Filthy Vegas Nights (The Trifecta 3)

I’m about ready to hop out of the Rover to chase after her but realize she took my fucking jeans with her. Are you kidding me? I panic for a split second but spot my wallet and keys on the floor. She didn’t steal anything from me except my jeans, and the title for hottest sex I’ve ever had.

2

Damien

“Is the new bartender here yet?” I ask Clara with a little more attitude than necessary.

Clara shakes her head, not looking upset at my harsh tone. I know she thinks I’m being a dick because I’m nervous about the grand opening of the club, and I’m not going to correct her. Because I should be on edge with nerves and excitement from the fact our dreams are coming to fruition tonight, but the club opening has nothing to do with why I’m being a pain in the ass. No, the reason for my mood can be pinned on one thing, and that thing has short black hair, sensual green eyes, and my jeans.

“What’s the bartenders name again?” I ask Clara, attempting a pleasant tone. It’s not her fault I’m in a shitty mood. She shouldn’t have to deal with my frustration.

“Shane,” Clara answers, typing on her computer set up at the bar.

When the news circulated that the Trifecta’s taking over the club and Willie’s retiring, all of the staff were ecstatic they’d be keeping their jobs, all except one. A long time bartender, Gabe quit three days ago, not giving us much time to hire someone else, and tonight we needed to be fully staffed. Clara was able to find someone on short notice who came highly recommended, but wasn’t able to come in until today. I’m nervous hiring someone on recommendation alone, but with the grand opening set for today I’ll take what I can get.

I glance down at my phone. “He’s late.” I hate tardiness, especially from my employees. This club is the future for my brothers, their soon to be wives, and their future children. We worked hard to get where we are, and I’m not going to let some slacker bartender screw it up for us. “Don’t bother letting him in. I need this place to run smoothly, especially on opening night. One of us will get behind the bar if we get behind.”

“You three are going to be too busy talking to people and getting them comfortable with the three of you running this place to get behind the bar. Let him be late, and work tonight. I promise to find someone else tomorrow.”

Before I can respond, a sultry voice, a voice that seems to have been burned into my brain calls out, “I’m here.”

I turn around slowly, my eyes taking in the sight of the thief who stole my jeans. She’s even prettier today than she was last night.

How did she find me?

“I see you’re here to return something you’ve taken from me,” I say, walking over to her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, not looking the least bit sorry for stealing from me.

“This is my club.”

She smiles, brightly. “I’m your new bartender. Sorry I’m late.”

I laugh. I’ve had women make up crazy stories to get back in my pants, or just in my presence, but to pretend she’s my tardy new bartender is a new one.

She throws me a dirty look that rivals the one I just sent her, before sidestepping me and walking up to Clara. “Hi, I’m Shayne. You must be Clara. Thank you for hiring me on such short notice.”

“Shane’s a boy’s name,” I grit out.

She shrugs. “Talk to my mom,” she counters, still not paying attention to me.

Clara gives Shayne, and apparently not Shane, a tight smile before shaking her hand. “I’m sorry, but there’s been a mistake,” Clara says.

“You’re not our new bartender,” I respond, not sugar coating it like Clara’s trying to.

She whirls around as her green eyes sparkle with a fierceness ready for battle. Too bad Clara’s here, I wouldn’t mind arguing with a lot less clothes on. “And why not?”

“One, we don’t hire females. Women come here to see men not women.” My eyes pin hers. “And secondly...”

She cuts in, “Wow. You’re rude.”

“Well, you’re late,” I finish my sentence.

“By like two minutes. You need to loosen up.”

I square my shoulders, adjusting my button-down shirt. “I can loosen up just fine. If you remember.”

She stares at me, her eyes giving nothing away. “Vaguely.”

My face turns beet red and Clara jumps in. “Maybe we can have you work tonight because we’re down a bartender.”

Shayne glares at me before focusing her attention onto Clara. “I can do this job. Promise. I may not be a guy, but I’m a damn good bartender.”

I cross my arms over my broad chest, ready to kick her out of the club right now. I’m not sure where my frustration comes from. I think the majority of it is I feel used. This woman used me last night and then ran away with my jeans. No apology. Nothing.