Club 22 (Hades Book 3) Read online

  Zed shifted beside me, clearing his throat as he draped his arm along the back of the couch. It was the same pose he'd been sitting in earlier, except this time his arm was draped over my shoulders and his fingers brushed my exposed upper arm, thanks to the sleeveless top I wore.

  "Anything else we need to know, Gen?" he asked, calm as anything.

  She shook her head, her whole posture tight like she expected me to bite her head off for delivering this less-than-exciting news. "No, sir. Sirs. That's it. I was driving past and saw your Ferrari here. Figured it was quicker to tell you in person."

  I simmered with something uncomfortably close to jealousy. Or possessiveness. She’d seen Zed's car. She’d come to tell Zed in person. I didn't enjoy feeling like that toward Gen because she had earned my professional respect already. And that was rare.

  "We appreciate it," I told her in a carefully cool voice. "We'll get it dealt with."

  Her gaze flicked between Zed and I, then she jerked a nod and made her exit. Smart woman, she knew she'd been dismissed.

  When we were alone again, I breathed out a long, angry sigh. "Fucking Chase."

  Zed hummed a sound of agreement, his fingers still idly stroking my arm. "Wanna go shoot some shit to blow off steam?"

  I snorted a laugh. "Yes. I'd rather shoot someone, but sadly, no one has challenged my authority lately."

  Zed arched a lopsided smile. "I think you scared them all straight when you killed Cass."

  Speaking of my Grumpy Cat, I pulled my phone from my bag and checked to see if he'd messaged me. He hadn't, but I did have a series of missed calls from Special Agent Hanson.

  I showed Zed, then hit redial on her latest missed call if for no other reason than to satisfy my own curiosity. I'd made it pretty damn clear that I wouldn't help her find her nephew's body, so what was she calling about now?

  "Ms. Wolff," the FBI agent answered, sounding all business. "We need to speak in a professional capacity. Would you like me to come to you?"

  Surprise and intrigue rippled through me. "That depends, Dorothy. Will another of my venues explode if I agree to meet you again?"

  There was a strained silence, broken only by the echoing click of her shoes on a floor. Then she grunted an irritated sound. "I guess I can't make any guarantees. You've got a lot of enemies, Ms. Wolff."

  Surprised, a small laugh escaped my throat. "Fair call, Dorothy. I have to head over to Club 22 for an appointment; I can meet you there in two hours when I’m done."

  I ended the call, then turned to look at Zed.

  He just stared back at me like he was thinking, then tilted his head to the side. "What appointment do you have at 22?"

  I couldn't stop the smirk creeping over my lips. "Maxine is meeting me to go over her dance routine again." His brows shot right up, and I gave a laugh as I pushed up from the couch. "I don't renege on my deals, Zeddy Bear. A bet's a bet."

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and gave a pained groan before standing up as well. "I'll drive you."

  I swallowed my smug laughter, not even slightly surprised at the offer. But if he thought he was going to sit in and watch me fumble through Club 22's sexiest and most athletic strip tease, he was sorely mistaken. My rehearsals with Maxine were behind closed doors.

  Hannah called me as we climbed into Zed's car, and I put her on speakerphone as she ran through my schedule for the rest of the week and gave me quick but detailed updates on the other initiatives she'd taken. I'd never had my own assistant before, so she'd identified jobs I didn't even know needed doing. All in all, I was impressed.

  "I like her," Zed commented after I ended the call.

  I clicked my tongue in irritation before I could catch myself, and Zed let out a low laugh.

  "Not like that, Dare. Fuck, you're quick to think the worst of me."

  I rolled my eyes, shifting my gaze to look out the window. "Can you blame me?" After all, he was notorious for sleeping his way around our female employees. Not that I'd been a freaking nun, but I didn't bang our staff and make a whole thing about it.

  Zed didn't respond to that comment for an extended moment, then let out a long breath. "Fair call. But that's not what I meant about Hannah. I just think she's a good addition to Team Hades, you know? Her background fully checks out too. No skeletons, other than her shitty ex-boyfriend, but Cass handled that one pretty well already."

  I gave a grim smile, remembering how Cass had beat the ever-loving snot out of Johnny Rock and then broken his arm as a message from Hannah. Served him fucking right for laying hands on a sweet girl like her.

  19

  My rehearsal with Maxine was grueling at best. I'd never felt as uncoordinated and unsexy as I did while attempting to emulate her lithe grace and seductiveness. There was a reason I owned the clubs and didn't dance in them.

  Maxine, to her credit, had managed not to make fun of me too hard. There was more than a healthy dose of amusement in her eyes every time I fell off the pole, though.

