Page 32 of Anchor

“Holy fuck, are you our private dancer? Because girl, you are mighty fucking fine….” a guy with the patch saying Tool asks excitedly as his eyes go to my breasts, revealing the reason for his road name; the guy’s a tool.

I clear my throat at the growl Steal gives out. “Uh no, I don’t dance,” I say but keep my eyes locked on Steal’s and continue, “normally I work behind the bar, but we’re short-staffed on the floor…. Does, uh, Cassie know you’re here, Steal?”

“Wait, how in the fuck do you know the Prez of the Huntsmen MC?” another guy asks, but I don’t look away from my husband’s best friend, who I know is going to out my secret.

“She’s family,” Steal states coldly, and even though my heart warms, I wince, but he ignores it and continues, “Cass does know I’m here and she also knows I’m not looking at the women. The Rebels, Devils, and Untamed Hell Fire’s men are here with me.” He leans forward and demands, “Please fucking tell me the brothers who come here are not talking about you, the woman with an anchor tattoo, when they get back to the club excited, begging me to hire you at our strip club?”

Oh, damn….

When I don’t answer him, he leans over the table, and I see his eyes go to my hip to the anchor that Travis tatted the day we got married, and he groans, sitting back in his seat before getting his phone out of his cut, and my eyes widen.

“Colt, don’t!” I command, the men with him sucking in a breath at my use of his legal name, but he shakes his head and puts his phone to his ear, keeping his eyes on me, and I glare at him. “I swear to God, Colt, I keyed your bike once, I’ll do it again….”

“Fucking hell,” a man blurts in shock but again I ignore him.

I only did it because Cass called before she left four years ago and explained what the idiot did. He’s lucky that is all I did and that she gave him another chance.

“Brother,” Steal says, ignoring me, “your dad's with you and Micha, right?”

Oh, for the love of God….

“Colt, no,” I hiss, knowing Travis is going to storm this place. His eyes soften, most likely seeing the fear filling me, but he continues, “Have him stay with him and come to Jimmy’s Girls….”

Steal pulls the phone away from his ear, making me frown in confusion before he puts the phone back to his ear and snaps, “You don’t have to worry about your wife being pissed with you being in a strip club Travis; she’s fucking working here!”

My mouth drops in surprise that he just blurted that out, but I soon yelp when someone slaps my ass, and Steal stands abruptly, hanging up the phone in the process, the brothers with him also standing, looking behind me with anger.

I sigh, knowing that if I turn, it’ll be the guy who leered at me. Heck, I’d bet my left toe….

Steal rounds the table and grabs the man who just slapped my ass, and yep, it’s the idiot with major bald patching going on.

I groan when I see that he’s pissed himself, and he opens his mouth, most likely to beg to be released, but before words can come out, Jimmy is here instantly with security.

He booms, “No one slaps my fucking staff!”

Security grabs the guy from a reluctant Steal and hauls him out of the club as Jimmy raises a bushy black eyebrow at me and says, “Safe to say your secret’s blown,” as he nods to Steal.

I huff out a laugh and admit, “I know, but I’m still not giving up my job.” Jimmy nods, and I say, “Next time a customer slaps my ass though, Jimmy, I’m going back behind the bar and the men can collect their own drinks tonight.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I know,” he says before turning to leave but soon groans when I state, “By the way, my husband's on his way.”

Lifting his hand in defeat, he heads back to his hiding place in the darkened club to watch everything. I look back at Steal to see his anger still there as he takes in my outfit—shorts that can be classed as girl boxer briefs and a bra.

“Guess I should be happy he knows about Anchor,” he says while a very hot guy with deep blue eyes and black hair with the name Axel on his cut, the Untamed Hell Fire’s MC under it, gasps, “Anchor’s fucking married?”

I snort, look back at Steal, and say, "Yep, I can’t say the same about all the brothers and clubwhores knowing about me, though, hey?”

“Heaven…” Steal tries, but I shake my head and walk away.

I have a job to do.

“Cheers, gorgeous,” the bald, overweight man says as I hand him a whiskey while Princess–yes, that’s the name Sandra, the top dancer, chose after dying her hair bright pink–crouches down and spreads her legs, everything in view—and wet, I might add.

She smirks at me, wagging her brows, and I roll my eyes but I soon frown when her eyes widen, and I feel an arm wrap around my waist. I sigh, my body knowing exactly who it is.

Travis….

“Dude, y-you can’t touch t-the staff,” the bald man slurs, and I give him a small smile.

---