Biker Claim: My Shadow.

Shadow POV The six of us roared down the street on our bikes to our destination: a popular club; the long line of people waiting to get in proved it. It was ten at night, and nightlife was already in full swing when we killed our engines; the music thrummed across the street where we had parked. We were headed to the club to meet a man with some news for us. Our club was made up of mercenaries, guns for hire, bodyguards, lost-family finders, and rescue specialists; if the job paid well, we took it. We are picky, though; we don't take just any job. We often have jealous, vindictive girls wanting their ex killed; we don't take those kinds of jobs. We even get the occasional police jobs, where they use us for protection detail when they have a witness they want kept alive till a trial of a major criminal. Most won't storm into a bike club to harm a witness, mind you; most wouldn't think our club would have one hidden in there in the first place. The club was rocking, people moving to the beat in front of a live band on the stage. We moved to the back of the room, backs to the wall; from here, we could clearly see the main door. Time to wait for our contact to arrive. Two topless servers drew the male patrons. Pole dancers on the other side of the stage, wearing little for the imagination, moved to the music, drunks standing close to the stage, reaching out at them, but they were at a safe distance from grubby drunks' hands. Two men did the heavy work, bringing in crates of drinks from the back; a man's face appeared at the kitchen window and rang a bell each time a meal was ready. A woman in jeans and a T-shirt collected the meals and delivered them to tables, nimbly moving out of reach of men's hands reaching for her bottom. The place was full. The girl I had seen delivering food to a table stopped at ours. She looked tired and bored. "My name is Pip. I serve the food. What can I get you, gentlemen?" The food server, we now know as Pip, greeted us and asked what we wanted as she placed menus on our table and lifted her small tablet to take our orders; her eyes glanced over us but didn't settle on anyone in particular. "Six burgers with the lot, and a jug of light beer, whatever's on tap," Jugs answered for us all; it was our usual request when we were somewhere new. This was the first visit to this club. Pip leaned over, collected the menus, and left, never once flirting with us as most women do; it was all work. She was polite and down to earth, and my d**k twitched with interest; that was rare for me. What are the chances of that? A girl showing zero interest, and my d**k wants her. Makes no sense; other girls flirt, rub up against me, even grab my package, and nothing, yet this girl has my interest, and she did nothing but take our order. The club got louder as more people squeezed into the already crowded room; for safety reasons, it was too crowded. The place allowed smoking, and you could barely see the stage as plumes of smoke rose from tables nearby. The club smelt of cigarettes, stale beer, s*x, and now and then, a girl's strong perfume. I am glad I checked the seats before sitting down, as two tables away, a couple was going at it, not caring who might be watching. I tracked Pip all night; she never flirted or lingered at any table. She smiled, laughed at jokes, and was polite, the perfect waitress. Her tips wouldn't be as high as those of people wearing almost nothing or pole dancing, but she was good considering how well she moved through the crowded club. She never spilled a drop and expertly dodged anyone who got in her way, as if she could predict their moves. My eyes tracked Pip all night; she was tall for a woman, close to six feet, with a good rack on top, curvy, not fat, and the perfect amount for her size. She could easily see over the other ladies' heads and most men in this room. My d**k stayed semi-hard and refused to go down. I wanted that woman, but she didn't look interested in a one-night stand or in giving any patron more than what was needed to take an order and move on. Pip was the only one serving food and collecting dirty dishes; the other ladies just pushed drinks, tried for big tips, sweet-talked men, and flaunted their goods. "It's getting late; where's Damage? He should have been here by now?" Jugs complained, for the tenth time, and I had to agree; he should have arrived by now. It was past midnight; I had seen the person I pegged as the manager speak to Pip, and her face dropped. I guess she'd just been told her shift would be longer. Poor woman; she works harder than the rest of the girls for her wages. A scuffle broke out between two ladies; to my surprise, Pip moved to the girls, grabbed them both by the scruff of the neck, and held them apart. I don't know what she said, but the girls shook hands and went back to the tables. This girl has definitely got my interest. It was nearing two o'clock, and Pip came to our table. "Last drinks." She didn't push us to order; she said what needed to be said, and when we didn't respond, Pip turned and started walking away. "Pip, can we have another jug?" Pip gave us a thumbs up as she moved through the crowd and returned without beer. "Time to pay the tab." Pip handed me the tab since I was closest, and I paid it, then handed her a hundred from my wallet. She popped it into her jeans pocket with a thank you. "Hey, Pip. What're you doing after work?" Spider asked before I could ask. "Going home, and crashing, alone." Pip turned her back on us and kept working. The place started to clear out; the band was done, the pole dancers were gone, and the topless girls had left, leaving mainly Pip to clear the room and tidy up. To me, it all seemed unfair; she worked so hard, and I bet she took home less than the other girls each week. "Damage must have a real good reason for not showing up," Jugs complained, but then if Damage had shown up, he could have found some excuse to complain. Pip put up chairs on the tables. After wiping them down, only the barman and Pip were left, and we were the last to leave the club. "Now what?" Riddler asked, and yes, he was really into Batman. We were outside the club, leaning on our bikes. I wasn't ready to leave yet; I was waiting for Pip to come out. I wanted one more look at her. I will enjoy having her face and body on my mind when my hand works my d**k. "You want her, don't you?" Jacks, asked when I didn't budge or answer any questions. "Yep, been hard all night," I admitted, as the barman came out and locked the front door. What the hell, where's Pip? Surely she doesn't live here? Four men emerged from the alley across the street and took off in the other direction. It was too dark to identify them; something about their coming out of the alley didn't sit right with me. "I am going to phone Damage and find out where he is," Jugs stated, annoyed at a wasted night. The phone rang out, so he dialled again. "Hello?" A woman answered. "Where's Damage?" Jugs demanded. "If you mean a man, in a biker kutte? Around six feet, full beard, and a scar on his left cheek? Then you better come down the alley and check out the dumpster." The phone went dead. As we headed toward the alley across the street, where the four men had emerged, I saw a shadow disappear over the back fence. Jugs phoned again and followed the ringing to the dumpster. The phone sat on the lid; Jugs took it and lifted the lid. Inside was the man we had been waiting for. Damage: he had a gunshot wound to his chest. "Geez, man, what a waste, and we were so close. Never heard a thing." "Who do you think that chick was? Maybe she witnessed the shooting, and if the shooters find out, she will be in danger." "It was Pip. I recognised the voice. We need to find her; she's going to need our protection," I replied as I pulled out my phone. "Call the Prez; he's going to need to know about this," I ordered Jugs. I called the police to inform them of the body in the dumpster.