Ruthless Salvation

12

“No, though it sounds like I am,” Conner said in a jabbing tone. “Tor is with me. Wanted him to hear.” “Hey, man,” I called to Conner.

“That works. No need to repeat myself.”

Keir brought the talk back to the subject. “They trust this guy Michael?”

“Yeah, it’s a long story, but he’s got ties to the family. According to Boris, Damyon runs half of Moscow.”

Keir’s visible agitation mirrored my own. “What the hell is he doing here, then?” We knew the Russian was bad news but never expected him to have quite so much power.

“Not sure,” Conner continued. “But having Moscow owe Boris a favor was too good an opportunity to pass up. No chance of them colluding, though. These guys don’t trust one another even a little.”

“Guess that’s good to hear,” Keir said, tension still tightening his voice.

“Thanks for checking on that.”

“No problem. Michael says he’ll let us know if he hears anything else.”

“Pass along our appreciation.” In our world, a phrase like that was as good as gold. Michael had done us a solid, and we’d return the favor, should he ask. I hoped the Genoveses weren’t leading us astray.

“Will do.”

The call clicked dead.

Keir slid his phone in his pocket, a hint of a frown tugging at his lips. “I suppose if Boris isn’t worried, we shouldn’t be either, but I’d much rather find out that asshole is on his way back to Russia where he belongs.”

“My sentiments exactly. Until that’s the case, I say we stay on high alert.”

“Agreed.”

We wrapped up our business at the rink, then went our separate ways. Preparations for fight night kept me preoccupied most of the day, and since it was Sunday, I didn’t have to go by Moxy.

The next day, I got up early enough for one last gym session before resting for Wednesday’s fight. Early as in noon. Overseeing the club kept my schedule opposite most folks. I preferred it that way. It gave me an excuse to be antisocial.

After my workout, I strengthened my resolve to ignore Stormy Lawson. She was scheduled to work, and I wanted to show up mentally prepared. I had to stop thinking about her and following her like a goddamn puppy. It didn’t matter what customers said to her or what idiotic danger she put herself in. It wasn’t my responsibility. She wasn’t my responsibility.

I absolutely, without exception, could not give in to the temptation to engage with her because I had no self-control where she was concerned, and that simply wasn’t an option. Maintaining control in all aspects of my life was paramount. Without discipline and predictability, chaos ensued. Neither she nor anyone else outside of my family was worth that sort of risk.

I WAS REMARKABLY successful at avoiding Stormy the first half of the night. No eye contact. No greetings. No interaction whatsoever.

I started to believe I had day one in the bag when a swell of cheers snagged my attention, and I looked at the main stage. Micky had started her set, but instead of dancing, she pointed into the crowd, motioning for someone to join her.

“This is your song, baby. Come show me what you’ve got,” she called over the music.

What the f**k was she doing? She knew as well as the rest of us that it caused chaos when clientele ended up on the stage. My irritation ignited into fury when I saw Storm waltz up the steps into the limelight.

Motherfucking no.

The beat dropped to a pulsing grind, and both women began to move in unison. Every muscle in my body instantly coiled and was ready to lash out. So if you f*****g want me, Don’t f*****g leave me.

Micky raised her arms, and Storm drew slowly down into a squat as though worshipping the dancer’s body. The wide stance of her legs and her tiny shorts gave way too good a view of her ass. Something I could have enjoyed had thirty other jerkoffs not been storing the image for their own f*****g spank banks.

Fuck this, and f**k my resolution. I could only take so much.

Surging through the crowd, I forced my way to the front of the stage. “Get the f**k down from there,” I roared over the music.

The women paused to look at me while every man in the vicinity booed.

My scathing stare bore into innocent brown eyes. “Down. Now.” Confident my message had been received, I made my way over to the stairs.

Stormy shrugged to the crowd, blowing them kisses, and skittered off the stage. Micky picked up her routine flawlessly. Her graceful, erotic movements had the crowd subdued in no time, leaving me free to return to work.

See, I could interact without losing my head completely. It was possible.

Or it would have been if things had ended there. Unfortunately, Storm had other ideas.

The carefree smile she’d worn seconds ago disappeared as she charged up to me. “What in the hell, Torin? What was that all about?”

Shit. I hadn’t exactly thought this through. Tonight wasn’t the first time a server ended up on stage, and I’d never had a problem with it before. Customers were never allowed because that led to chaos, but the crowd usually loved when one of the bar girls took a spin on the pole. Anything that made the customers happy was generally a good thing. So what was my excuse?

“Don’t need men thinking you’re on the menu.” That was the best she was getting. It wasn’t my job to explain myself to her or anyone else.

“I’d say I’m on the menu if I wanna be,” she shot back, hands locked on her hips.

That Southern sass might as well have been a red flag in this bull’s face. I leaned in close, bringing my face inches from hers, relishing the way her eyes grew wide at the possessive gleam in mine.

“The only man who gets a taste of you inside my club is me. So unless you’re lookin’ to ride my c**k, this discussion’s over.” I pulled back, my gaze detouring to her parted lips for the briefest second before I walked away.

Fucking Christ.

One night. I’d tried to control myself for one goddamn night, and I hadn’t just failed. I’d done a one-eighty all the way to crazy town instead.

I spent the next two hours in my office, waiting for closing time. I had to clear my head, and I didn’t feel like dealing with Jolly when he called me out on my behavior.

Once I knew he’d left and the last customers would be filing out, I slunk back downstairs and sat by the front door. I kept my stare glued to my phone to ensure no one tried to talk to me. For everyone’s sake.