Chapter One

Jax

I swipe at my forehead; the heat really is ridiculous today and having to deal with this idiot is something I could do without. I wipe the sweat from my hand onto my jeans and then resume tightening the bolts back into place.

“You shouldn’t give a time if you’re not going to be ready for that time,” continues the chump. I take a deep breath, it takes everything I have not to bite, especially when I’m so hot and irritated.

“I didn’t know that I was gonna be a man down today Mr Williams, I only ran over by half hour. I’ll knock some off the final bill.”

“You’ll knock half off the damn bill,” he snaps, his tone becoming irate.

“That’s not possible I’m afraid. I’ve done the work and you’ll need to pay for that plus the parts.” I sigh, closing the bonnet and heading back into the garage. He follows me, continuing to rant about poor customer service. In all honesty I’m close to giving him half price just to shut him up. Instead I turn on him suddenly, halting him mid-step.

“Mr Williams, you’ll pay your bill today at the price I set, or I’ll be keeping your vehicle. You’re starting to piss me off and that isn’t going to end well for you.”

His face pales, he’s clearly just remembered who the fuck I am and why he should watch his mouth. He nods once, and reaches for his wallet, glancing briefly at the bill I’ve laid out on the counter. He places the cash in my waiting hand, and I pass him his keys with a tight smile. Fucking prick.

I watch him drive his BMW away, narrowly avoiding a collision with Ryker’s Harley as he pulls into the workshop. He shakes his head in annoyance before dismounting his bike and removing his helmet. “Who was that idiot?” 

“Someone who won’t be returning to us anytime soon. Apparently, the customer service here isn’t up to his standards.”

Ryker laughs, then places his helmet on the counter. “I spoke to Tatts. Loyal men were in the club last night. That’s twice in a month, are they starting something?”

I feel my muscles tense at the mention of The Loyal Brothers MC. They’ve been a pain in my arse for the last five years. Ever since we hit their drug source, as a consequence for dealing in our area.  

They’ve been quiet for the last six months or so, and I was hoping they were quietly accepting defeat, seems like they were just waiting for the right time to show back up again.  “Did they cause any problems?”

Ryker shakes his head, “Apparently not, they didn’t spend much either. They asked specifically for a certain dancer, had a private dance and then left.”

I tap my fingers on the counter, a bad habit when I’m thinking. “Which girl?” I ask. Ryker shrugs, “Well let’s go find out. Maybe she can shed light on why they are asking for her.” 

By the time we drive into the deserted carpark at our club, Fusion, the sun is setting and it brings a welcome relief from the hot sunshine. We head inside. The music is pumping, and various dancers are practising on the stage.  

The bar staff are restocking fridges, and as we approach, a few of them scatter, leaving Blair to deal with us. She looks up and smiles wide. “Well hello there boss, haven’t seen you for some time.”

I return her grin, leaning over the bar to check her out. “Tatts has this place running like clockwork, I don’t need to come in.”

“Tatts, get out here,” she shouts, before going back to stacking clean glasses. 

A minute later, Tatts appears, suited and booted and looking professional. You wouldn’t think he was a biker looking at him right now but that’s the impression we were going for in Fusion. Not that we’re ashamed to be part of The Dark Souls MC, and everyone in town knows we own this dance club, but wearing leather cuts and jeans puts the customers on edge, and we want them relaxed enough to spend money.

We shake hands in greeting, “Hey Pres. I assumed you’d be in after our visitors last night.”

“Just a few queries,” I say, following him into the office. “Did they ask for the dancer by name?” Tatts nods, “And did you ask her what they wanted?”

“Yeah course, she said they asked for a private dance. She took them in one of the back rooms and the guy was too hands on. She told him she wasn’t up for extras and he left.”

“Is she in?” I ask, and Tatts nods, heading back to the door. 

“Harlow, get in here,” he shouts.

We hear the clicking of heels and a girl enters in just lace underwear. Her long, light brown hair rests over one shoulder and her cheeks are flushed, like she’s been practising on stage. She gives me a sexy smile, her grey eyes glinting dangerously, daring me to flirt with her. I resist the urge, she is stunning with her long eye lashes and heart shaped lips but I’m wondering if she’s a spy planted by The Loyals.

“Harlow, this is Jax, President of our club,” introduces Tatts.

She places her hands on her hips and chews on her plump lower lip. “I know who he is, Tatts,” she replies in a husky tone.

“What did the Loyal’s want with you last night?” I ask.

She shrugs, not looking at all interested in my question. “There were two guys, didn’t have patches on but I noticed the tattoo on the back of their hands. They knew me by name, said a guy had told them I was the best. I took them out back but one of them was too hands on whilst the other watched. I didn’t like the vibe, so I pressed the button and Mac came in a turfed them out.”

“So, you don’t know them?” I ask, raising my eyebrow accusingly.

Harlow’s expression goes from bored to annoyed, “Look, I already passed your ridiculous background check. I don’t know those guys and I don’t want to. Do you think I’d have pressed the button if I knew them?”

“Enough Harlow,” Tatts snaps, “show some fucking respect.”