of the Reckless Kings, or the Prospects, which meant there were probably club whores inside. Lovely.
It wasn’t that I had a problem with those women. They served a purpose, and I didn’t begrudge them a little fun. But I’d also heard about the ones who didn’t care if a brother was taken and tried to dig her claws in just the same. Anyone who so much as looked at Beast in a way I didn’t like, I’d be happy to show her the error of her ways. And if Beast had a problem with it, I’d see how he liked having blue balls. I’d never disrespect him in front of his club, but at home? That was another matter. When it was just us, I’d have no problem telling him exactly what I thought.
I pushed my way inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim interior. Despite the sun shining outside, very little light seemed to pour through the windows. I scanned the room and didn’t notice Beast. A few brothers were scattered around the room, more than one with a naked woman on his lap. I ignored them and went up to the bar. The Prospect eyed me before leaning closer.
“You’re not the sort we usually see in here,” he said.
No shit. “I’ll take a bourbon.”
“You got some ID? Because the Pres would have my balls if I served a minor alcohol.”
A minor? Seriously? “First, I’m a legal adult. Second, I didn’t ask you to think. Give me the damn drink.”
“You’re in for a rude awakening, doll. Women don’t give orders around here. You either turn around and leave, or I’d suggest you take a look around and get with the program. The only place you have here is on your knees.”
I felt a spark light up inside me and I used the stool for leverage as I went halfway over the bar, grabbed the asshole by his cut, and dragged him closer. My nose was nearly touching his and I hoped he could see the fury in my eyes.
“I’m not a fucking whore, and I damn sure won’t take any shit from you. You’re a motherfucking Prospect. Don’t act like you’re someone because around here, you’re no one. There are two options. You pour my fucking drink, or… I embarrass you in front of all the men you want to impress.”
I released him and leaned back.
“That was a stupid move,” he said, sneering at me. Before I had time to react, he’d leapt the bar and grabbed my arm. “The only value you have are your tits and your pussy. If you aren’t offering up a nice view at the very least, you need to leave.”
“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” I held back a growl as I narrowed my eyes at him. He shook me like I was a damn rag doll, then started hauling me to the back hall. It hit me that he was probably trying to take me to a room. His? Oh fuck no. “You were warned.”
I twisted in his grasp and punched him in the throat before kneeing him in the balls. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air, one hand on his throat and the other between his legs. I heard the scrape of chairs and heavy footsteps. Looking up from the shithead on the floor, I saw three Reckless Kings heading my way.
“Before any of you lay a hand on me, you might want to check in with your Pres,” I said. “He won’t be happy if you hurt me.”
“Fucking whore,” the Prospect said, still gasping at my feet.
I drew back my foot and kicked him in the ribs, giving him another reason to bitch and moan. One of the patched members folded his arms over his chest. I eyed his cut and saw the Sergeant-at-Arms patch just under his name. Forge. If anything, he seemed slightly amused I’d gotten the drop on the man at my feet.
“You need better Prospects,” I said. “This one is weak.”
“And what would you know about it?” one of the others asked. I eyed his cut too. Snake.
“I know my daddy would have hauled his ass out of here and beat the shit out of him for treating me the way he did,” I said, nudging the downed Prospect with the toe of my boot. “Assuming he let him live, he’d have been banned from the club.”
“Who’s your dad?” Forge asked.
“Torch.” I braced my feet shoulder-width apart and crossed my arms. “I’m a Dixie Reaper