Page 39 of Ignite

Her eyes widened, and she dropped her arms to place her hands on her hips. “Are you firing me?”

“Yes, I am.”

She laughed as if he’d told her the funniest joke ever. “You can’t do that. The men who come here come to seemedance. They won’t come if you fire me.”

Wolf’s expression turned nasty. “You think that, eh? Who in this fucking city hasn’t seen your tits already? Give it a week and some younger new dancers will fill those seats no problem.”

“Fuck you!”

“Been there. Done that. Not worth a repeat.”

She screeched and came at him with her fingernails curled into claws. Wolf caught her wrists and held her back. “You have two choices. Take the five minutes I’ll give you to get dressed, or don’t. Either way, you’re leaving.”

Candie’s face twisted into a raging mask of hatred. “Scrap won’t let you do this!”

“Scrap’s not the manager here. I am. Four minutes or you’re out on your bare ass.”

She jerked back, freeing herself. Her breasts heaved as she puffed in frustration. Wolf braced for another attack. Instead, she sneered and tossed her head back in imperial disgust. “You’re gonna regret this. My fans will demand my return.” She pointed a talon at his face. “I’ll be back on that stage in a week.”

“Three minutes.” He could see the frustration on Candie’s snarling face. This was a power play through and through. The woman clearly wanted to fight more, maybe throw something or have a screaming tantrum. Candie was seldom told no, and for years she’d gotten away with shit, mostly because Wolf hadn’t taken a big enough stand. He felt a tiny bit guilty about that, as he should have stopped this long ago, but it wasn’t like the woman hadn’t been warned time and time again.

Tears spilled over Candie’s false lashes, and she dashed them away, leaving a black smear under her eyes. “It’s that hippie girl you’re fucking. She’s got you thinking about commitments and houses and kids. She’s just a novelty. People like you and me? We’re the real deal.”

“Two minutes.”

“You bastard!” Candie’s face changed again. She lashed out, and Wolf didn’t block her this time. Her nails caught his cheek and left two shallow red lines just above his beard.

“Time’s up.” He seized her wrist and pulled her from the room. Scrap and Baghouse glanced up from their game to watch as Wolf dragged an enraged cursing Candie through the club, completely naked.

Camshaft walked in the front door, and his eyes nearly popped from his head at the sight. “What the fuck is going on?”

Wolf didn’t stop moving. “Grab Candie’s stuff from her locker, yeah? She doesn’t work here anymore.”

Unlike the dancer, Camshaft didn’t question him and hurried to the dressing room.

The street wasn’t full of people, but there was definitely an audience when Wolf dragged Candie to the concrete sidewalk. He dropped her arm and blocked her entrance back into the club.

“You’re hurting me!” she shrieked.

“I’m not touching you. I did not throw you down or hit you or push you.”

“You assaulted me!”

He pointed to the blood on his cheek. “Who assaulted whom?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

Camshaft appeared with the contents of Candie’s locker and wordlessly tried to hand everything to the spitting woman. She slapped it out of his hand. “Kiss my ass!”

“Suit yourself. I’m done.” Wolf turned and went back into the club. Camshaft followed and closed the door, muffling the still-cursing woman. Scrap and Baghouse were staring at the two younger men.

Wolf spoke coldly. “I fired Candie. Either of you have a problem with that?”

Scrap dropped his eyes to the board. “Bitch making trouble again?”

“Yeah.”

The older man picked up a bishop and placed it on another square. “Your move.”

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