Page 3 of Tripp

“Two minutes,” Carla announced as she walked up behind me, looking at me through the mirror in front of my station. “Then you’re up, hon.” Even after a month of working at Indulge, nerves still managed to rattle me before each performance, something I feared would never go away. Then again, the moment I became comfortable with this job should be the exact moment I quit.

Carla disappeared to attend to the other girls, mending some of the outfits for the night’s performances. The club’s manager used to be a stripper, but all that ended the day she met her husband, Brian. She’d stopped taking off her clothes for money but stayed in the business to help the younger girls starting out, offering advice and keeping them out of trouble.

In the short time since I’d known Carla, she’d helped me tremendously, teaching me how to deescalate any situation, learning to read the men’s body language and how to protect myself if they ever got a bit rough. I’d never had anyone look out for me before, and Carla would forever have my gratitude for seeing me as a person and not just an object. A commodity to own and possess.

Adjusting my auburn wig, I finished my makeup with another coat of mascara before standing and assessing the costume I’d chosen for my routine—a naughty schoolgirl outfit. Cliché but it worked, arousing the customers to ensure tips would be plentiful. With one final glance in the mirror I headed for the door, my heart thrumming fast.

“Good luck, sweetheart,” Carla shouted behind me. I turned halfway around, enough to flash her an appreciative smile before focusing on what came next.

The whole stripping scene was new to me, but it provided me with an income, something I was never allowed to have before. Refusing to even think about my past, I focused on the remaining beats of the current song, blew out a long breath, and strode toward the back of the stage. I was up next.

I lost myself to the rhythm of my routine, allowing the spotlight to block the prying eyes watching my every move. The club was almost at capacity, which was both good and bad. I would surely go home with enough money to cover my room and put some food in the mini fridge that was supplied at the motel, but because of the number of patrons, I would surely be putting Carla’s advice to good use. Most of the men were well on their way to Drunkville, their eyes surely not the only thing trying to get their fill of me that evening.

With each piece of clothing I removed my mind hid, drifting off to the only time I’d felt safe, loved—my childhood. Memories of vacations with my parents filtered in. Playing Army with my older brother because where we lived there were no other children. Escaping to my room after I’d been punished for misbehaving, only to have my mom come and comfort me. She’d explain why I’d been in trouble but always made sure to tell me she loved me to the moon and back, kissing my forehead before giving me her stern look telling me that I was still grounded. My dad calling me his little princess as he twirled me around in his arms, blowing raspberries on my cheeks until I laughed so hard I could barely breathe.

As the song increased in tempo, unwanted scenes barreled forth. Tears pricked behind my eyes but I refused to allow them to fall. My whole world imploded the night two police officers knocked on our door.

An accident.

Icy roads.

One driver, two passengers.

No survivors.

Thrusting myself back into the present, I focused on the numerous strangers watching me while I danced to the music, counting the seconds until I could disappear backstage once more.

Tripp

“I need you to take my place at Jagger’s fight tonight,” Stone said, straddling the barstool next to me. “Addy’s goin’ to her dad’s for dinner.” He tapped the bar and signaled for Trigger to grab him a beer. The resident bartender scowled and disappeared in the back, completely ignoring Stone’s request altogether. Those two didn’t have the best history, not since Stone went against club rule and got involved with Trigger’s niece, Adelaide. Now the mother of his kid.

Hell, he and I didn’t have the best relationship either. He forever gave me shit about hittin’ on his woman, but he’d got it all wrong. Adelaide cared for me after I’d been dropped off at the gates of the club, shot four fuckin’ times, bleeding out and left for dead. It was Adelaide who had nursed me back to health, and because of the bond we shared, our friendship had blossomed. Which was quite odd for me, seeing as how she was the only true female friend I had. I innocently flirted with her, sure, but who wouldn’t—the woman was gorgeous. But she was more like a sister to me, and as time passed Stone had come around to the fact that I would never fuck someone I viewed as family.

Don’t get me wrong, Stone and I battled. Quite a few times. Shit, he even punched me in the face for puttin’ my hands on her belly when she was pregnant with Riley. But I let it slide because, as a man, I understood his possessiveness. Didn’t stop me from fuckin’ with him, though.

Every once in a while I could still rile him enough to throw me daggers.

“If she’s goin’ to her dad’s, then why do I have to take your place at the fight?” I lifted my beer and drained the remaining liquid.

“’Cause Riley is sick and I need to stay home with her. Addy hasn’t seen her dad in quite a while and doesn’t want to cancel.” Leaning over the bar, he grabbed a mug and poured himself a drink before sitting back down. “That good enough of an excuse for you?”

“What’s your problem?” Certainly used to Stone’s aggravated tone, I knew when something was amiss.

“Nothin’, man. Just . . . I don’t know. Shit, I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Tipping his head back, he swallowed half his drink in two gulps. “Besides, I sure as hell ain’t talking about Addy with you.” Gone was his usual tone of contempt, replaced with a slight wave of familiarity, as if he didn’t completely hate me.

Slapping his back, I gave him something to contemplate. “Well, if you ever wanna talk. . . .” I left it at that, not about to get all sentimental with Stone’s ornery ass. He knew where to find me if he needed to get somethin’ off his chest. Although I imagined he’d seek out Marek before anyone else, seeing how close the two of them were.

The club’s VP opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut when his phone rang. Pulling it from the inside of his cut, he glanced at the screen before answering. “Hey,” he said before vacating his stool and walking toward the room he used when at the clubhouse. I had no doubt his wife was on the other end of that call.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Nothin’ much goin’ on at the club besides making sure everyone took their turns visiting Psych.

I accompanied Ryder to Jagger’s fight, standing guard outside the dismal office inside the ratty old warehouse until the prize money was secure. Ever since Jagger had killed a guy in the ring, the younger brother of a Reaper, he’d become the hot ticket of the underground fighting world. The prize money quadrupled and because Jagger was still undefeated, the pot grew with each bout.

“All good?” I asked, moving to the side as soon as the office door opened.

“Yup,” Jagger answered, his black duffel bag swung over his shoulder as he walked past me. He instantly sought out his woman, having no patience for anyone else. Kena was huddled in the corner with her sister, Braylen, and of course Ryder was close by. The guy wouldn’t admit it but he had it bad for her. He tried to play it off as nothing more than sex, but I noticed the way he watched Braylen when he thought no one was paying attention.

Kena’s hands were going a million miles a minute and after Jagger responded, she grabbed his hands and smiled. When Kena was an infant, she’d contracted a virus, which had damaged the nerves in her larynx, prohibiting her from ever uttering a single word. Jagger had learned sign language in order to communicate with her, but there were times when he messed up, like right then.

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