Page 58 of Taking Denver

It’s been a long time since I’ve gone to war. And this will be closer to an extermination than a battle, but I don’t take threats lightly. Doing so would make anyone look weak, and I’m far from that.

So, to threaten Denver?

I don’t care if I have to take on the world.

Chapter 21

Denver

“Staff room, stock room, VIP lounge… office is up there.” Harley points at a room at the back of Pulse, seemingly suspended in the air, the front wall made up of glass. It likely has a perfect view of the club. “Security cameras are in there, the safe, too.”

“And it’s glass?” I ask, arching a brow.

“Bulletproof glass,” she adds. “We learned that the hard way.”

I follow Harley through the club to a door that leads us into a black-painted back room. A set of metal steps leads to the office. She swipes a keycard to open the office door and, when it closes behind us both, uses a separate key to open a second door. The space is big, with a desk and two couches, and the view over the club is impressive.

I’ve been home a week, and every night, I’ve been in Ranger’s bed. We haven’t slept together, but the proximity is making it difficult, so I decided this morning that I should visit the club I now own. Maybe it’ll help calm the guilt churning in my stomach.

It’s an uncomfortable first meeting between the manager and me. We’re around the same age, but while I spent most of my twenties working my way through the shopping district of San Francisco, Harley had been running Pulse. She’s been here since it opened, and the staff respect her, but now I’ve been given a senior role with no experience and no desire to even be here.

“The office is soundproof,” Harley says. “I can give you the safe codes, computer passwords…”

“Don’t bother,” I say. “Is there a security camera in here?”

Harley considers me for a moment. “No.”

I lean against the desk. “Good. I’m gonna be honest with you, and I want you to be honest with me. Forget my name for the next five minutes, okay?”

Harley eyes me quietly. “Okay.”

“I’m not going to run this place. We’re just going to make it look like I am. What’s your salary?”

Harley hesitates but seems to relax a little. “Eighty.”

“What’s mine?”

“Two hundred.”

My mouth drops open. “Two hundred thousand dollars? But I won’t be doing anything? I’m basically just a poster girl.”

Harley shrugs, clearly agreeing.

“Ranger issuchan asshole. We’re switching salaries. You get mine, I’ll get yours, and you do whatever you’ve been doing. I’ll talk to the accountant. He’ll arrange everything,” I say. “Sound good?”

Harley stares at me. “What’s the catch?”

“Well, I’m asking you to lie to Ranger Luxe. That’s a hell of a catch, isn’t it?”

“I won’t lie to him,” she says. “I like my spine where it is.”

That’s fair.

“Okay, fine. He asks anything, then tell him that I said he’d okayed it. Lord knows he loves an excuse to scream at me.” I slap my hands together. “Drink?”

We return downstairs and sit at the bar. A beer and thirty minutes later, we’re both more relaxed.

Harley is a single mom from Arizona who moved to San Francisco for school and unexpectedly fell pregnant. The dad split, so she dropped out of school and worked in bars to get by. When Pulse opened, she lied like hell on her résumé to get the manager position.

---