Page 22 of Rider Daddies
The main room is busy tonight. The woman is here, there, and everywhere like a seasoned bartender, pouring liquor with one hand, beer with the other.
Everything is shaping up nicely. From a business point of view, everything is going swimmingly. The cash register is oozing money, so much that I’m having to flatten the notes every time I open the drawer to keep everything in.
Of course, it’s all because of our little Italian delight.
Everybody wants to speak to her.
And I meaneverybody.Men are lining up at the bar waiting for their turn to make her smile. It’s all an act, the wide grins and singsong laughter…
At least, I fuckinghopeit’s all an act.
“I suppose we can’t be too pissed,” Ryder says through gritted teeth. The pair of us are standing by the door like a pair of sulking idiots. “At least I no longer need to grill Saint about the cigarettes.”
“This isn’t anything to do with the cigarettes,” I say. I can’t bear to look at Ryder right now, but I also can’t bear to look at the rest of the club members.
Club memberswho are supposed to be on our side.
Not against us.
“Look at them, all waiting for their turn,” I grit out. “She’s welcoming the attention too. Laughing at their unlaughable jokes. Brushing her hand against theirs longer than she needs to.” I stall when I see her cast both of us a glare. She’s handingover a drink to the sergeant-at-arms. Making a damn show of it too.
“She’s teasing us,” Ryder says.
“Yeah. State the obvious, why don’t you?”
“She wants us to cave.”
I won’t be doing that anytime soon, but Iwillsay—watching her entertain every single Venom Vultures member is making me hate my brothers a lot less, seeing as we’re now in the same position.
“She’s a conniving little devil,” I say, watching her closely. “I think she could use a reminder of who’s the boss around here.”
Ryder watches with me. “She could make us millionaires, you know.”
“Yeah, at our expense.”
Ryder turns to me. “You hate it even more than I do.”
“I employed her to pour drinks and take the cash, not to ogle every plain-faced bastard that places an order.”
“We knew this was going to happen.”
“Yeah, but she’s fucking entertaining them. Look.” I point a finger to show Ryder exactly what I mean.
Lacey is leaned over the bar, exposing way too much of her chest, making intense eye contact with another member as she takes his order.
It’s fucking unnecessary.
She twirls her hair too, reaching over to grab the man’s hand in an overly flirtatious way that has my skin scorching off the bone.
The men look at her like she’s already naked in front of them. Like they’ve laid eyes on the best meal of their life and can’t wait to tuck in. There might as well be an imaginary knife and fork laid out in front of them. They look at her like they’re starving.
“It’s not fucking fair. This wish was supposed to be granted for me,” Ryder says. “I ordered Miss International-Passport-Holder, not them.”
Lacey extends her gaze over to Saint in the DJ booth. He might as well be over here with us. I’m almost certain the same song has been repeating now for at least ten minutes…not like I’ve been paying any attention. He stands at the booth in a state of hypnosis, hands frozen over decks I don’t think he knows how to work anymore.
Then, Lacey looks over at Ryder and me again, issuing us the same, cunning look as she strokes her finger over an unknown knuckle laid across the bar.
The skin on my own knuckles are about to be hanging from the bone, after the punch I give to this bastard.
