“Ah, not much, boss. Renting her out a night at a time like the whore she is could be more economical for you in the long run,” he offers with a smirk in my direction.
“Huh. Maybe,” my father easily agrees with the disgusting man. Rubbing his chin, Harry adds, “Or I could use her to kill two birds with one stone. I know a fucker riding a very high horse that needs to be taken down a few notches…”
“Yes! That’s what you should do. Let me help you take him down!” I exclaim. Anything, any-fucking-thing, is better than being sold to a different man every night!
“Eh, it’s a big decision. I think I need to sleep on it,” Harry says as he grabs the arm rests and struggles to his feet. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I shout. “Wh-what am I supposed to do until then?”
“Wait,” he replies.
“Wait?”
“Yes. Right there. Don’t move. Dirk is going to keep an eye on you. And if you try to leave, we’ll just go ahead and go with his idea of renting you out by the night or by the hour, I don’t really care which.”
Great. That’s just fucking great.
So much for expecting any leniency from my dear old dad.
Chapter Three
Malcolm
When I bang on the table to bring the meeting to order, all of the gathered members of the Dirty Aces shut up immediately. I glance over at my VP, Nash, who is still shuffling through a stack of papers until he looks up and gives me a nod.
“All right, fellas, I’m going to make this quick so we can get out to the boat and get to work tonight,” I tell them. When I look down the table and see Fiasco’s looking down at his crotch, I stop and stare at him until he looks up at me. His pale blue eyes look vaguely confused, and he swipes a hand through his sun-bleached blond hair before giving an embarrassed grin. “Something interesting down there, big guy?” I ask him.
“Aw, shit, sorry prez. I had an itch, that’s all,” Fiasco says as his cheeks redden.
“You know staring at it won’t make it better, right?” Wirth asks. Reaching a tattooed hand up to scratch his own shaven head, Wirth adds, “You gotta get in there and really dig if you want it to feel better.”
“He was looking to see if anything was moving down there!” Devlin howls with laughter. Devlin and Fiasco are the biggest guys on our crew and are both tasked with doing any ‘heavy lifting’, or bare-knuckle work, that comes along.
“I was not!” Fiasco protests. “Besides, even if the itch was the bugs again, they can be really hard to see!”
“The bugs?” Silas, our secretary, groans. He turns his deep-set dark eyes to me with a grimace. “Tell me that dumb bastard doesn’t have crabs! For fuck’s sake, he lounges around here with his dick out half the time!”
“It’s not the bugs!” Fiasco protests again. “I shaved and then it was really hot today out at the new mall we’re building. None of you would know shit about actual hard work. Even Wirth over here just drives the heavy equipment. Dev and I are the only ones who actually swing a hammer!”
“Because that’s about all you’re good for,” Silas sneers.
“Hey, that’s enough,” I shut them all up in an instant when I raise my voice. “Fiasco, do what you need to do and shut the fuck up. The rest of you ignore him. Now, Nash and I have been talking a lot about doing some patch-overs lately to get some new blood into the crew. He’s been doing some research on some other local MCs, and he’s come up with some potential candidates.”
“Potential is the keyword, here,” Nash interjects.
“Before we agree to do any patch overs or even vote on anything, I want to meet these guys. Let’s bring them here, pour a few gallons of booze down their throats and offer them a buffet of pussy to see what they’re really made of.”
“Sounds like a damn good time,” Wirth laughs. “I don’t think any of our prospects would turn down that sort of opportunity, prez.”
“I’ll set it up,” Nash agrees.
“Next month,” I add. When he sighs heavily at me putting it off, I explain to him and the other guys why I want to wait. “First, we need time to hire a PI to scope them out.”
“A private investigator for all five groups? You really think that’s necessary?” Nash questions.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Are we gonna weed out the ones with criminal records now too?” Devlin snorts. “‘Cause that would be all of us. I know you’re paranoid, boss, but you really need to chill the fuck out.”
“I don’t give a shit about their criminal records,” I argue. “I just want to know who they associate with, the people in their circles. Make sure there’s no law enforcement or mafia-types pulling their strings.”
“Fine,” Nash agrees on a sigh. “We’ll vet them for a few weeks before we bring them to the boat to party.”
“Meeting adjourned,” I say with a slam of the gavel, ready to drop the topic.
The guys get up to leave, making their way to the door. On his way around the table, Silas slaps my shoulder and says, “No offense, man, but how long has it been since you spent some time with the Booty Call Squad? You’re wound tight and are gonna snap if you don’t find a way to relax soon.”
“You should worry more about yourself and less about me and my dick,” I warn him before he throws his head back and walks out chuckling.
Naomi
I’m not sure what my father has against Malcolm Hyde and I don’t really care. From my limited research on the biker, which consisted of asking the cooks if they had heard of him once I returned to work last night, I know he’s the president of the Dirty Aces motorcycle gang, and that’s about it. I seriously doubt that he’s a good, honest guy, especially since the first thing anyone said about the Dirty Aces was that they were a bunch of shady drug dealers.
My mom died of an overdose ten years ago when I was only eleven, so I have no qualms about stealing from the guys peddling that crap on the streets. Not that she was ever much of a mother to me before she left this world. If not for my grandparents, I would’ve ended up in foster homes. I’m thankful to Gram and Gramps with every breath and still miss them like crazy.
For a year now, I’ve been on my own with only one relative still breathing – my asshole father. Harry’s never been there for birthday parties or holidays. He wasn’t the kind of dad to even bother sending a card in the mail. I’ve never asked for anything from him, and he’s never given me anything other than the money I desperately needed a few weeks ago when I stole from his personal collection of ‘historical artifacts’.
Now, I have no choice but to make amends by snooping on the Dirty Aces and their president, in particular, as well as trying to embezzle as much as I can while I pretend to be a hardworking employee.
The first step in this plan of his requires me to quit my waitressing job and try to get hired onto the Aces’ gambling cruise ship. It’s not like they have a help wanted sign up or anything on their clubhouse. I doubt a gang that deals in illegal activities ever asks strangers to come work for them.