“There it is again!” said Bethany. “Someone’s smitten.”

  Honey hated to admit it, but she was—at least a little. The kiss that they’d shared lingered in her mind and all she could think about was having Grit’s big, tough hands all over her. Just thinking about the way he smelled, the way he tasted, made her heart skip a beat.

  The rest of the night dragged. All Honey could think about was getting to the hotel and seeing Grit again. She knew that she was supposed to be meeting with the other guys, but she held out hope that she might see him at least in passing.

  She didn’t have any such luck. The only members of the Vandals waiting for her in the hotel room were Razor and Pitt, just like she’d expected. Honey couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

  “Okay,” said Pitt. “Let me get this straight: you heard a couple of guys loading up a car with something that might or might not’ve been drugs?”

  “Yeah,” said Honey. “And my boss, Charlie, he was really weird about the whole thing when I asked him. He got real cagey.”

  “Sounds like you’re onto something,” said Razor as he cracked open a beer. “But we’re gonna need more concrete shit than that. Keep looking around. You guys got any places in that club that’re off limits?”

  “Yeah,’” said Honey. “There’s a basement that we’re not allowed to go into.”

  “There you go,” said Pitt.

  “You want me to break into the off-limits area?” asked Honey. “Might as well just tell my boss that I’m spying on him.”

  “Nah, nah,” said Pitt. “Don’t actually do it. Just go near the door while your boss is looking, gauge his reaction. Play dumb when he says something and make a note if he gets extra paranoid about you going down there.”

  “Got it,” said Honey, still feeling a little nervous about the whole thing.

  At Fantasies later in the week, Honey finally worked up the nerve to give the plan a shot. Towards the back of the main room, there were two doors, one that led to the hallway where the private rooms were, and the other leading to the basement. And both were always guarded by a pair of hulking bouncers. Thinking about it, Honey realized that she’d never seen anyone come or go out that door. Whatever happened there happened when the club was closed. Honey decided to give the suggestion a try. Early in the shift, before the bouncers showed up for the evening, Honey waited until Charlie was nearby and gave the handle to the basement door a pull. Charlie noticed right away and shot over to her within seconds, a worried look on his face.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked. “Why the hell are you trying to go down there?”

  “Oh,” said Honey, taken a little aback by his intense reaction. “I just, um, was looking for the sewing machine; the outfit I want to wear tonight had a little rip.”

  “No sewing machine down there,” said Charlie, leading Honey away from the door. “You know the basement’s off limits. Authorized personnel—you know the deal.”

  “What’s even down there, anyway?” asked Honey. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone even go down there before.”

  “Just supplies and money,” said Charlie, the answer blurting out in a way that struck Honey as forced. “Same thing I told you on your first shift, when I also told you to not go anywhere near it. You’re talent—you stay here on the main floor. Now get back to getting ready.”

  With that, he hurried her off backstage. Honey was now fully suspicious. Charlie had freaked out just as much as she had expected he might, maybe even a little more so.

  That’ll make for good info, she thought. Nothing concrete yet, but I think I’m in the right direction.

  The shift went by as normal, and when she was done for the night, Honey decided to unwind with a drink at the bar before heading home. Charlie made her a vodka cranberry and she sat at the bar, sipping her drink, the guarded door in the corner of her eye.

  “Hey, sweet thing,” came a gruff voice from nearby, “like the way you moved tonight.”

  Honey was a little startled and turned quickly in her seat in the direction of the voice. A few chairs over sat a beefy, bald-headed man with a lecherous look on his mouth, his beady eyes glued onto Honey’s chest.

  “Thanks,” said Honey, feeling instantly uncomfortable.

  Taking her word as an invitation, the man heaved himself up from his seat and plopped down in the chair next to Honey’s. A shiver ran up her spine as soon as he moved next to her.

  “Couldn’t help but wonder what else you could do with that body of yours,” he said.

  Shit, thought Honey. Another fucking drunk asshole about one more drink away from getting grabby.

  “I’m just having a drink after work,” said Honey.

  “And it’s getting a little low,” said the man. “Let me get you another. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to pay for her own drinks.”

  He waved to Charlie, who approached and poured them a pair of fresh drinks. As he set the glasses in front of Honey and the man, he gave her a knowing look, one that seemed to say, “You just say the word.”

  The man took a long sip of his drink, his eyes moving up and down Honey’s body once again.

  “So,” he said. “Alone at the bar after work. Good thing I showed up to make your night a little more interesting.”

  “Not really looking for an interesting night,” said Honey.

  “Well,” said the man. “You’re about to have one.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and took out a stack of hundreds.

