“I need three blow jobs, a circle jerk, and a wet dream,” I called over the bar to where Dakota was tossing bottles and pouring drinks like a seasoned pro. All while wearing nothing but a string bikini top and some booty shorts which showed more skin than the panties I normally wear on an everyday basis.

Dakota grinned at my drinks order. “That sounds like one hell of a night right there,” she yelled back over the thumping bass. I flashed her a devious smile and a playful wink as I leaned against the bar waiting for her to fill my tray.

While I waited for Dakota to pour my shots, I checked over my outfit. It left little to the imagination. Not quite as revealing as Dakota’s, but she was also a hell of a lot more confident than me.

My club issue booty shorts did little to cover anything. They were so short my ass hung out the bottom, and the crop top I had on boosted my small breasts up around my chin, almost suffocating me.

Could I really complain, though?

For one, it was a job, and I earned a really good amount of money while working here. And two, the club owner, Dave, made sure to always have an ample amount of security watching over the wait staff. Empire was a cross between a nightclub and a strip club—something Dakota forgot to mention when we came on our mission for work. Girls danced on platforms and cages throughout the large space. People can throw money in, and the girls often end up naked, but it was honestly up to each girl whether they just danced or tried to earn a few extra dollars.

It was strange because the environment’s different to what I assumed a strip club was like. There are people here of all ages. It’s the most popular dance club in Tucson. It’s more about the dance than it was about the girls removing their clothes, and I kind of like that.

“Are you sure?”

I looked over to see Dakota with her cell phone pressed to her ear, her finger in the other, as she tried to focus on what the person on the other end was telling her. The furrowed brow and way she was chewing her lip held me there, despite me trying to balance a full tray with the drinks I ordered.

Whoever she was talking to, it sounded serious.

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as possible,” she yelled into the phone. “Okay, bye.”

She hung up, then ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, her eyes looking around like she actually had no idea what she was going to do next.

“Dakota,” I called out, waving her my way. She leaned over the bar toward me. “Are you okay?” I spoke into her ear.

She shook her head. “My brother was in a car accident. They rang his girlfriend, but she’s taken Evie up to Montana to visit with her family. I really need to get to the hospital.”

“Go,” I urged. “You need to go.”

Dakota and her brother were extremely close. He was a couple years older, and he and his girlfriend had a little girl called Evie who was the light of both of their lives—and Dakota’s as well. They lived up in Phoenix, so Dakota needed to leave now so she could get there within the next two hours.

“One problem,” she replied sadly, her eyes drifting upward to the VIP area upstairs. It was a massive space with its own bar and stage and looked out over the club below. I’d noticed that it was bustling with activity up there, but the men who were filling the space, they weren’t your typical customers. Some of them were wearing club colors, but I hadn’t paid much attention. I think hanging around with the Brother by Blood had numbed me toward bikers.

It was kind of normal now, so I didn’t often take a second look.

“What’s the problem?”

She pursed her lips tightly before letting out a rushed breath. “I’m meant to be dancing up in the VIP area at eleven. Dave won’t let me get away with not doing unless I have someone to cover me.”

I started to shake my head, ready to form the words, ‘fuck no’ or ‘hell no’ or anything that came before no.

Her eyes began to water, and her bottom lip slipped out into a pout. “Meyah, please,” she pleaded, climbing up onto her knees on the bar and clasping her hands together. Anyone who was nearby turned to look at the spectacle, and if so many people hadn’t been surrounding me, I probably would have tried to make a run for it.

“Stop,” I protested, trying not to laugh as she looked down at me with these huge puppy dog eyes.

“Please!”

“I don’t dance, Dakota,” I yelled.

“Please. Next time your mom rings, I promise I won’t tell her you’re next door with the whole football team.”

I cracked, laughing loudly as I remembered the way my mom had tried to act like she was somewhat okay with me having an orgy with the football team, until I told her Dakota was just winding her up and she’d praised the Lord. Since the shit hit the fan with Ham, Mom had been crazy supportive and a lot less judgmental.

