Never would now either.
Fuck.
I was half-past drunk when Gauge sat down opposite me with a beer in his hand. I glanced away from the little blond woman on the stage wearing nothing but a thong, nipple tassels, and a leash around her neck while she crawled across the stage. Another woman had the other end of the leash and she reached down and gripped the blonde’s hair, pulling her head back and baring her throat. My cock twitched when she winced, but it quickly died again.
“Casa and Cutter got this place running good,” Gauge said, and I grunted in agreement.
They had. Casa was perfect for running the place; the horny little fucker had an insatiable desire for women, so what better man for the job. And Cutter? He was good at running the books and keeping shit steady.
“He told you about the girl he has doing a special on Fridays?”
I glanced across and shook my head.
“Twenty bucks extra on the door on Fridays if you wanna see her pop drumsticks out her pussy.” He laughed, but my dark mood wasn’t shifting. “Other shit too. Bitch can fire ping-pong balls, bottle caps, all sorts of shit out of it. Can you imagine how tight that thing must be?” He bit down on his lower lip.
“There a reason that you’re talking to me about popping ping-pong balls out of pussy instead of getting to the real issue?” I drolled, picking up my whiskey and taking a sip.
Gauge’s smile fell and he nodded and took a mouthful of his beer. “What Hardy did wasn’t right.”
“What he did?” I laughed dryly.
“What he madeyoudo,” Gauge corrected. “But all that shit aside, we got the guy that shot Skinny. We got the mole in the club. New kid only been with us a few months. Found him listening in on shit he shouldn’t have been listening in on. Checked his ass out and found he has connections to the Burning Eights.”
My gaze narrowed, my features hardening. “Ripped?”
Gauge nodded. “Yeah, kid was loyal to them. Fucked us over good.”
We sat in silence for several minutes as we watched the girls on stage, one still on her knees and the other spanking her and calling her a naughty puppy. Shit was fucked up.
“How good is the intel?” I finally asked, looking up at Gauge.
“Solid. Hardy found a bunch of crap in his room—photos, code words and shit. It’s solid as they come.”
“Since when did Hardy search brothers’ rooms?”
Something didn’t sit right with me but I wasn’t sure what. If the proof was there, then what was to be said about it?
Gauge sighed. “Can’t you just be satisfied? This is a win for the club. For Skinny.”
“And Battle?” I asked.
Gauge smiled. “Hardy’s got a meeting set up with the Burning Eights’ new prez for tonight.”
“Lincoln?” I asked. I remembered him the night Ripped and Battle had fought to the death. How he’d let Battle and I walk away from it all. How he’d agreed that shit wouldn’t stick on either of our clubs afterwards.
And yet it had.
“Yeah, Lincoln. Seems all right, so far as I can tell.”
“He’s a lying son of a bitch. I’ll fucking kill him,” I gritted.
Gauge nodded. “If that’s what it comes to, I’ll back you. But we need to be sure.”
I swallowed the last of my whiskey. “I’m sure.”
“Well, we’ll take the meeting and see what happens. But I’ve got your back.”
I stared down into my whisky wishing for oblivion. The amber liquid taunted me, the lights above glinting off it and reminding me of Penny and the way her eyes seemed to glow when she was angry. Which was all the fucking time.
