Rough & Rowdy (Notorious Devils #1) (20 page)

I thank Mary-Anne again and let her know that I’ll have my phone behind the bar, but if there’s an emergency to call her brother. Then I walk out of the house and off to my first day of work…as a cocktail waitress—in a strip club.

Something I never thought I would ever do – in my life.

The club isn’t open yet and Candy,
her real name
, teaches me the cash register and shows me where everything is located. She’s tall and thin, bottle blonde hair and brown eyes. She’s nice and seems sweet. She warns me away from the strippers. They’re competitive and things can get nasty if they think you’re trying to get their tip money.

“Just keep your head down and serve drinks, girl. Don’t make friends with anybody,” she advises.

“Including you?” I ask with a smirk. She giggles.

“We’re on the same team. Sure we live for tips, but we’re down here in the trenches working our asses off. Not up there shakin’ ‘em. Us girls gotta stick together.” She grins and it eases my worry. I like her and I think that working with her could actually be fun.

“So you got a man?” she asks.

Isn’t that the million dollar question?
Do I have a man?
I’m not sure.

I haven’t heard from him in almost a year. Not a letter, not a phone call. Bates keeps me updated on how he’s doing, but Fury doesn’t even pass messages to me through him. Last time Bates went to see Pierce, I gave him a wallet sized hospital photograph of Bear and asked him to give it to Pierce. I never heard a word about it.

“You do,” she says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“I don’t know if I do,” I confess. She nods.

“Complicated. I get that. Boy o’ boy, do I get that.” She grins before the door opens and strippers start to shuffle through. I see Bates walk in a few moments later and he smiles widely before he makes his way toward me.

“Hey, LeeLee. You doin’ okay? Candy gettin’ you all set up?” he asks, wrapping me in a big bear hug.

“Yeah, I’m a lot less nervous than I was when I first got here,” I confess. Bates chuckles.

“I’ll be here the whole time. I’m staying on the floor tonight just to make sure you’re doin’ all right. Nobody’s gonna mess with you, LeeLee,” he murmurs. I rest my head on his shoulder for just a second before I straighten up and give him a wide smile.

“I got this,” I say with determination.

“Yeah, you do,” he grunts.

He tugs on the back of my ponytail before he walks off to do whatever it is managers of a strip club need to do before opening.

“You know Bates, then?” Candy asks. She looks confused.

“Yeah. Back in high school, he dated my little sister,” I explain. She nods before she starts showing me exactly what tables will be mine for the night.

“So, do you know anything about the club then?”

“My complicated situation is the president,” I admit. Her eyes widen in surprise.

“Drifter?” she whispers.

“No, Fury,” I say. Her mouth drops open.

“I only met him once, right before we opened. They were holding interviews for staff; not dancers, but actual staff. He was intimidating as all hell, girl. How did a sweet thing like you end up with him?”

“It just happened. We have a baby together.” I say.

She’ll know about Bear soon enough. I can’t help but boast to anyone who will listen about my little man.

“His kid?” she asks, her voice a mixture of awe and shock.

“Yeah, right before he went away,” I say.

“Fuck. So you’re on your own with a baby?”

“He’s three months old," I reply with a nod. “Bates is always around, though, and his sister lives with me.”

“That’s gotta be rough, him being
gone
-gone,” she says.

I nod.

I need to drop the subject. Luckily, the doors open and men start filing in, thirsty and ready to party.

I don’t think about Pierce, or even Bear, the entire night.

I’m too busy, too distracted, and by the time I haul my ass home at three-thirty in the morning, I’m wrecked. I'm also three hundred dollars richer in tips.

I take a shower and pour myself into bed at four in the morning. Bear wakes up at seven every morning; thankfully, Mary-Anne doesn’t have classes until nine. She gets up with him and I sleep in until she has to leave.

I get a total of four and a half hours of sleep before I start my day all over again, then I have to work again the next night. Four days on and three days off. It’s going to be exhausting, but it’s going to pay the bills.

At this point, that is what I am truly thankful for.

Fury

I live for these visits. The one’s where it’s Sniper and he has something for me. A photograph of my little boy.

A boy.

Bear Pierce Duhart Johnson
.

At first, I was pissed that the kid didn’t have my last name, but Sniper explained to me that she tried to put my name on the birth certificate but they wouldn’t let her.

There’s some kind of form I would have had to sign. Since I wasn’t fuckin’ there to do it, he has her last name. My girl, though, she still gave him my name. It makes me love her even more. He’s beautiful, too. Blonde hair and gray eyes that match my own.

He’s perfect.

“Brother,” Sniper says, pulling me in for a hug and slap on the back.

“Snipe,” I nod. He watches me.

I’ve changed a little in here. My beard a little longer and my hair a fuck ton longer. I haven’t cut it once. Right now, it’s pulled back into a neat ponytail at the base of my neck.

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, the exact same question he asked me months ago, the last time he was here.

“I’m survivin’, brother. Almost halfway done, man. Can’t complain about that shit one bit,” I say. He nods.

“Little dude’s nine months now. Fuck, is he cute, too,” he chuckles.

I try not to hate him. It’s my fault I’m here, not his; but it stings that he gets to see my son and I don’t.

“Got a new picture?” I ask like a crackhead hurtin’ for a hit.

Sniper nods, taking it out of his top pocket and sliding it across the table. I flip it over and my heart fucking pounds in my goddamned chest.

It isn’t just a picture of Bear, like I’ve been getting.

It’s a picture of Kentlee and Bear together.

My whole fuckin’ world in one picture, staring right back at me.

I trace the side of her face and can almost feel her soft skin. She’s kneeling on the floor in a low cut, plain white tank. I can see the swell of her larger breasts peeking out—
fuck, they look good
. She’s got her hands out and he’s standing, holding onto her for dear life, with a huge slobbery smile on his face and four teeth in his mouth—two on top and two on bottom.

