Page 5 of Bullet
“These guys aren’t clients.” She bent over, fluffed her hair, then swung her head up. “They’re our new bosses. Travis is going to announce it to the girls tonight.”
I changed into a clean G-string, short skirt, lace bra, and button up dress shirt with the front tails tied at my waist.
“Do you want to wear my boots?”
I nodded and sat on the bench, switching out my heels for her boots. “And Bullet gives you permission to fuck other guys?”
She giggled. “Of course. I thought you’d have figured it out by now. I’m one of Bullet’s girls. So is Jinx.”
“Bullet, as in the guy with the motorcycle?” I lifted my gaze as I tightened the laces running up the back of the boot.
She nodded.
“I’m confused. I thought he was your boyfriend.”
Bristol adjusted her breasts to crest out of her bra. “More like my manager.”
“What?” I lowered my voice.
“He’s kind of like a pimp, but not. I’m not forced to do anything. He’s a good guy, you know, not a dick.” She smirked. “It’s a business to him, so he makes sure his employees are taken care of. He would never steal from his girls. He doesn’t have a bottom bitch lording over us.”
“You’re a sex-worker?”
She laughed. “Technically, I’m an escort. But, yes, I fuck for money. And the job comes with the serious perk of riding Bullet. You think a Harley is loud. God, that man is feral.”
“What?” I wasn’t dumb, but it was taking my brain a moment to catch up. “Are you talking about his motorcycle or his dick?”
“Not his motorcycle. He’s an ass about riding girls on the back. He will but not without bitching about it. I’m talking about his dick. I seriously can’t say no to him. I have zero willpower with him. Ask Jinx.” Bristol laughed. “There was one time she couldn’t dance without a limp for a week.”
“Jinx is fucking him, too?” I shouldn’t judge. I’d been fucking a married man. Not intentionally. I hadn’t realized I was the other woman until it was too late. “How did I not know you had a side hustle?”
Bristol smirked. “I don’t walk the streets. Bullet gets my clients, and his Heller brothers handle security.”
“Oh my god.” I followed her out of the dressing room and down the hall to the champagne room. “And his name is Bullet?” The question was more for me.
“I’m not ashamed of what I do. People hook up all the time. I get paid.” She lifted a perfectly arched brow. “I’ve been fucked over by the men in my life. I was going to end up on the streets, and then I met Bullet. He saved me.”
That worked for her. I’d have to save myself.
Bristol paused in the hall. “Listen, Stormy. Trav said the new owners are going to put serious money into the club. We’re going to be down for a few weeks. I know you need money. If fucking the men in this room will put a couple grand in your pocket, you should do it.”
“A couple grand?” A thousand dollars would not only cover the rent on my motel room for a few weeks, but I’d probably be able to save half. Once I had five thousand, I was out. But I needed enough to start over somewhere far from here.
“Ready?” Bristol smiled, opened the door, and sauntered into the champagne room. I followed her in and froze in a head-on collision with the brooding gaze of one of Emerson’s men. I should turn and run. This was a mistake. This was going to cost me everything.
My heart didn’t race. I didn’t think it beat at all because it was petrified with fear.
Three men sat on the half circle couch. Two I’d never seen before, but I’d never forget the man on the left with short hair.
Florian Marseglia. Emerson called him Mars. Emerson reeked of wealth. Mars was back alley dangerous. They were both hunters. Had Emerson found me? Or maybe this was just a nightmare. Maybe Mars wouldn’t recognize me.
Tattoos crawled up his neck. Those eyes focused on me. A menacing glare in the eyes of a man with a pretty face. Mars was muscle for the mob.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Bristol said as she slithered across the room. With a swivel to her hips, she stepped onto the table in front of them, putting her pussy eye level with their faces. “I’m Bristol, and this is my friend, Stormy.”
“Welcome, ladies.” The man on the left stood and grabbed the bottle of champagne. “Call me Rory. My associates Devon and Mars.”
The cork popped, and he filled five flutes.