“What’s up?”
Rolling off the doorframe, he came further inside and dropped his massive frame into the chair across from me.
“Not a goddamn thing,” he said as the bass kicked up from the main room and Def Leppard’s Cherry Pie thumped through the walls.
Raven must be on stage.
Nodding along to the beat, I went back to sorting through the stack of twenties.
“Isn’t it your night off?” I asked, knowing damn well that it was.
“Yeah, so?” he shrugged as his eyes kept drifting toward the door like he was waiting to see someone.
I bit back a smirk. My best friend since elementary school was built like a brick shithouse and meaner than a rattlesnake when you crossed him, but for all his toughness, he had it bad for one of our dancers. He just refused to admit it.
“Lavender’s working tonight.” I said casually, just to watch him squirm.
His jaw tightened. “I already fucking know that, shithead.”
I chuckled. Oh, I knew he knew. I just wanted to fuck with him.
Before I could bust his balls any further, Sassy poked her head through my office door.
Out of habit, my eyes raked over her platinum blonde hair that was teased to Jesus, and her makeup that was done all up in pinks, purples and turquoises.
I had to hand it to her; the girl knew how to get attention when she was on stage. But as high maintenance as she was with all the glitz and glam, she was one of the good ones.
She didn’t start shit in my club, and she kept her private life outside the doors.
In my book, that made her the perfect employee.
“Hey, bossman,” she said, her voice tight, like she was uncomfortable about something.
“What’s up, Sass?”
She shot a glance over her shoulder. “Thought you might wanna know Sosha’s ex just walked in the door and he looks sloshed.”
My brows snapped together. “You gotta be fucking kidding.”
“This fucker again?” Gator rumbled, climbing to his feet.
My blood was fucking boiling.
Sosha’s ex was a piece of shit who thought his fists were the answer to everything. The last time he’d shown up here drunk off his ass, the poor girl had ended up in the hospital with a broken nose and a concussion.
When she’d come to me and said she wanted to leave him, I’d never been prouder of the girl. The club had set her up in one of the trailers we owned in town and helped her get a car. Yeah, she didn’t have anything. Her fucking ex had made it his mission that she depended on him for everything. Cocksucker.
Now she was thriving and happier than I’d ever seen her. So, no. No fucking way was I going to let the asshole waltz back in my club and terrorize her. I don’t fucking think so. Not on my watch.
Shoving the money into the safe, I climbed out of my chair. “Where is he?”
“Main floor. By the stage.”
I was already moving with Gator hot on my heels as I ate up the distance between my office and the front of the club.
I spotted him immediately. He had Sosha pressed back against the wall near the stage, her dark hair falling in her face as she tried to make herself smaller. Her ex, Dale, was leaning over her, one meaty hand planted on the wall beside her head, the other gesturing wildly as he screamed something in her face.
And the thing that sent me into a blinding rage?