I guess maybe she was trying to make up for basically saying I reminded her of my dad. Or maybe she knew my heart was already hurting enough after what happened with Ham that she was going to encourage anything which might make me a little happier.

“I’ll give you my tips for tonight. Plus, you’ll make big money upstairs.”

“Come on. Help her out,” people started calling, and Dakota’s grin got wider and wider.

I took a deep breath looking up to the second floor and seeing a handful of men looking over the railing, watching us. I saw a flash of one of their faces just as he turned and walked away. It looked familiar, and just like that, my curiosity was piqued, and self-preservation went down the drain.

“Fine!” I laughed, throwing my hands in the air.

Dakota leaped off the bar. Cheers going up around us when I caught her in my arms and she laid kisses all over my face. Before I lost my balance and we both ended up in some messy pile on the floor, I placed Dakota on her feet and swatted her on the ass. “Go!”

“I love you, Meyah,” she yelled, and I rolled my eyes as she headed out the back to negotiate with Dave. Hopefully, he’d be happy with the swap considering Dakota was a regular dancer upstairs, and I was well… a virgin, I guess you could say.

Thirty minutes later, Dave was leading me up the back stairs. “I know you’ve got rhythm, at least. It’s like you can’t move from one table to the next without shaking your hips,” Dave joked, and I laughed softly. He was right, I loved music, and I loved to move. When a song was on, if it had a good beat, my hips had a mind of their own.

“So, Dakota seemed to think you’d be okay with the visitors we have tonight,” he noted casually, but he looked at me over his shoulder questioningly.

Dave wasn’t like what I expected him to be. I’ve heard horror stories of girls working at clubs, and the owner being a real fucking creep. Dave, on the other hand, he was playful, but also took our safety and respect seriously. He never got too close and made sure we weren’t doing anything we felt uncomfortable with.

“The bikers?” I questioned, letting him know I’d spotted some of the bikers earlier. “No, they don’t worry me, as long as they keep their hands to themselves.” The tone of my voice was more confident than I felt.

It’s true, being around the bikers didn’t make me feel out of sorts. I learned a long time ago that while it was good to be cautious, most motorcycle clubs no matter how bad, had one major rule and as long as you followed it, you wouldn’t have any issues.

Respect them, they will respect you.

That’s the theory I was going to run with anyway.

I liked dancing.

Being around bikers didn’t stress me out.

This should be a breeze.

I stood with Dave at the rear of the small stage while Anika finished her set. She was this tall Amazon princess who had the most brilliant smile. Not to mention she was an absolute sweetheart. I stood and watched in awe as she owned the stage, the men sitting at the tables around the platform were all smiling and enthralled with her as she shook her hips to the beat and flirted playfully.

There was one table in particular that seemed to be less drawn by her presence. Two club members sat with their backs to me, two men in dark suits sitting opposite them, with deep frowns on their faces. One of the bikers with their back to me was young, his inky hair long and pulled back into a short ponytail. The other was older, his hair white-ish but peppered with gray and by the looks, a full beard that shaded his jaw and upper lip. There was no way in hell he looked frail, though, his shoulders were broad and sturdy, and the part of his bicep which was visible was thick and muscular and covered in old tattoos. The ones that had that weird green tinge and were faded and barely distinguishable.

“Make sure you stop at the end of your set and acknowledge the Club President before you leave the stage,” Dave warned, nodding to where Anika was crouched next to the private table with the four men. She murmured something to him, and he nodded, excusing her.

Dave was encouraging but still skeptical, I could tell by the tenseness in his features. I’d only been working here for two weeks, and that had all been waiting tables. The laws in Arizona had only just changed, so eighteen-year-olds were now allowed to serve alcohol which was perfect for me. I didn’t mind mixing drinks and wiggling my butt a little as I moved between tables to get an extra tip or two

This though? I’m pretty sure this was stepping over my line, but it was only a one-time deal.

It wasn’t like I was looking to permanently dance at the club.

Anika skipped off the stage pulling notes from her skimpy outfit. But they weren’t dollar notes. No, these were twenties and fifties, and there were a hell of a lot of them.

Anika looked up and smiled brightly. “Good luck, Meyah. You’ll do great.”

