Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
One sad bouncer stands at the door, scrolling on his phone. He looks up when we get close and he looks really fucking shocked. “You guys, uh… you can go on in.”
“Wait. We’re looking for someone,” I say.
His face goes white.
“Not here to cause trouble.” Probably. “Just tell us if Bone’s around.”
He grimaces, taking a long moment to decide whether it's worth the risk, but then nods. “Try far back, at the tables behind the bar. He usually hangs out there. But you didn’t hear it from me.
Skyhigh pats him on the back. “Excellent, my friend. Thanks.”
We push into the darkness of the club.
There isn’t much to make the place stand out on the inside. It’s dark, the decor is dated and worn, and there’s a woman on stage who looks like she'd rather be doing her taxes. She’s pretty enough, but to me she looks bored. Not that the men sitting next to the stage seem to notice or care. They’re too busy drinking and staring at her tits. Maybe the club has spoiled me, or maybe it’s spending time with Willow, but watching the stripper go through the motions isn’t doing it for me.
Blinking away from the stage, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. There are more people here than I thought at first. Mostly men, of course, but some couples, even some ladies on their own sitting at the bar. I’d be willing to put money on most of them being available for a fee. Servers wearing little more than a few strategically placed scraps of cloth move sensually between the tables, taking orders and putting up with getting their asses pinched and smacked as they pass by customers.
Fuck, I don't judge what anyone does to pay the bills. We all make our bucks somehow, and I don't have much of a moral leg to stand on, but there's still something about these places I find damn depressing. Sex should be fun. Sure, we got sluts at the club, but at least they wanna be there and they know they’ll be taken care of so long as they are under our protection.
Dragon gives my shoulder a push. “Come on.”
We set a course for the bar, following the bouncer's directions. On one side, there's a big cage set into the wall where a topless girl is dancing under a red light. I get the bartender's attention, while Skyhigh directs Crank and Poe one way, and Dragon and Sinner the other, blocking off lanes of escape, just in case Bone doesn't wanna talk to us. It's been known to happen despite how fucking charming we are.
“Looking for Bone,” I say as low as I can when she comes to take our order, slipping a fifty across the bar.
It vanishes. She jerks her head in the direction of the tables. “Back left. Purple glasses.”
We set a course for the back table. The others close in behind us, making sure there's no way out. I check my piece in my belt, making sure it's sitting loose. Just in case.
Bone is skinny and pale, living up to his name. In a white sweater, with thin rimmed purple glasses and a comb over, he looks like he should be doing the accounting in a bookstore, not selling tips from a strip club. I catch sight of a tattoo on his neck, and something gold around his wrist, but he’s the kind of guy you could pass every day on the street and never notice.
I slide into the booth on one side of him and Skyhigh on the other. He's buried deep in his phone but looks up when we sit down. “Can I help you gentlemen?”
“I don’t know, mostly it seems you’re trying to fuck us over.” I throw my arm onto the couch behind him, leaning in, fully aware that it makes my cut fall open and the grip of my iron visible. His eyes flick down and widen, and then I've got his full fucking attention.
His Adam's apple bobs with a harsh swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I stay away from the Sons. You’re bad for business, so whatever you’re here for, I swear I had nothing to do with it.”
This is our big information dealer? Looks can be deceiving, I guess. Hopefully. That fucking kid sitting in our cell is betting his continued existence on this tip.
“Just want some info. I hear that's what you deal in.” Skyhigh pulls his attention the other way. Bone's eyes keep flicking back and forth, trying to keep an eye on both of us at once.
“I’m a nobody. Can't imagine I've got anything you want,” he tries.
“Pretty sure you do. See, we keep running into trouble lately, and word is, you’re the one making it happen. Does the name Harry ring a bell?”