Page 23 of Jacob

Thick makeup covered her face, which even in the dim lighting, did little to hide the pockmarks. Heavy liner outlined her eyes and the false lashes she’d glued to her lids were crooked. Inch long dark roots stood out against the rest of her bleached hair.

His smile dropped. He’d imagined she’d been pretty once. As the bartender scratched the back of her neck, which she tried to hide by flicking her hair, he did his best not to pity her. Had she gotten into the shit before she got hooked up with the club? Or did getting involved with the Roughneck Riders get her hooked on whatever shit turned her into that?

“What do you need, baby?” she purred. “Patches get everything. Booze, smoke, rock…” She leaned over the bar, pushing what little bit of cleavage she had together with her arms. “Me.” She waggled her brows.

Bile rose into his throat.Peddling shit in their own goddamn clubhouse?He could almost understand using it in their house, but fucking distributing it? Did they want heat all over the goddamn place? How the hell were they not crawling with fucking feds?

All happy goodwill ambassadorship feelings he had from facilitating tattoo talk left him immediately. Their clubs were just too fundamentally different. This place was a goddamn mess.

“Nah.” He forced a smile, trying to appear appreciative as he checked his phone. “I gotta ride in a few.”

She pouted and swiveled her hips at his rejection.

With his gaze focused on his phone, pretending to read a text, purposely avoiding looking at the bartender hoping she’d lose interest, he didn’t see the other man approach. The crack across her ass and her subsequent squeak jarred him.

Jacob’s head snapped up, his hand on the butt of his gun, tucked in the holster behind his back out of reflex. Tut’s meaty hands rested on the bartender’s hips as he pulled her back against his doughy body. “Daddy wants candy,” he said as he nipped at her neck.

She laughed. “Well, let me go and I can get you some.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Jacob blurted.

The two of them cut their gazes to him. She froze, slightly bent over, her ass pressed against the biker’s groin as she reached for something under the bar. Wide-eyed, she resembled a deer caught in the headlight of a Mack truck.

Tut, on the other hand, glared at him, grinding his teeth. “What’s it to you, Fury?”

“Don’t you think it’s a little sloppy?”

“Don’t think it’s your call.” He patted the woman’s ass, signaling her to continue.

Slow as can be, without taking her eyes off Jacob, she moved. The tink of metal hitting something under the bar caught his attention. He suspected she’d opened a small lockbox.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “How much shit you got sitting here waiting to be found?” Jacob challenged.

Tut snorted and swiped at his pointed, yet crooked nose with the back of his hand. “Enough, but not too much.”

Translation: Too much. Jesus fucking Christ. They were begging to be hauled in. What the fuck did Monty get them all involved in? Peaceful talks were gonna get them caught in the crossfire. Jacob would be damned if he was going to jail because of these assholes.

The girl straightened, handing a small baggie to the biker behind her. With one hand, Tut took the white powder. The other slid over her hip, rested over her crotch before he jammed it hard between her thighs. The force caused her to pitch forward, shooting her hands to the bar edge to prevent cracking her face on it.

The two bikers were locked in a death stare, neither willing to divert their gaze. In his peripheral, Jacob watched as the woman squirmed a bit before Tut jerked her jeans down, exposing the generous globes of her ass.

“She’s got a fine fucking ass doesn’t she?” he asked.

Jacob nodded, running his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah.” No use in insulting her.

“Fucked it a few times,” the other biker commented nonchalantly as he reached behind him. “Not my favorite thing to do, though. Right, Jen?”

“Nah, Daddy,” she cooed.

“She’s got these cute little ass dimples,” Tut said as he poked his fingers into the small of her back. His other arm came back and he twisted off the cap of a bottle of tequila. Pouring an unnecessary amount along her back down the crack of her ass, Tut laughed.

He crouched, his tongue flicked along her skin, circling the dimples, slurping the little bit of tequila that had pooled there before he got lower, and yeah, right there in front of Jacob, Tut ran his tongue the full length of the crack of the bartender’s ass, making her moan.

Jacob rolled his eyes at the over-the-top display. What the hell was he trying to prove? That he could do what he wanted with a club whore?Good job.

After opening the little baggie, Tut tapped some white powder on one, and then the other ass cheek. He bent and snorted one, and then the other pile. He came up still sniffling.

“Whoooooo-eeee!” he shouted, and then clapped his hand on her ass again.

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