The Fear That Divides Us (The Devil's Dust #3)(42)

“My shift ends in an hour. We’ll go then and I’m picking the place this time,” he rambles, walking off down the hall.

“Tonight?” I shriek, surprised by the urgency. He chuckles, walking away.

I look back down at the desk and see Nurse Helga staring at me, her dark eyes wide.

“What?” I ask, curious as to why she’s looking at me with hazy eyes like that.

“Do you know how many nurses have been after that fine ass?” she laughs, looking down the hall where Shane strides away. Helga runs her hand through her dark hair, bobbing her head up and down in appreciation of Shane’s backside.

I slap the counter and laugh. “Who needs to be seen next, Helga?” I question, changing the subject.

Bobby

Sitting in a leather chair in the middle of the room, I watch the growing crowd in the Wicked Birds strip club as I listen to Trove Lo singing “Habits”. I just happened to walk into the Devil’s Dust at just the right moment, or wrong, depending on how you look at it. Bull ordered me to come here and make sure things didn’t become hectic. Watching naked chicks hump a pole for a few hours, why not? I could find worse things to do with my time.

“Bobby baby, I’ve been waiting for you to call me back,” Diamond says seductively, walking toward me in some black f*ck-me heels along with a black laced corset. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders in perfect curls as her eyes trail up and down my body.

“Hey, there,” I reply, sitting up straighter in my chair. Shit, I have been ignoring her calls, but only because I’ve been busy with Jessica.

“Where have you been?” she questions, kneeling on the floor between my legs.

“Been busy, is all,” I respond, giving her hand that is sliding up my leg, a tender squeeze. The music suddenly fades and the DJ introduces the next dancers to appear on stage, Diamond being one of them.

“Well, I’m glad you are here now. I hope you enjoy the show, baby,” she coos, standing up and walking away. I admire her fine ass, making me groan in response. Diamond is a beautiful girl. I’m kind of curious why I haven’t tapped that yet. Actually, I know why I haven’t tapped that. She’s not Jessica, far from it. And Jessica is all I’ve had on my mind lately. I sigh. Somewhere along the way, I became * whipped.

Some commotion catches my attention over by one of the stages. I look over and find some fat guy leaning over the stage grabbing one of the girl’s legs. She looks down, startled, trying to pull her leg from his grasp.

“Shit,” I mutter, standing from my chair.

“Come on, baby, take those pesky bottoms off,” the guy encourages, pulling on her leg harder.

“Let go,” I order, giving him a tap on the shoulder. He barely turns his head in my direction, eyeing me from the corner of his eye.

“Fuck off, this doesn’t concern you, punk,” he grunts, curling his lips in anger, his hand still wrapped around her leg tightly.

“You are in my club, harassing one of my girls. It concerns me,” I growl, pissed. I broaden my shoulders, ready to pummel the * for his tone of disrespect.

The guy looks back at the scared blonde who is stumbling, trying to keep her balance.

“Maybe if you made your cunts worth the entry fee—” I collide my fist in his face, not letting him finish his sentence. Calling her a cunt throws me over the edge of anger and into rage. You want your front teeth missing? Call a woman a cunt in front of me and see what the f*ck happens.

He falls on his ass, taking the skinny blonde off the stage with him.

“Shit!” I yell, grabbing the half-naked woman before she nose-dives onto the floor.

I pull her up onto her feet and steady her.

“You all right, babe?” I ask concerned, looking her over for injuries.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she mutters out of breath, running her hands down her bare stomach.

“Go take a break,” I demand, tugging her away from the stage.

As she walks away, I see the fat guy trying to stand up, shaking his head back and forth from where I hit him. His mouth bloody, dripping onto his greasy shirt.

I stride forward and grab him by the collar, pulling him close.

“Get out of my club, now,” I hiss, my tone a promising threat.

“Fine, man,” he answers, trying to pull from my hold. I let go and watch him stumble out of the club, holding his mouth.

“Damn, brother, you only took over for a couple hours and you manage to beat up a customer?” Tom Cat asks, watching the guy leave. I look over my shoulder, not realizing Tom was even here.

“He was damn near pulling one of the girls off the stage by her leg,” I defend, pointing at the now empty stage.

“I’m going to go make sure she’s not hurt,” I continue, making my way back into the dressing room.

I may have lost my cool, not handling things in the most professional way. But one thing my father taught me is to treat women with respect. I love women, and to see one hurt from a f*cking bastard getting his rocks off by treating them like shit, I can’t handle it. I’ve witnessed my dad punch a guy’s teeth out for slapping an underage girl’s ass at a gas station before. The memory still makes me smirk. My dad was a badass when he wanted to be.

I push open the red door covered in a gold design, and walk right into the ladies’ dressing room. There are a bunch of vanities on both sides of the room. Small tables with huge back mirrors attached are outlined in light bulbs, along with chatty women sitting at them. I walk past a bunch of them, their tits hanging out, and some spraying perfume on them. At the back of the room, I spot the girl who was being harassed and go to her.