Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 33474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Julie?” he asks, wanting me to clear up what just happened so he knows who needs to be thrown out. I would like to say “both” because I don’t like Burnout’s eyes on me all the time, but if the club threw people out for checking us out, then there wouldn’t be anyone in the place.
“Just the drunk.” I nod my head at the man Burnout still has by the collar. Besides, if I did ask for Burnout to be thrown out, I’m not sure what the fall out would be. I can tell he has some kind of pull around here, and I sure don’t want to find out either. I just want to keep my head down and make my tips.
Burnout gives the man one more hard look before leaning in and whispering something in the guy’s ear, but I can’t hear what he says over the music. Afterwards he pushes him towards Jimmy, the club's bouncer, and he is taken away.
“Thanks, Burnout. Can I get you anything special or just your regular?”
Taking the seat vacated by the other man, he just ignores my question, asking one of his own. “If you were mine, you wouldn’t be working in a place like this.”
“It seems to me you just told someone I was…property,” I throw back at him. Burnout has never crossed a line with me before. He’s nice compared to a lot of the men who come in here, but something is off with him. Something that makes my heart pick up a beat. It’s a feeling I don’t like—like I’m prey and he’s a predator. My father always told me to trust my gut, and Burnout makes my gut clench.
“You could be.” He smirks like he's offering me the world or some shit. No, I don't fall for handsome smiles anymore. And Burnout is handsome in a rough, pretty boy kind of way, with his dirty-brown floppy hair, and blue eyes. I usually think blue eyes look pretty, but Burnout’s don’t. His seem cold.
“Sorry, Burnout, but I don’t belong to anyone, and I’m not looking to change that.” I want him to fully understand that, so I make direct eye contact with him. I don’t have time or need for a man in my life, even less so when I can tell he’d bring nothing but trouble with him. I’d been dropping hints for the past two weeks that I wasn’t interested, but it's clear at this point I need to be more direct in my approach. Now that he's telling people I belong to him, I need to make it crystal for this guy.
He stares at me for a beat, my eyes locked on his, the smirk dropping from his lips, the real him showing through. I’m guessing he doesn't like being told “no”. Most men don’t, but they usually move on.
"You're new around here, so I've been going easy on you. But while you're working here, you're free pussy for the Five Aces. I've called dibs, and it's about time you paid up with that sweet cunt of yours."
My finger tightens around the bottle in my hand. What the fuck does that mean?
“Burnout…I…” I struggle to find words. My options seem limited because I’m not sure who would stand behind me, or how much pull Burnout has in here.
His eyes travel down my tight t-shirt—that one that has ‘Leather and Lace’ emblazoned across the chest—to my cut-off jean skirt, down to my cowboy boots. I’m dressed modestly compared to everyone else here. We bartenders just have to dress cute. We have to wear the bar shirt so people know we aren’t up for grabs, but most of the girls cut it up to show off as much skin as possible. Though I’m mostly covered, Burnout’s eyes make me feel naked.
“You put your hands on her, and you’ll be the one with a cunt.” Abe’s gruff voices fills my ears, and I drop the beer bottle from my hand, and it shatters when it hits the floor. I stand, stunned, just staring at him, and then embarrassment hits me. I start to feel ashamed, but then I remember why I’m working in a strip club on Saturday nights, trying to make ends meet.
“Could you imagine him with a cunt? He’d never get off because he wouldn't know what to do with it.” Mac’s joke pulls my eyes to her. She looks exactly the same, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail, a pair of tight jeans, and a body-hugging tee. I can’t help but smile at her, even though I seem to be standing in the middle of a storm. I didn't know she was here in Missouri, and it’s good to see her. Not that I thought she’d have reached out to me if I knew she was here—she was Abe’s friend, after all—but it stings a little after how close we got.
“You pieces of shit can't touch me in my own territory.” Burnout is smug in his statement, which makes me think he knows something I don’t. Looking at the size of Abe, I don’t think anyone would disagree with him if they didn’t think they were at least a little bit right.
Abe’s big meaty hand comes down on his shoulder, squeezing hard. “Looks like I’m touching you.”
“These Five Aces are dumber than a bag of dog shit. I swear, I always make sure I’ve got ten feet of clearance before I go poking Savage, and I’m packing heat.”
Taking a step back I hear the glass from the bottle I dropped crack under my boots.
“Don’t move,” Abe snaps at me, like he’s annoyed. I halt my movements, my eyes darting between the three of them. Abe does look savage, just like Mac said. The scars on half of his face are pulled tighter with his anger, but he still looks like the same Abraham I met all those years ago.
Mac just looks amused at the whole situation, like she’s having the time of her life.