Kansas looked on longingly. Bulldog looked amused, and Ghoul was poised for a dismissive joke, but Monster? He watched them go with a look of resignation. His wolf was way too defective to ever be domesticated. Not that he wanted to be anyway.
Did he?
No, he most certainly did not. He liked to drink when he was thirsty, fuck when he was horny, and leave his crap all over the floor for as long as he wanted. Since the club bought Taylor’s place and he and Kansas rented it, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. Kansas didn’t complain if he left a cereal bowl in the sink for a few days.
Plus, if their place got too messy, he’d grab Alex, Zach’s younger human brother from the clubhouse, and he’d clean it. Perks of having the kid around.
The closer they kept Alex, the less chance he would spill their secret. Zach had come into his wolf a handful of years back through a car accident and had no one to guide him nor explain the importance of discretion. His little brother, Alex, blabbed to the Prez’s daughter, trying to impress her, and that’s how they ended up on the club’s radar.
Monster smiled. Yeah, Prowler had shut that shit down the second the kid turned eighteen.
Now that he was their gopher, and Prowler laid out the rules to him, he would barely even look at Cass, much less talk to her.
“Our new guys here yet?” Monster asked Ghoul.
They were waiting on a couple of vamps looking to gamble and fuck. The King’s Wing would accommodate them, emptying both their balls and their wallets.
More citizens started trickling into the bar, so their conversation turned mundane. Sports, the weather, betting on how long it’d take before Kansas picked up the mistletoe he had on the bar and tried to get the new ladies who’d arrived to give him a kiss—again.
Ghoul downed his drink, then slapped Monster on the back. “We’re up.” He nodded toward the door.
Monster stood, and they went to meet their new clients.
“Mr. Smith, Mr. Wesson.” Ghoul extended his hand to one, Monster the other. “Nice to see you both again.”
Yeah, not their real names, but after they were vetted and briefed, the club gave them monikers for when on property.
“Follow me,” Monster said rather curtly. They wanted them on their toes their first visit, and Monster drew the short straw since they’d already met Ghoul.
People took Ghoul’s friendly smile at face value, but the fucker was a psychopath if he needed to be. Monster was to be the show of force this time. That’s why he was at the bar in the first place.
Once they traversed the dim hallway to the back, passing through a locked PRIVATE door, Monster turned without warning and spun Smith. He had him against the wall with his hands pressed against his lower back, bad cop style. The other man tried to step forward, but Ghoul got the jump on him.
“Uh, uh, uh.” Ghoul clicked his tongue. “Down, boy.”
So, the one Monster had was the higher up of the two, and the other was the hired help. As he kicked the man’s legs wide and started patting him down, he spoke low and menacingly.
“Tell your dog to sit. I’d hate to have to put him down. I’m sure you were told you’d be searched.”
“Ian,” was all the man said, and Wesson nodded.
After patting him from behind, he ordered him to turn. Smith complied, arms out before speaking again.
“It was instinct, I assure you. Ian was just taken by surprise.”
A grunt was the only response Monster gave him. The way he talked was way too formal.
“Beyond that door, it’s not Ian,” Ghoul warned.
Smith nodded.
Once the search was complete, they would escort the men to their vice of choice.
“Well,” Ghoul rubbed his hands together. “What will it be first, gentlemen? Poker or poke her?”
“Poker.” The boss answered, while his right hand had something else in mind.
“You got it. Monster, take Wesson here and introduce him to the ladies. Mr. Smith, follow me.”