  “I think this should get me about two hours of whatever I want.”

  Honey felt furious and frightened all at the same time. Guys like this were far too common—men who thought that girls like Honey were nothing more than common whores. And they never took it well when she had to correct them.

  “Not interested,” said Honey. “Now, I’d like to enjoy my drink in peace, if you don’t mind.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed in anger.

  “Listen, you little slut. I see what you’re doing on that stage, shaking your tits. You think you’re too good for a man like me?”

  “Just l—”

  Before she could finish, however, the man’s hand shot out and grabbed onto Honey’s wrist.

  “I’m getting you out of here, one way or another.”

  “Actually, the only one getting out of here is you, pal.”

  Honey turned to her left to see Charlie standing just beside them.

  “You’ve got exactly two fucking seconds to get your hand off of her before, I break that wrist of yours, asshole.”

  “What the fuck’s it to you, buddy?” asked the man. “Just checking out the merchandise.”

  “There’s your one second,” said Charlie.

  With a lightning-quick motion, Charlie grabbed the man’s arm and shoved it behind his back before slamming his face into the bar. The man let out a shriek at the impact.

  “Now,” said Charlie. “You get the message about leaving the girls alone?”

  “Yeah, yeah!” he shouted. “Fuck! Just let me go!”

  Honey’s heart raced as she watched Charlie.

  “Get this asshole out of here,” said Charlie to two of the nearby bouncers.

  The bouncers complied, each grabbing one of the man’s arms and dragged him to the front door.

  “Make sure he got the fuckin’ message loud and clear,” said Charlie.

  Honey breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the man disappeared out of sight.

  “Jesus. Thanks, Charlie,” said Honey, feeling her slow down just a bit.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Charlie. “All part of the job. You okay?”

  “I think so,” said Honey. “Fucking asshole had his hands all over me.”

  “Sorry I even let it get that far,” he said. “Part of me wanted to toss his ass out the second he sat down next to you.”

  “All in a day’s work,” said Honey, trying to put a little lightness into the situation.

  “Just … let me know if you need anything,” said Charlie. “You know you’re my girls—gotta look out for you all.”

  “Thanks, Charlie,” said Honey with a smile.

  With that, Charlie returned to the other side of the bar. Honey watched him work. Charlie, despite being a little rough around the edges at times, always did his best to make sure all of the girls at Fantasies were taken care of. Lack of father figures wasn’t uncommon for the types of girls who worked there, and Charlie ended up being one of the first stable male figures to many of them.

  But Honey was beginning to wonder what sorts of secrets her boss was hiding. Was it possible that he was really running some kind of drug operation in this place? It all seemed too much for Honey to take in. And if he was, then he simply wouldn’t be the man that Honey had known. After all, if what the Vandals said was true, it meant that he’d been knowingly putting bad product out on the streets. Blood was on his hands.

  Honey finished up her drink and headed home. She wondered just what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

  Chapter Six

  Grit

  Tearing down the Vegas Strip on his bike, Grit couldn’t believe that Honey was still on his mind. It’d been weeks since the Vandals had enlisted her help, and though she’d been meeting up with Razor and Putt, she was still as fresh in his thoughts as she’d been the night of that first meeting the private room at Fantasies.

  Stay fuckin’ focused, Grit, he thought, the neon of the city passing on his sides in a multi-colored blur. More important shit to worry about than some chick. Even a chick who looks like that.

  But he knew it was easier said than done. He’d scolded himself in the same way just about every day, whenever Honey danced her way into his thoughts, distracting him from everything else.

  After turned off the Strip and heading west, he pulled into the parking lot of Connor’s, one of the dive bars in town where he and the rest of the Vandals liked to drink. Stepping into the place, he spotted Stone, his VP, at the bar.

  “There’s the man,” said Stone, getting up and slapping Grit on the shoulder as he arrived. “Another beer for the boss.”

  The bartender nodded and poured Grit a tall glass of golden beer. Grit snatched it off the bar and drained about half the glass in a single swig.

  “And a shot of whiskey, too,” said Grit.

  “Damn,” said Stone. “Someone’s not fucking around.”

  “Just got a lot on my mind,” said Grit, sliding into the seat next to Stone.

  “No kidding,” said Stone. “You been keeping tabs on this shit with Fantasies?”

  “You bet your ass I have,” said Grit. “Still nothing solid, but our contact’s been painting a pretty clear picture with the little bit that she’s been noticing.”

  “Yeah,” said Stone. “Locked-off basement, secret deliveries—it’s looking like some kind shady shit’s been going down. And you hear the news about Rhino?”

  “No, what?” asked Grit.

