Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC 10)

Uhh, what?

No, no, no. That would not be happening. She sent Kristy a panicked look.

Kristy frowned as she looped her arm through Mak’s, but it only lasted a second before she replaced it with an overconfident smile. “Catch ya later, Crank.” She dragged Makenna toward the bar, then stopped and spun. “Listen, Mak, whatever you do, do not end up alone with that man, do you hear me?”

“Um, yeah, I hear you.” The warning wasn’t necessary. She had no plans to wander off anywhere with Crank. Her hands shook, so she stuck them in her back pockets.

“I mean it, Mak. He’s a sadistic fucker who’ll eat you alive and spit out whatever’s left, and I promise you it won’t be much. You cannot handle him, and he senses it. It’ll make him want you more. I don’t care what you have to do, do not end up alone with him. Repeat it back to me because I’ll be dancing soon and won’t be able to keep an eye on you the whole night.”

“Kristy, I won’t end up alone with him. Promise. Trust me, I’m not looking for any kind of trouble. I’m here for one reason and one reason only.”

Five hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars.

With a nod, Kristy delivered her to the end of the bar. “Level!” she yelled above the booming music.

A man around Mak’s age with a three-inch blonde mohawk and no other hair turned their way. “Hey.” He lifted his chin in their direction.

“Got your help for the night,” Kristy said, tilting her head toward Mak.

“Fucking finally,” he called as he uncapped a bottle of beer. “Send her on back.”

“All right, girl. Good luck. Gotta get my ass up on one of the tables and start dancing. You good?”

Was she good? No, but, “Yeah, all good.”

Kristy kissed her cheek then flounced her way into the crowd, stopping every two seconds to chat with someone new.

“Hey, babe,” the man called Level said as he wandered her way. “Come on back.” He gave her a blatant up and down assessment, lingering on her breasts. The brazen staring made her skin crawl until he wrinkled his nose. Then her cheeks heated, and she wished to sink through the floor. Guess she didn’t quite pass muster.

“You party here before?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Not really my usual scene, to be honest.”

He snorted. “Figured that shit out. Hope you can hack it; gonna get busy as fuck in here in a few.”

“I’ll be fine.” Hopefully the words would convince him over the slight tremor in her voice.

With an unconvinced shrug, he turned away from her. Was she supposed to follow?

When he turned and whistled like she was a dog, she hurried to catch up.

He spent the next few minutes showing her the ropes while also managing to run the bar. She met their third counterpart for the evening, a short slender man with a shaved head named Pee Wee who sneered at her, and that was the extent of the acknowledgment. At least Level had come across somewhat personable even if he seemed completely unimpressed by her in every way.

“Hope you ain’t one of those bitches who freaks out every time a guy asks her to suck his dick,” he said as he pointed out where they stored the glasses. “Cuz it’s gonna fuckin’ happen, and I don’t wanna hear shit about it. Suck it the fuck up and move on.”

This was a mistake. A serious mistake. Her heart pounded. Maybe she should leave.

Kara needs shoes. Lee isn’t working.

“It’s n-no big deal,” she said because what else was she supposed to say? That the thought of being propositioned made her skin crawl and her stomach bubble? Yeah, that’d be a surefire way to watch her cash fly out the window.

She could do this. She was strong, resilient, driven. Catcalls and propositions were merely words. A wooden bar separated her from the rest of the men. She’d be safe. She’d be fine.

Please let that be true.

“Right. You set? Can’t hold your hand all night.” he said, as he rubbed the back of his neck. With a silver spike through his left nostril, a dark bruise under one eye, and a tattoo of a giant spider making its way up his neck, he didn’t make a comfortable picture to look at, so she stared out at the crowd.

“Yep, I got this.” Hopefully, she sounded confident instead of terrified.

“Okay, let me know if you need somethin’ but try not to bitch, too. I don’t have time for that shit.”

Right. She had about two seconds to continue feeling fear before someone signaled her to grab a beer and a shot of tequila. Within minutes she became so busy she barely had time to pull her hair up off her sweaty neck.

Two hours whizzed by in the blink of an eye. She kept her head down, ignored the lewd gesture and words, and served drinks like her life depended on it. By the time Level motioned for her to take a twenty-minute break, her feet ached, she stunk of booze, and she’d been asked no less than two dozen times if she’d like to suck some guy’s dick or find him when she was done so he could, “dick her into next Tuesday.”