I couldn’t help but feed into her energy.

Screw it. I seem to be on this rollercoaster ride of doing shit that I know my mom and my family won’t exactly love, so why not add stripper to the damn list.

This would make Ham fucking furious.

The thought boosted me just that little bit further past the point where nerves had the possibility of winning out, and I pushed my shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

“Anika, do you mind hanging out here for a little bit until Meyah finds her feet,” Dave asked, looking at me seriously. “I don’t mean to put you down, Meyah, but I’ve seen good girls like you get out there for a few minutes and freak out.”

I shrugged, not taking offense to his words at all. Honestly, it was kind of comforting to have Anika there ready to save my ass if I can’t handle it.

“Move about the stage. Smile. Look like you’re having fun,” Anika encouraged. “And don’t forget to pick up the money they toss on the stage.”

Bishop Briggs’ song River started to play, and I took a deep breath, lifting my chin high as I stepped up onto the stage. Taking each step with the dark electric beat of the music.

This is just like dancing in my room.

Suddenly that saying ‘dance like no one’s watching’ made so much sense.

I wonder if it was a stripper that made that up?

Unconsciously, I rolled my body to the music, my hips and my feet hitting the beat while I moved my hands above my head, dragging them through my hair. I couldn’t help but smile. This song was dark, and the bass thumped through me, dragging me away from the reality of the situation I was actually in.

Lord help me if my mother ever found out I moonlighted as a stripper.

She didn’t even know I was working at Empire. If she knew what I was doing, that whole calm façade she’d managed to hold onto so far would be well and truly gone.

Movement caught my eye, there was money being tossed onto the stage. I looked up. Men had their eyes glued to me, and just when I thought it would make me feel dirty or cheap—it didn’t. In that moment, I was strong, confident, important, and beautiful.

And it had been a long few weeks since I’d been able to say that.

Since the one person who I thought saw me better than anyone else, showed me he was just like the rest. I forced that thought out of my mind. I’d done enough crying over Ham. I needed to start building my strength so when I saw him next, I wouldn’t feel like my heart was being torn from my chest.

I’d tried to convince myself I was being stupid, that I could find a college guy who was older, who had a future and his head screwed on right.

But the truth was, Ham was never just a teenage crush on the local bad boy.

He was far more.

My heart began to thump harder, and tears welled.

Fuck.

No matter how much I tried, I felt like everything came back to him.

Determined to prove I was stronger than this shit, I plastered a smile on my face as I dipped to the floor and plucked the bills off the stage, seductively tucking them into my bra and the sides of my booty shorts.

As I went to stand up, suddenly some asshole reached out and grabbed a handful of my ass. Dave had strict rules about the men touching the girls on stage. It was a big no, and it was one of the reasons why money was thrown onto the stage for the girls to collect, as opposed to allowing the men to tuck it into the girls’ clothing themselves.

I jumped up in surprise, taking a step back from the younger looking biker who was already walking back to his table across the room, high fiving his buddies and laughing hysterically. Because apparently, these young guys thought they could get away with shit like that, with no repercussions for their actions. In my head, I knew I was being overdramatic, playing up a situation because I was already emotional about things with Ham, but I was sick and fucking tired of these assholes thinking they could treat women like objects.

I wasn’t a club girl. I wasn’t their property that they could do with as they liked. I wasn’t a little girl who could be pushed around anymore.

Heat swept through me, and before I knew it, I was walking down the stairs at the end of the stage and moving through the VIP area with my hips swinging to the beat of the music and wishing I had my gun. Anger had taken over my body, and I was allowing it to burn free, sick of trying to tame it.

No fucking more, hell no.

“Meyah,” Dave called from behind me, but I ignored him, on a direct path toward the young man with blond hair, so light it could almost pass as white.

“Hey,” I called, making him turn in his chair, his eyes lighting up when he saw me walking in his direction. I stopped a couple of feet in front of him and smiled. “Maybe you didn’t know that there’s this thing called a ‘no touching rule’ around here.”

I was actually surprised that security hadn’t already come to back me up.

