Sarah

There’s a reason I’ve never waitressed before—I’m clumsy as hell.

As I wobble around on my high-heeled boots, a tray balanced on my hand, I weave my way through the crowd of swaying bodies, desperately praying I don’t drop these drinks on any innocent bystanders. I’ve been on shift for less than an hour, and already I’ve spilled five drinks, slipped in a puddle of God knows what, and had three phone numbers slipped into my hand alongside a tip.

It’s only my second night on the job, and this time I’ve been left on my own. Last night, I’d spent the entire shift shadowing Miranda as she flirted her way through the crowd, effortlessly filling orders, and even breaking up a fight before it started. This time, Miranda’s covering one section of the room while I cover another. Sucks to be the people stuck on my side.

When I make it to the waiting table full of guys, I call out the names of each drink as I place them down. One of them stares up at me, his lips turned up in a handsome grin as he hands me a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change, gorgeous, and keep ’em comin’.”

My cheeks flush at the offhanded compliment, my ears growing impossibly hot. “Will do,” I say, gifting him with my first real smile of the night.

I know it’s silly to be flattered by some guy ordering drinks in a bar, but I haven’t been outright complimented like that in a very long time. Not since Mouse. As far as he’d been concerned, I was the most beautiful woman in the world, and that’s how he made me feel every single day.

I continue through the room, taking drink orders as people stop me. It’s not until I’m almost to the bar, about to place my orders, when I find myself yanked backwards. The empty glasses I’d collected on my tray topple over, several of them smashing to the ground. When my rear end lands on an unfamiliar lap, I yelp.

Turning my head, I come face-to-face with a man I’ve never seen before. His eyes are glazed over as he gives me a drunken grin, his tongue coming out to lick his lips. “Well, hello little senorita.” His arms clamp around my middle, pressing me into him and making it hard to breathe. “I’ve always had a thing for the Latino ladies. What time do ya get off work, sweetheart?”

This time, the flush on my cheeks isn’t from being flattered. This time, it comes from pure terror. “Let me go!” I holler, pressing against him with my forearms, desperate for him to release me.

“Awe, babe, you don’t have to be like that. I just—”

Before my brain can fully catch up with the rest of me, I’m standing on my own two feet, the tray still balanced on my hand despite my wobbly knees. Eric is in front of me, his body bent forward as he goes face-to-face with the grabby man in the chair.

The music drowns out what they’re saying to one another, but Mr. Grabby’s hands come up, surrendering. He offers me a shamed look, but Eric’s already up and whisking me away toward his place at the bottom of the stairs.

His face, which is usually so friendly, is twisted in anger as he places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?” My body trembles as I nod, my gaze sliding back to the man in the chair. “I’m so fucking sorry, Sarah. I was dealing with another group of assholes or I would’ve been there sooner.”

Frown lines crease Eric’s handsome face as he stares back at me in earnest, clearly berating himself for not being there. I take a deep breath and lift my hand, pressing it to his arm. “I’m fine, really. You were there before it got out of hand. Thank you.”

His eyes search mine, his jaw set in a hard line before he finally nods. He opens his mouth to reply, but something behind me has him straightening, his face now all business. Turning, my gaze first comes across a young girl wearing a simple pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, her hair hanging limp around her makeup free face.

It’s not her that has my body turning to stone, though. It’s the man with her, his hand firmly wrapped around hers. “Bosco?”

The shock on his face surely matches my own. “Sarah?” His eyes dart between me and Eric, and where my hand remains on Eric’s muscled forearm. His jaw ticks and his nostrils flare a little as the silence stretches out between us. He shakes his head slowly, a deep frown furrowing his seamless brow. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The girl at his side presses closer, her free hand gripping his arm. Bosco’s gaze never leaves mine as I step away from Eric and force myself to stand tall. My pulse races, and an inexplicable anger burns hot in my belly.

“I work here now,” I bite out. He blinks at that, his head tilting to one side, his lips pursed. I motion to the girl clinging to his arm. “And who’s this?”

The jealousy I feel as she presses impossibly closer to him is overwhelming. I want to rip her hair out and smash her face in. I want her to take a giant step away from him and remove her filthy hands from his arm. I’ve never been a violent person—I abhor violence—but this bitch clinging to Bosco right now is about to bring out a whole new, unexplored side of me.

Bosco looks down at the girl and straightens, his fingers wrapping more firmly around her hand.

“You know what?” I snap, my heart clenching with pain and anger. “Never mind. I’ve got work to do.” Turning on my heel, I storm away from them, desperate to escape the possessive emotions I thought had died along with my fiancé.

Bosco

Sarah’s ass in that short skirt moves farther away from me while my brain’s still trying to figure out exactly what the fuck had just happened. Since when does Sarah work at Chrome? And since when does she get pissy about seeing me with another woman? She’s made it clear several times that she sees me as nothing more than a friend. My gaze slides to the bouncer, who seems just as shocked as I am. And who the fuck is this guy that Sarah looked so cozy with?

