Page 15 of Stroke of Shadows

It was official—his cock was broken. A beautiful woman was currently gyrating on his thigh, and he felt as aroused as a nun. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Want to take this to a private room?” she whispered against his ear, her perfume a mixture of sweat and sweet florals. “I offer all sorts of extras.”

“Buttercream’s the best,” Wyatt commented from beside them, his own dancer finished and currently counting her money. “Aren’t you, babe?”

“Nah, I’m enjoying myself right here,” Sythe said. “Don’t you worry, darling.”

Her fake smile tightened. “It’s been a pleasure.” Nodding to the other girl, they both stepped out of the booth, the roped off area raised to allow for a perfect view of the entire club. The main stage dominated the centre, with some seating around the edges and tables scattered around the floor. Further against the walls, there were larger sofas more comfortable for personal dances, each with privacy screens.

Strip clubs weren’t really his thing, but he’d never been to an invite-only strip club before. His phone had been removed at the door, placed in a lockbox and kept secured behind the reception. The alcohol was complimentary, with servers walking around offering champagne and even pills to clientele who were charged several hundred pounds per hour they stayed.

“This place is something else,” Sythe commented, reaching for his beer that was surrounded by various drugs. “How do I get an invite?”

Wyatt chuckled, stretching his arms out along the top of the bench. “Another member has to nominate you, it’s the only way in.”

Sythe’s brows raised. “Very exclusive.”

“It’s why it’s the best in the city.” Wyatt smirked, eyes scanning the small crowd on the main floor. “The girls are worth it. They’re hand-picked and regularly screened to make sure they’re clean, if you know what I mean.”

“So you use the girls here often?”

Wyatt took a slow drink of his own beer. “Sometimes, if I’m in the mood. Like I said, Buttercream’s the best. You should’ve taken her up on the offer.”

Sythe shook his head. “We both know I can’t afford to be here for a few seconds, never mind any of her extras.”

Wyatt snorted, but there was an intensity to his gaze. “Tell me, Sy, what’s your deal?”

Sythe took a sip of his drink. “My deal?”

“Yeah, like what do you do?” Wyatt sat pretty stiff for a guy that just had his cock publicly sucked.

“A little of this and that,” Sythe said, draining his drink. “I get by. Why?”

Wyatt sat forward, the earlier humour stripped clean. “You loyal to anyone?”

Sythe gave him a relaxed smile. “Does myself count?”

“You know what I mean.” Wyatt let out a sound of frustration. “You with the Irish? The Crows? You live in the Bricks, and the majority of that is Viper territory.”

“The Vipers don’t own shit anymore.” His brother Kace had taken care of that. “Their territory’s been split amongst the Lords, from what I’ve heard.”

Wyatt blinked, his pupils giving away his high. “What about those new guys, the Undead?”

“I don’t belong to anyone.” Sythe’s smiled strained. It seemed the Undead were finally making a name for themselves. “Okay, it’s your turn.”

Wyatt slouched back, lips pursed. “What do you wanna know?”

“You seem pretty solitary for a guy with money.” Sythe made a show of grabbing one of the blue pills and throwing it in his mouth.

“So?”

“I just expected you to have an entourage, is all.” Wyatt used to be photographed partying with a large group regularly, but over the years, they’d disappeared. The last had been the guy currently swimming with the fishes.

“I’ve found in my line of work, friends can fuck you over. Not many people can deal with what I do.”

“And what exactly do you do?”

Wyatt grinned, sitting forward. “Does it matter when I can afford this shit?” He reached for another of the pills, selecting a white one. He swallowed it instantly, while Sythe kept his beneath his tongue. “I like to keep my immediate circle small. Fewer… casualties that way.” He laughed, as if it were a joke. “I have some boys I party with, but they don’t mix with my business. They’re not like me. Or you.”

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