Free Long Ride The Slayers MC #3) by Tara Oakes Page B

somethin’ like that out and it’s starting to piss me off. I’m running a business here and I want my customers to enjoy themselves. Happy customers spend more money. The more money they spend, the more I fuckin’ make, but, I can tell just by looking at him that he’s a cheap son of a bitch.
    “Hey, darlin’,” I call the new bartender over, but can’t remember her name. Angel hired her and has told me the name a few times already, but I just can’t recall it. “You see that guy over there?” I ask and point to the loudmouth mouther fucker making a ruckus.
    I’m about to boot his ass right outta here and I want to make sure his bill is paid first.
    “He runnin’ a tab?” I want to know.
    The girl shakes her head. “No. Came in here already drunk and has only ordered two beers so far. Paid cash and no tip.”
    That’s what I thought. Douchebags like this one buy a cheap bottle of booze down at the local liquor store and guzzle it in the parking lot before even coming in. Then, they buy the cheapest drinks we have to earn them a seat to sit back and enjoy the free show without even at least stuffin’ some bills in the dancers’ panties.
    I’ve seen it a million times, and, if I had to guess, this prick is married and doesn’t want his wife to notice the missing money, so he doesn’t spend it.
    Well, I ain’t runnin’ a charity here.
    Candy’s my best dancer and her time on that stage is valuable. To her and to the club. The longer this ass hole takes up prime real estate sittin’ in that seat while we’re packed to standing room only, the more he’s costing me.
    “Thanks, darlin’. You fitting in okay?” I ask her, remembering how Angel had to adjust when she started working here.
    She smiles and nods. “I’m good. Angel trained me real well.”
    That’s good. This place can get rowdy sometimes and I need a bartender that can hold her own. Judging by the tattoos on her wrists, behind her ear and peeking out from the neckline of her shirt, I’d say she knows how to handle herself around some rough guys.
    “Well, you let me know if anyone bothers you. We got a strict no bullshit policy here, and that prick over there is about to find out.” I leave her to tend to the part of my job as owner of this club that I enjoy most.
    Kicking some ass.
    I set my sights on the poor bastard and he doesn’t even know what’s comin’ his way. It’s been a while since I’ve had reason enough to throw a punch, and my knuckles are practically itching in anticipation.
    There’s been enough stress going around between all this shit with the Cartel that I’ve been needing to get some of it out. This seems to be the the perfect opportunity for me to do just that.
    The music is pumping loudly and the crowd erupts into a roar of applause as Candy finally takes her top off and manages to do some wicked crazy kind of split to make her boobs bounce around.
    She’s a bit of a pain in the ass, Candy, but she’s a money maker for sure. That’s the only reason I put up with her crap half the time, thinking she’s a diva around here. Ever since Angel came into the picture, I haven’t fucked Candy once, making sure she knows It’s no longer an employee benefit she’s entitled to.
    I have to say, now that I’m not sticking my dick in her, she’s become a bit of a bitch. Maybe she always was and I just overlooked it because she’d distract me by blowing me. Doesn’t matter though, she’s still my best dancer and I’m not about to let this asshole customer hoot and holler at her if he’s not willing to pay her for her talents.
    I ball my one fist and press it into the other, cracking my knuckles to get them ready. Next, I stretch my neck up and to the side until that cracks as well, loosening up the joint so I’m less tense while whipping his—
    “Hey, D!” Esè  jumps in front of me when I’m no more than two steps away from the unsuspecting douchebag’s table.
    Now, when a guy like me is all riled