Thin fingers press into my arm, and I look down to see Rachel’s nervous eyes watching me. Right. The reason we came here in the first place.

“Need to see Pimp,” I say to the beefcake security guy that’d been way too fucking close to Sarah.

He gives his head a slight shake as he rips his gaze away from Sarah’s retreating form, looking to me. “He expecting you?”

“Nope. Tell him Bosco’s here.”

He holds up a finger, telling me to wait as he presses a button on his headset. He relays my message, and then with a nod of his head, he steps aside. “Top of the stairs.”

“No shit,” I sneer as I brush past him, making sure to bump his chest with my shoulder, knocking him back a step.

Just before I open the door to Pimp’s office, Rachel tugs on my arm. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she says. Her brows are pulled in, causing a light crease to form between them.

My hand is still on the doorknob when I lean down to catch her eyes. “Do you trust me?” She pulls her lip between her teeth, her eyes filled with uncertainty, but after a few moments, she nods.

As I raise my fist to knock on the door, it swings open. Pimp’s large frame stands on the other side, his eyes going directly to Rachel, who stiffens and steps behind me, using me as her own personal human shield.

“Bosco,” Pimp greets. He moves away from the door, holding it open for us to come inside. His gaze follows Rachel as we pass.

Pimp is intimidating—the man is huge. He’s only in his late thirties, but his eyes look like they’ve lived a thousand lifetimes. He’s a man of few words, always listening and assessing. I’ve seen him take down three men at once in a fight, simply because they weren’t respecting one of his waitresses. And that’s why we’re here.

Club Chrome may belong to the Kings, but it’s all Pimp’s. He runs a tight, extremely profitable business entirely on his own. His staff are thoroughly vetted by a standard only he understands. One thing he’s known for, though, is hiring women who’ve had it rough. He gives them a job, and if needed, a place to stay. A chance at a new life. All of these are things Rachel needs.

Pimp takes a seat behind his desk and I sit in the chair across from him, pulling Rachel down into the one at my side. “Hey,” I mutter, unsure of where to even start. I don’t want to give too much away. The last thing I need is the club finding out about my own addiction. Not now. The time to tell them was when I started prospecting, but I hadn’t done that. I was too fucking afraid they’d kick me out on my ass, so I improvise. “I was wondering if maybe you might have any job openings for my friend, Rachel.”

Pimp’s brow lifts in surprise, his eyes darting from me to Rachel as he taps his fingertips on top of his desk. Rachel and I both sit still as statues waiting for his answer. Leaning back in his chair, he chews on his lower lip, his focus completely on the frightened woman at my side.

“How long you been clean?” he finally asks. “And don’t fuckin’ lie to me. I can see the withdrawal coursing through your veins from here.”

“Two days,” she says, her voice almost inaudible over the muffled base of the music on the other side of the door.

“You got a family?”

Rachel swallows and slowly shakes her head from side to side.

Pimp nods and continues staring at her. Finally, his gaze turns to me. “How are you involved with her?”

“Long story, man,” is all I can think of to say.

His fingertips drum a short beat on the desktop as he looks back to Rachel. “This ain’t a fuckin’ halfway house. I help women out of bad situations, but I ain’t responsible for keeping needles outta their veins. They gotta do that themselves.”

Rachel’s head drops forward, and I can feel the wave of shame wafting from her tiny form.

“You want a job here?” he asks, leaning forward as she looks up. She nods, her eyes showing a faint flicker of hope. “Get yourself clean. Two weeks, that’s all I ask. Clean yourself up, prove to me you can do this shit, and I’ll help you out. Deal?”

Her eyes light up. “Deal.”

Pimp’s face transforms with a smile I’ve never seen on him before; one he never shows us at the clubhouse. It’s warm and welcoming, and full of understanding. A smile, I now realize, he reserves for the women in his care.

“And you,” he says, turning to me. “I’m gonna want to hear that fuckin’ story. And soon.”

“Deal,” I reply, knowing that I can’t hide my truth forever.

I watch with narrowed eyes as he smirks. “That all you wanted to ask me?”

Fucker. He knows it’s not. “How long’s Sarah been working here?”

Pimp cocks a brow in my direction. “Shouldn’t you already know the answer to that?”

Pinching my lips together, I curse under my breath. I was with Sarah just a couple days ago. How much can one woman’s life fucking change in two days? “How long?”

Pimp chuckles. “This is her second shift. The men are lovin’ her too.” My gut hardens at the thought of any other men “loving” Sarah in any way. As he watches my reaction, his chuckle turns to an all-out belly laugh. “Don’t worry, lover boy. We’ll take good care of your girl.”