Blondie snorted. “You must be new. There ain’t no rules for us, sweet cheeks.”

My nose crinkled at the sickening pet name, my body running on pure adrenaline now.

Walk away, Meyah. Just walk away.

My brain was urging me to get the hell out of there, knowing these guys could be dangerous if I fucked this up. But then I remembered what happened the last time I refused to take a stand. I spent how many years at high school being tormented because everyone knew I was a pushover, crying myself to sleep because I allowed their words and actions to hurt me.

Now, I was in Arizona. This place was new, it was fresh, and if I walked away right now, I was starting my journey here exactly how I did at high school—giving people permission to treat me like shit, allowing them to walk all over me and know that I’d just take it.

Not today.

Not anymore.

I plastered on a sweet smile, moving forward and placing my hands on the table behind blondie, caging him in. His eyes instantly lit up as my breasts came just inches from his face.

His hands moved to my hips, and just as he thought I was going to straddle his lap, I placed one of my knees between his legs, the bend in my knee resting right on his cock. I caught the moment he realized he’d gotten himself into a bad situation, and a dark look fell across his face. His friends around the table just watched on, obviously not viewing me as a threat.

“Touch me again,” I whispered in warning. “And I will crush your dick flat, and then pierce it with the heel of my stiletto.”

His fingertips dug into my skin, and I tried not to cringe with the pain. It was like he wanted to throw me the hell away from him, but he was too scared to move in case my threats became a very painful reality. There would be bruises there tomorrow, I could guarantee it.

“Meyah,” Dave growled from off to my right. But even with his angry voice, he sounded a little impressed. “Let’s go.”

I pulled back, my eyes staying connected to the little shithead, but noticing now that I’d drawn the attention of the entire VIP area, a lot of bikers were watching me. Strangely, with different looks on their faces.

I took two steps back, unexpectedly feeling a little overwhelmed and vulnerable.

Suddenly, blondie flew out of his chair. His face red with anger and embarrassment, his hand raised to strike. My heart leaped out of my throat, and I gasped, anticipating the impact and how much it was going to hurt. A flash of movement and blondie’s hand was caught midair allowing me to release the air into my lungs, calming my shaking body, but not for long.

My eyes focused on the hand inches from my face which still held a firm grip on blondie’s wrist, and for a second, I wondered whether my eyes were playing tricks on me.

The hand, the tattoo, the scope of a gun that had the deer in its crosshairs. It wasn’t as perfect as I’d seen in the photo. His skin wasn’t as tight. The tattoo not as pigmented as it once was, but of course, it was almost twenty years older now than it had been then.

“Huntsman,” blondie questioned, confirming my suspicions.

Holy shit.

I finally found the courage deep in my stomach to turn my head and look at the man who I supposedly shared half my genes with. This was the man who should have kissed my skinned knees, who should have taught me how boys were meant to treat me, who I should have run to when I was upset and when I felt scared.

He wasn’t paying blondie any attention, his eyes were focused on me, narrowed darkly and suspiciously. The both of us just watched each other for a few seconds. I took in the shape of his face. The deeply rooted frown lines that marred his skin, but how he still looked reasonably young. The only noticeable difference was how his hair had lightened and grayed with a few remnants of the dark colored hair he once had on his upper lip and in the front of his hair.

“You looking to make a point, little girl… make it somewhere fucking else,” he growled, his voice rough and raspy, like he’d smoked far too many cigarettes during his lifetime. “You’re lucky I have a little respect for Dave here, and I found you trying to break Sprint’s dick kind of amusing. But now I’m done. Get her the fuck out of here.”

Dave stepped in between us, apologizing profusely while Anika grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back of the stage. “Come on, girl, let’s get out of here before Huntsman doesn’t find you so entertaining anymore.”

I moved with her, but my eyes continued to be permanently attached to Huntsman. He noticed, too. He might be older than he used to be, but he was not a fucking fool. With one last look, I took in his club cut, trying to find the club’s name or something I could go on, but things moved too fast. Well, too quickly to catch their club name, but there was one patch on his cut I managed to read.

President.

Well, that’s different.

Holy shit.