Page 50 of Lucky's Trouble

“No problem. I gotta run, but I’ll get you that number, okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

“You ready?” Rigger steps into the security room, where I’ve been getting my mind right for the last half hour. And by getting my mind right, I mean I’ve been recalling every detail of what Neal did to Tinleigh over and over, letting the rage build until my fists are itching for some action.

“Hell yeah.” I stand.

“Let’s ride.”

Outside, Golden and Mustang are already on their bikes, waiting. In case shit goes sideways, their cuts are off. Getting pinched wearing them carries a higher sentence for being gang-related, and we’re not taking chances. We’ve all had various forced vacations at the pen and will probably go again at some point, but there’s no point in extending our stints for longer than they need to be just because of our colors.

“Tobi’s been sitting on the place all evening. Neal got there an hour ago, and from what he can tell, there’s a security guy at the entrance, one in the main space, and one by the private rooms,” Rigger says as we remove our cuts, tuck them into our saddle bags, and strap on our domes.

“You sent Tobi?” I pull my Glock out of the back of my pants and release the magazine to make sure it’s fully loaded. I don’t plan on killing anyone tonight, but I’m not against it either. I reinsert the magazine and tuck it away.

“The kid looks like he’d spend an afternoon at a strip club. Figured he wouldn’t raise suspicion.” Our newest prospect is in his early twenties and gangly, though he’s been putting hours in at the clubhouse gym, trying to bulk up.

“Yeah, he does,” I agree, straddling my bike. “You guys can secure the muscle, and I’ll hunt down Neal.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Golden says, and we fire up the bikes.

Rigger takes lead since he’s the VP, followed by me and Golden, with Mustang taking the rear. Excitement thrums through my system, thinking about how good it’ll feel to pound that asshole’s face in. I want to see him try to impress all his clients with his jaw wired shut.

We park at the adult bookstore next to the club so the security guard at the entrance doesn’t get tipped off before we’re ready.

“I’ll have Tobi come hang with the bikes,” Rigger says, producing his phone and typing out a message.

“Good thinkin’.” I move my gun to the front of my pants, and we cross the lot to the club.

As we approach, Tobi walks out. His black hair, normally kept in tight corkscrew curls on the top of his head, is a mess, and even through his golden-brown complexion, I can tell he’s flushed. It makes me chuckle. Looks like the girls in there worked him over pretty good.

He glances over at us through his periphery but keeps walking, like he has no clue who we are. It impresses me that he has his head on straight. I’m sure the kid will be patched in when his probation is over.

I eye the man standing outside with a black Security shirt on. He’s about five foot eleven and two-fifty, but his mass isn’t from muscle. If we can’t keep him quiet with a gun, we can outrun him, no problem.

“Welcome, gentleman. Just need to see some ID and go over a few rules.”

Golden lifts the front of his shirt, revealing his Beretta. “How about you and I go over a few rules instead?”

The man lifts his hands. “Don’t want no trouble.”

“Then there won’t be any. We’re just going to stand here and have a conversation while my associates take care of business inside, okay?”

“Sure, man.”

Golden nods to us, keeping his hand on his gun. “Have a good time, boys.”

From there, we move fast. Rigger spots the guard standing watch over the main floor right where Tobi said he’d be, and Mustang walks up the steps to the private rooms while I move past the bar and to a door with a No Entrance sign.

“Hey, you can’t—” The bartender quiets when I flash him what I’m packing, and Rigger walks the guard he’s secured over to the bar, keeping an eye on both of them. Not sure if there’s an alarm behind the bar, but Rigger’ll make sure it’s not used.

I walk into a short hallway, quickly assessing the two doors. The first is unmarked, and the other says Storage, which makes picking the right one easy. When I turn the doorknob half a rotation and don’t feel any resistance, I know it’s unlocked. Pulling my gun out, I push the door open and step inside the room.

Neal’s eyes widen when he looks up at the intrusion. He’s relaxed back in his executive chair, his pants unbuttoned and one of his girls on her knees in front of him. She turns her head, Neal’s cock still in her mouth, and screams.

I hold a finger up to my lips. “Shh. None of that. We don’t want to disturb the customers out there.”

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