  Rhino was a member of the Elders, one of the MCs in town that the Vandals worked with from time to time.

  “Dead.”

  Grit raised his eyebrows.

  “You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” he said. “What happened?”

  “Drugs. Another fuckin’ OD or poisoning or something. He wasn’t even a hardcore user; just bought a little something to the party last weekend and it ended up killing the poor bastard. Two of the other Elders who got into the shit got off easy—they’re just in the hospital.”

  “This is getting’ bad,” said Grit. “We gotta get this shit sorted out pronto.”

  “That girl better come through for us soon,” said Stone, raising his glass to his lips. “This shit’s just gonna keep killing.”

  Grit knew Stone was right. He was sure that Honey was doing her best in a tough situation, but the slow trickle of information that she’d been bringing them just wasn’t enough to make a move. Fantasies was owned by some powerful people, and if they pulled anything and ended up being wrong, Grit knew that there’d be hell to pay.

  Before he could say another word, Grit’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out and saw that it was a text from Honey.

  “Huh,” said Grit.

  “What’s up?”

  “Speakin’ of the fuckin’ devil,” he said. “Just got a text from our contact.”

  “Yeah? What’s she got for us?”

  “Not sure, just says to meet her at the usual hotel room.”

  “Good,” said Stone. “Hopefully if she’s asking to meet with you personally that means she’s got something good for us.”

  Grit nodded in agreement. He hated waiting around like this—he preferred action, and sitting around hoping things happened just wasn’t his style. Tossing back his shot and draining the rest of his beer, Grit got up from his seat.

  “No rest for the weary,” said Stone. “See you later, boss. And keep me posted—you’re not the only one eager to crack some skulls.”

  Grit gave him a knowing nod and headed out. Back on his bike, he thought about the meeting ahead. Against his better instincts, he couldn’t help but feel a little excited. There was a strange tingling in his stomach that reminded him of being a kid spotting a girl he had a crush on during school.

  Goddamn, he thought. What the hell’s wrong with me? This shit’s business, nothing more. I’m gonna meet this girl, get the info, and send her on her way. The sooner we get this drug situation sorted out, the sooner I get her back to her normal life.

  Grit pulled up to the hotel and headed inside. Once at the designated room, he gave the door a rap.

  “Come in,” spoke the familiar voice of Honey from inside.

  Grit opened the door and stepped inside. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

  It was Honey, all right. But she was dressed to kill. Sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, the window behind her looking out onto the city, she wore nothing but a thin, red satin robe that showed off just about all the skin that Grit could want to see. Her legs were crossed seductively, and a naughty little smile played on her sensual lips.

  Fucking Christ, thought Grit.

  “Yo,” he said, stepping into the room and taking a seat on the bed. “Let’s get down to business.”

  “Sure thing,” said Honey. “Something to drink first?”

  “Fine,” said Grit. “What you got?”

  “I was feeling a little … festive today,” said Honey, getting out of her seat and walking towards the mini-fridge with slow steps, her round ass passing right in front of Grit’s eyes.

  She reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine and two chilled glasses.

  “Bubbly, huh?” asked Grit. “I’m hoping this means that there’s something to celebrate.”

  “Don’t need something to celebrate to have a little fun.”

  Honey gripped the corkscrew and pulled it open, the pop sounding through the room. She poured two glasses and handed one to Grit. He took it from her and raised the glass to his lips.

  “Not yet,” said Honey. “We have to find something to celebrate first.”

  Grit smirked.

  “What you got in mind? ’Cause I’ve got plenty to worry about, and not much cause for celebration these days.”

  “Well,” said Honey. “How about you’re celebrating that tonight, at least, you don’t need to worry about any of that? You can relax, sit back, and enjoy some wine and good company.”

  Grit knew right then and there that this meeting was more about pleasure than business. He felt his cock harden a bit in his jean as his eyes move up and down Honey’s body.

  “I guess that depends on how good the company is,” said Grit.

  “Hm,” said Honey. “Let me show you.”

  She took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes fixed on Grit all the while. When she was done, she set her glass down, stood up, and walked over to the stereo. Bending over, her ass pointed right at Grit, she flipped the stereo and turned it to a sultry R&B station.

  “So far, so good,” said Grit. “Now, let’s see what else you got in mind.”

  “Oh, I’ve got plenty,” said Honey, turning back towards Grit. “Mostly, though, it’s you that I’ve been thinking about.”

  “That right?” asked Grit.

  “Mhmm,” said Honey, stepping towards Grit with a sensual, hip-swaying walk. “Don’t know what it is about you, but I just can’t concentrate on anything these days. Makes doing my job pretty hard.”