“She needs to hear from you,” he says.

I shake my head, placing the picture in my pocket, unable to look at the glowing perfection of that fucking image and all that I’m missing for a second longer.

“Not while I’m here,” I adamantly state.

“Brother, she’s workin’ her tail off, taking care of your kid, and she doesn’t even know if you still want her. If you still want
them
. Bitches need reassurance. She’s gone through a ton of shit since you been locked up. You need to
call
her,” he urges.

I feel my fists clench at his words.

“What shit’s she been through? I thought you were watching out for her, for them?” I bark. He sighs before leaning back in his chair.

“The fatherless sons haven’t been a problem. They’re lying low these days, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just mean she went through labor, brought your son into this world, went back to work, and she’s lonely. Her family still won’t have nothin’ to do with her, aside from the brother, who calls her every couple of weeks. She has me and Mary-Anne, but that’s it,” he says.

It fuckin’ breaks my heart. Kentlee is sweet, loving, and so fuckin’ perfect. She should be surrounded by people who love her.

“Where’s her head at?” I ask.

“She’s strong as fuck; stronger than any Old Lady I’ve ever known. Always got a smile on her face, no matter how fuckin’ beat she is. At that baby’s side if he makes a fuckin’ whimper. She’s there, man. You’d be proud of her. She’s a good mom, a hard worker, and she’s strong— so fuckin’ strong.”

I don’t miss how many times he praises her strength. He wants me to know that claiming her as my Old Lady would be the smart thing to do. He just doesn’t realize that I’ve never wanted one. Making her my Old Lady is a commitment I wouldn’t and couldn’t take lightly.

As opposed to making her the mother of my child?

Christ
, I’m a fuck up.

“I’ll think about calling her,” I say, mostly to get him off of my back.

“You talk to your Pops?” he asks, changing the subject. I’m grateful for it.

“Yeah. Pissed as fuck he didn’t meet Kentlee before the baby came. Wants to get out to Idaho, but there’s trouble in his own neck of the woods with those racists,” I tell him.

My Pops has been trying to cut club ties with the whole Aryan group. I’m fuckin’ pleased as punch; hated those racist pricks from day one. But they’re proving to be a problem. A problem that comes bearing bombs and shit. Total redneck bullshit, too.

“Yeah, troubles starting to leak down our way from them, too. We’re all on alert though, brother. Keeping shit wrapped up tight,” he informs me. I nod.

A few minutes later, visiting hour is over and it’s time for me to go back to purgatory.

“She fuckin’ anyone?” I ask, though I don’t know why.

I shouldn’t want to know.

What a woman does when her man is in prison for as long as I’m in shouldn’t matter.

All I should give a fuck about is that she’s taking care of my son.

“She’d never do you like that, brother,” he says. His eyes stay firm with mine, never wavering.
Fucking full-fledged truth.

“Had to ask,” I say with a shrug before turning to walk away.

“Fury,” he calls. I lift my head to look back at him.

“Call her. She loves you, brother,” he says, and then leaves me standing there.

She loves me
.

Does she?

I know the answer to that. I knew the answer before I was even locked up. Of course she loves me; and I fuckin’ love the hell out of her.

Then
why
? Why can't I claim her and make her one hundred percent mine?

Why can’t I think about having my name permanently marked on her body for the world to see?

Why does it scare me and make me nervous? I am a total goddamned failure.

If my father knew my turmoil, he’d probably punch me in the nose for being a pussy dickwad.

I’m not stepping up to my responsibilities.

I’m not being a man.

I’m a coward.

I don’t call Kentlee, because of the coward I am. I can’t hear her voice. I can’t hear the tears I know that she will shed when she finally hears my voice on the line. I can’t let her hear my own tears. Tears I will surely cry for her. Tears I have already cried for her, a thousand times over.
I’m a pussy
. A complete and total pussy.

One day, I’ll be strong enough to call her. One day, I’ll be strong enough to write to her. But for now, I just hold her picture in my hand and stare at it. The smile on her face, the happy yet tired look in her eyes. The extra curves to her beautiful body. If I thought that body was hot as fuck before, it has nothing on what carrying my kid gave her. Bigger tits, wider hips and her trim waist is still small, but softer. She looks good—
sexy as fuck
, gorgeous as ever, and tired too—but good.

Maybe Sniper is just trying to make me feel bad. She doesn’t look like she’s suffering too much. I try to convince myself that I’m right, and Snipe is just feeding me bullshit, but I know the truth. I see it in her pretty eyes. She’s exhausted. I close my eyes, counting down the end of another day.

Twenty-two more months and I’ll be back home. Back to my woman and my kid, where I belong.

Twenty-two more months until I can take leadership back in my own club.

Twenty-two more months of hell and it’ll all be over.

I’ll be flying on easy street—just twenty-two more months.

Kentlee

T
wo years to the day.

That is how long Pierce has been gone.

It has been two years and four days since I have heard his voice. I should move on. I should try dating and finding someone else who will love me. Someone who will be there at night, not only for me, but for Bear as well.
I should – but I can’t.

My heart aches for one person, and one person only –
Pierce “Fury” Duhart
.

The selfish bastard.

If I could make myself forget him, I would – in a heartbeat.

If I could make myself forget the way I felt when he touched me, when he looked at me – I would do it without looking back.

But I can’t.

I still dream of him.

I dream about being held in his arms.

I dream about the way he would groan my name when he was inside of me.

I’m past the point of sadness. Now I’m angry.

So fucking angry.

I feel a hand on my ass and then it slaps me. I look down to see a man from a bachelor party. He’s completely wasted and he’s smiling like an idiot. I roll my eyes and keep walking. It happens every night I work.