back here. I should have stayed in Las Vegas, where I could be lost and stay lost. I would have if I weren’t desperate. Not desperate for money, because making money, for the first time in my life, was easy for me.
Stripping wasn’t something I just did. In Vegas, beneath the lights, it was something I excelled in. I danced, and I’m good at it. Probably the only thing I’ve ever truly been good at in my life. I showed up in town eager to learn, and my teachers were amazing. They were happy to pass on the baton and teach me everything they knew. For a decade, I thrived.
But I witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.
