Page 2 of Soul
“You see something?” Chaos asks when my gaze moves around the room.
“Nah, just keeping my eyes open.” I take another sip.
“You need to get laid, brother. And Ineverhave to say that shit to you. What’s your deal this week?” His eyes narrow, and I hate that out of all the guys in the club, there’s no bullshitting Chaos.
He can see straight through me.
“All this shit withyou know whois getting on my fucking nerves.” I take another sip of my beer, careful not to mention Rick Zane’s name, even if we aren’t in one of his casinos.
Like us, he has eyes and ears all over this city. I don’t doubt he’s well aware there are Twisted Kings roaming the Strip tonight.
Rick Zane owns half of Vegas. His name is plastered on the tallest casino on the Strip like a beacon, reminding us we’ve yet to rid our city of the scumbag. On the outside, he’s an upstanding citizen, but his casinos are just one of the ways he makes his money.
While the Twisted Kings toe the moral line on occasion, we limit our illegal activities to weed and guns. We might do some shady shit, but we don’t trade in flesh like Zane. If anything, we’ve been trying to put an end to the sex trafficking that’s cropped up in our city since he showed up.
But he’s like a fucking serpent. Cut off one head, and another one grows. His organization is endless, and his reach knows no bounds. He has the city council in his back pocket, and the cops do his bidding. As if that wasn’t bad enough, when we took down the Iron Sinners, theMC who used to help do his dirty work, he put the Feds on our tail.
We can’t make a move lately without all eyes on the club.
I’m looking forward to the day I get my hands on Rick Zane. I’ve had years to plan his long, unpleasant reckoning, and I’m going to enjoy taking him apart piece by piece when I get my chance.
Cheering begins as waitresses flood the casino floor, carrying trays of champagne flutes.
“Is it already midnight?”
Chaos pulls out his phone and taps the screen. “Damn close. Eleven fifty.”
A pretty waitress with curly black hair stops in front of us, offering champagne. That shit does nothing but give me a headache, so I stick to my beer.
“Thanks, honey.” Chaos takes a glass, winking at her.
His eyes drop to her ass as she walks off.
“You hate that shit.” I chuckle when he sets the glass on the bar instead of drinking it.
“Just being polite.” He grins.
I shake my head, about to point out that he’s never polite, when a flash of pink in the crowd catches my attention. My beer bottle pauses at my lips as a group of rowdy assholes parts, and a girl in an itty-bitty pink dress comes into view.
Fuck.
Her dress might as well be painted on her skin with how it hugs every delicious inch of her curves. The hem is an inch away from revealing her ass if she bends over,and a deep V in the front perfectly frames her tits. But it’s her eyes I can’t escape.
So pale and sharp, they cut through the room. Darting around with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, like she’s never stepped foot in a casino until now.
Her brown hair hangs in thick waves halfway down her chest. The darkness of the strands highlights the brightness of her eyes even more.
She’s fucking beautiful, and totally out of place.
While her outfit and thick makeup are a mask that helps her blend in, her eyes give her away. She looks around. In awe and terror as she spots a couple getting handsy near the slot machines.
If she thinks this is bad, I wonder what she’d think of the clubhouse.
Patch bunnies walking around topless.
Brothers fucking in random corners.
Good girls who are easily shocked don’t usually interest me because they expect me to be something I’m not. But this girl, with her doe eyes and her thick eyelashes that flutter with every sweep of the room, has me wondering how else I could shock her.
