Page 4 of Razor's Property

My feet stop in place as I turn the corner, all thoughts dropping flat to the ground as my heart leaps in my chest. It’s him. The one she’s talking to is the one who ripped my heart out. It’s been eight years, and yet, the pain crashes in as though it was yesterday. He looks different. Taller. Shoulders twice as wide. But no amount of tattoos or hair covering his angular jaw would have me mistaking the one who destroyed me.

His head lifts as if sensing my stare and our eyes collide. Like a head-on collision, my stomach twists on impact. The airfreezes in my lungs and I fight the urge to run. He grips Kitty’s shoulders and shoves past her, stalking toward me. Heavy, pounding strides as loud as the pulse in my ear.Pound. Pound. Pound.The dominance is rolling off him, screaming for me to flee, but where would I go?

“What the hell are you doing here, Kens?”

His angered tone bristles over me and I finally find my strength. “I should ask you the same question.” I cock my chin. “What? Are the sweetbutts not doing it for you anymore and you needed to come here for some fresh meat?”

Or are the Savage Knights expanding their illegal dealings to my place of work? Not sure what the club is into. Maybe sex trafficking or drug dealing. Probably both. I never got any details from Sean. The boy who’d told me every secret since he was eight years old told me he’d taken an oath to the brotherhood and could no longer tell me anything about what he was doing when he was at the clubhouse. Which should’ve been my first clue that I lost him. When I went there to surprise him for his birthday, I found exactly why he was being so secretive.

“Came here for a drink.” His growly voice washes over me, like a deep rumble on the cool breeze sending a chill down my nerves. That’s changed too. His voice is no longer smooth and sweet, but as lethal as his looks.

I roll my eyes, shaking my head on a brittle laugh. “Right. Because they don’t serve alcohol at any other bar.” He still hasn’t changed. Still the same womanizing asshole he was eight years ago. “Where are the others?” I look past him for the row of big shiny, fire-breathing motorcycles, but I only see one. That’s surprising. They usually travel in a pack. Like a militia of leather-clad criminals ready to wage war everywhere they go.

“I’ve been riding solo for the last year.”

Another shocking revelation. I thought once you were patched in you were in the MC for life. Like selling your soulto the devil. Cause that’s exactly what he did. He used to be so sweet. Always such a good guy. Kind and considerate. Law-abiding. But then he joined the MC and it was like they ripped the good right out of him, replacing his personality with an evil, cheating liar.

“What does King think of that?” I ask, feeling the anger as I say the man’s name. He’s the one who dragged my Sean into his tribe and brainwashed him. Just like a cult, he took him away from me.

“Why don’t you answer my question first? What the fuck are you doing here selling your body like a whore?”

It’s like a hard slap in the face. I’m not a whore. Dancing on stage for money is paying the bills. So what if I have to shake my tits. If I were on a nude beach, it would be no different. It might not be the most dignified way of earning money, but it doesn’t make me a prostitute as he’s suggesting. The girls who shake their naked asses around the clubhouse—“the sweetbutts” as they call them—are the real whores.

“I use the assets God gave me to pave my way. It doesn’t make me a whore, Sean. I don’t fuck any of the men.”

Though, I know some of the other girls do. They’ll take the men in the back for a lap dance and after they’re done, they’ll offer them a happy ending for a hefty tip. I would never do that no matter how desperate for cash I may be. As of right now, I won’t even give a lap dance. Another thing Barker isn’t too pleased with, but he’s giving me time to warm up to the place before he forces the issue. If I want to keep my job, I’m going to have to start. I’m just hoping I’ll earn enough cash before that day comes, so I can quit before I have to start rubbing up against creepy men.

“Your mom raised you better than this, Kensington. Does she even know you work here? Did you tell her how you’re puttin’ that degree to good use? Bet she’d be real fucking proud.”

The knife cuts so deep I nearly lose my balance. I know my mom raised me better. She would roll over in her grave if she knew what I was doing, but I no longer have a choice. I’m buried under hospital bills and debt, and working three jobs wasn’t cutting it. After two weeks here, I can already breathe a bit. The fear of losing my mother’s house is no longer strangling me to the point of panic. And that’s all that matters. My pride can tuck itself in the corner for a few months because I no longer have any other options.

“I could say the same about you.” I lift my chin, almost faltering when I look into his eyes. They look just like the boy I once knew, only darker and cut with bitterness, no longer filled with any semblance of love. After all these years, he didn’t even give me a hug.

“I don’t think your grandparents would be too happy if they knew you were hanging out at a titty bar, Sean. But I guess you don’t care what they think, do you? Seeing as though you cut ties with them to go join your biker gang.” I know for a fact him becoming a one-percenter isn’t what his grandparents hoped for. They wanted him to go off to college and make something of himself, not turn into a thug. “You make your money selling drugs and guns and who knows what else, so I wouldn’t be judging others on how they make their money if I were you.”

He’s the last one who should ever look down his nose on anyone.

“Shoot your bullets all you want, Kens. I’ve owned my shit. Made peace with it. And the brotherhood is my family now. And you’re fucking wrong. We don’t sell drugs. Never touched the stuff. In fact, we work to get that shit off the street.” His adamance has me believing him, which is shocking. Even so, it doesn’t negate all the other illegal shit they do. “Working in this hell hole, being groped by strange men is beneath you. You’re going to end up getting into trouble if you keep it up. And I’m notgonna stand by and let that happen. You’re done, babe. You can give your notice tomorrow when you come to collect your last paycheck, or I’ll be making sure your mom knows exactly how you’re earning your living.”

Wow. He’s got some nerve thinking he can show up after eight years and tell me what to do. Especially when he’s been living a life on the streets, corrupted by criminals. He’s not exactly one to talk. Besides, he lost any right or influence in my life the day he ripped my heart out, so he can go fuck himself. His threat is useless anyway. My mother is no longer alive to learn my horrid truth. There’s no one left in my life to suffer the disappointment other than myself.

“Pretty rich showing up, thinking you have a say in my life and then threatening to blackmail me, Sean. You can go tell whoever the fuck you want. Shout it to the fucking world because it makes no difference to me.” He clearly never got the message that my mom passed away. Shows how much he’s thought about us over the last eight years. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my ride is waiting.”

I shove past him and march over to a gawking Kitty. She looks angry. Probably mad that he degraded us and our chosen profession. He can think what he wants, but I no longer harbor any shame for what I do. I grew numb to people’s opinions years ago. My job is a means to an end. And as long as I can still look myself in the mirror, that’s all that matters.

“I mean it, Kens.” His gruff voice hits my back. “You better give your notice.”

Or what? I’m not giving anything except for the bird before I open Kitty’s passenger side door and slide in, ignoring his arrogant demand.

Kitty starts up her little red sports car, which was bought and paid for by one of her regulars, and pulls out.

“How do you know Razor?” she asks, sounding annoyed by the fact. It almost sounds like there’s a hint of jealousy in her voice. If she knew what he did to me, she wouldn’t be jealous.

“We grew up together. His grandparents lived right next door.” They were the ones who raised him after his parents died. I’ll never forget the day the cute boy moved in next door, looking so sad. For months I watched him sit in his backyard, staring at the ground, his shoulders shaking as the sobs hit. When I finally got the courage to go over and talk to him, wanting so desperately to comfort him, he told me that his folks had been hit by a drunk driver and now he had to live with his grandparents. That was the day I decided I’d be his best friend. Help him forget and do whatever I could to heal his broken heart.

But in the end… he broke mine into a million tiny little pieces.

“So, what’s his deal?”

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