Page 14 of O'Mega's Revenge
“Over twenty.” My voice was even.
“All club girls?”
What Trot was asking was, “were they all bike bunnies who hung around the Destroyers for the sex or were any of them hired?” The question made me cringe.
“Well?” Missile prodded.
“Two club girls. They normally have five or seven hangers on. I’m guessing only two were down for a mob scene.”
Trot straighten to full height. “And you did nothing about the others?”
My back went straight, too. “They were getting paid.”
“It’s illegal, Tits.”
I glanced at Missile. “Duh.” Not that it needed confirmation. The Destroyers did a lot of illegal things in their clubhouse. I only reported on the worst of it. Those times they crossed the line into harming others without reason. In my five years with Wolf, that happened exactly twice. Any other scuffle was unquestionably provoked. Missile and Trot would be total hypocrites if they got upset every time there was a fistfight.
Trot had that “thinking” look on her face. Her eyes met mine.
“Were you scared?”
Waking up scared me. Going to sleep alone scared me. The only time I wasn’t scared was when I was in Wolf’s arms. That was no lie. Life taught me early that there are people whose sole mission was hurting people. But that wasn’t what she was asking.
“I wasn’t first on the field.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Missile scowled.
“She means, the Destroyers had men in place.”
“Sure, I mean, there were plenty there,” Missile rambled on about the situation. The number of club rockers she saw, and the way we were outnumbered.
Meanwhile, Trot studied me. She held up a hand to quiet Missile. “Well?”
“Two on the door, another five in various positions around the room. There were men positioned on the escort’s bodyguards, and if I’m not mistaken, seven were wearing body armor under their cuts.”
Understanding dawned on her face as she heard my report. “They were waiting for trouble.”
I nodded slowly.
“From the madam.”
Her sharp intake of breath meant I’d shocked her.
“A woman was running that shit?”
“Equal opportunity,” I reminded her.
Trot opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself before saying anything.
“What?” I prompted.
She blew out a long exhale and hesitated. “Did you recognize her?”
It was my turn to take a moment to collect myself. “No.”
“Do you mean that bitch that got snippy with us by the door?” Missile asked.
“Yes.”
