Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC 9)

Whichever came first, I would be taken care of. By me. No one else.

But for the time being, I continued to pull into Fate in my Range Rover, walked through the doors in Jimmy Choos, and shook my well-toned ass for money.

Despite being a small town, Garnett’s local strip club was not seedy. The lighting was low, soft. Not to hide a crumbling and stained interior, but to go with the décor. Velvet sofas and armchairs in shades of black and gray. Lamps on every table. A bar with a marble countertop that gleamed. Doors leading toward private rooms which were even more expensively appointed—and constantly monitored to make sure that the girls were never in danger and never doing anything illegal.

Fate operated like a high-end club in L.A. or New York, not a small town in New Mexico. But this particular locale was in a unique location in the state, only forty-five minutes away from a luxury celebrity resort in the desert. And a lot of the celebrities who went there were sexual deviants with a lot of money and a lot of kinks. Not only was our club the closest, it was also the best.

And then there was the fact that the town was home to the New Mexico chapter of the Sons of Templar MC. Before I arrived here, I’d never heard of them. After my first night working, I knew exactly who they were. Muscled, dangerous alphas in leather.

Trouble.

But they were always respectful at the club, tipped like Rockefellers and never got drunk and violent. Surprising, considering what I expected from bikers.

I expected beer bellies, sloppy drunks, exploring hands and blatant misogyny. I’d been nervous around them, even though the other girls spoke so highly of them. The ones who had patronized the club had hit on me, but once I refused their advances, that was it. No anger, no violence, nothing I had come to expect from a man who was refused something he felt entitled to.

It was nice, refreshing.

It took effort to say no to these guys. Not a beer belly to be seen. But I had because I knew they were trouble.

They still tipped well, making conversation when I was around the club bar either before or after my shift. So I wasn’t surprised to see the leather out of the corner of my eye while I was chatting to Kallum who was behind the bar. It was early, so I was hanging around the bar in a leather mini skirt and a leopard print halter top that was more of a bra than a top. It was quiet, which was how Kallum and I were able to have this conversation.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asked.

I frowned at him. “Mind? You’ll be lucky to get him back when you come home.”

He put his elbows on the bar and leaned forward, close enough so I could smell his aftershave over the fragrance of the club which was soft, sweet, enticing. Kallum’s aftershave was spicy, leathery and pretty enticing too. If you were into that kind of thing. “What about Sirius? He won’t feel territorial or protective?”

I laughed. “Sirius? Remember when you came to my house, and I texted you to let yourself in?”

Kallum grinned, turning his sculpted, masculine face boyish. “He was so scared he ran away and hid behind you,” he recalled, his blue eyes twinkling.

I laughed at the memory. I’d gotten the black lab from a shelter three years ago, thinking he would be good protection. Until the second I got home and he hid underneath the bed for an hour after he was frightened by a bird that had found its way into the house. I loved the little coward.

Kallum’s dog, Loki, was a small Papillion, an absolutely ridiculous pet for a muscled strip club owner to have, but he adored him, and so did everyone here.

Kallum was going to take care of his mother in Arizona for a couple of days after she had surgery, needing someone to watch Loki. Kallum was a good son. His mother had moved him and his two sisters from Puerto Rico after his father died, working three jobs to support them, to give them the kind of life she hadn’t had. But despite working three jobs living in L.A., she hadn’t been able to give her children the opportunities that came with wealth and whiteness. That had made Kallum angry. He’d wanted to provide for his mother and his sisters, be the man of the house. So he fell into a life on the wrong side of the law. He made a lot of money, but his mother had refused to take a cent and kicked him out of the house. He’d continued on that destructive path for several years after that.

He went to prison for armed robbery the day before his twenty-first birthday. His mother forgave him and visited him every day she could. She loved him unconditionally. And because he loved her unconditionally, he made a promise to never break the law again. He also made a promise to himself to figure out a way to allow his mother to retire. A legitimate way.