  "This is a disaster," I groaned, rubbing my head after falling out of an inverted spin and smacking my forehead on the stage. I'd kicked Zed and Rodney out when Maxine had arrived, so thankfully, we didn't have an audience. The same couldn't be said for Friday night when I'd be fulfilling my end of the stupid shooting bet I'd made with Zed.

  Maxine bit back a smile as she offered me a hand up. She wore staggeringly tall heels and didn't even wobble in the slightest as she pulled me up. I had to hand it to her, she was impressively strong.

  "It's not as bad as you think," she told me as I stretched my aching limbs out. "You're actually picking it up really fast. But... if it's okay, boss, I might make some tweaks to remove those few moves that you're stuck on."

  A small wave of relief rushed over me, and I nodded. "More than okay. The last thing I need is to publicly humiliate myself right now." I winced, touching that sore spot on my head again.

  Maxine grinned. "I'll get you some ice. I should probably go now anyway; I have class in half an hour." She sashayed across to the bar like those seven-inch stripper heels were nothing but an extension of her long legs and filled a cloth with ice for me.

  "What class have you got?" I asked when she returned and handed over the ice. I sat on the edge of the stage and unstrapped the Perspex heels she'd loaned me to dance in. She insisted shoes changed the way a stripper moved, for the better, and I had to admit she was right. They added an extra sway to each movement. Sexy as hell, on her.

  She sat down beside me, taking her own shoes off. "I'm doing online classes with SGU, working towards my doctorate in physiotherapy,” she told me with a proud smile. "I'm fascinated with muscle structure and how to ease pain for athletes and dancers."

  A loud knock on the front door interrupted before I could ask her anything else—or even question why I was suddenly feeling compelled to get to know my staff on a personal level.

  "You done in here?" Zed called out through the cracked door. "Agent Hanson just pulled into the parking lot."

  I stifled a groan. "Yes, we're done; you can come in."

  He pushed the door open further and sauntered in with a curious expression on his face. His sharp eyes ran down my body, taking his damn time checking out the skimpy outfit Maxine had me wearing for practice. She said I needed skin to grip the pole properly, and she wasn't wrong.

  "Hey Zed," my tutor greeted him, and his gaze shifted to her briefly before coming back to me.

  "Max," he replied, with an edge of... something. Warning? Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  She cleared her throat and quickly gathered up her things, stuffing them all into her bag as she moved. "I should run. See you on Thursday, sir?"

  I gave her a nod. "Yep, Thursday. Thanks, Maxine."

  She all but ran out of the bar, and I glared daggers at Zed. "You fucked Maxine, didn't you?"

  His lips curled in a lopsided smile as he came closer to where I still sat on the edge of the stage. "Ages ago," he replied with a shrug. "You jealous?"

  I
narrowed my gaze. "Just surprised. You never really hide your conquests, and I had no idea about—" I cut myself off, understanding clicking in my brain. "You didn't fuck. You dated." Because the only time Zed was ever circumspect about his love life was when it was more than just fucking.

  He cocked a brow, laying his hands on my bare thighs and standing in the gap between them. "Again, are you jealous, Hades? Max and I were over a long time ago."

  "Don't call me that," I whispered before I could catch the thought and keep it inside.

  Zed tilted his head, the warmth of his hands on my thighs all kinds of distracting. "Hades?"

  I gave a short nod as I licked my lips, not trusting my voice. But shit, it just hit differently now. Now that he'd reverted to calling me Dare, I didn't want to backslide. No one close to me actually used the name Hades anymore.

  Zed didn't push the issue or make a big deal out of it. He just gave a short nod, then brushed his knuckle over my cheek in the softest of gestures. "Go shower and change, Dare," he told me in a gentle voice. "I'll entertain Agent Hanson until you're done."

  I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to make it bleed, but instead of kissing him like I wanted to, I climbed to my feet and headed out to the dancers’ showers. Zed had made his position clear, and I needed to respect that. He wanted me to kiss him and be fully present in the moment with him, and I just wasn't sure I could do that yet. I'd a thousand times over rather torture myself than hurt him again.

  Still, all throughout my shower I kept hoping, wishing his control would snap and he'd join me. Vivid fantasies of Zed nailing me against the shower wall played out across my mind, and I had to finish my shower on ice cold.

  It took me a whole lot longer to get dressed than was polite, but at the end of the day, I still held the upper hand. Whatever Agent Hanson wanted to discuss, she needed my help, or this wouldn't be a polite meeting on my turf.

  Lucas had called earlier to tell me he wanted to stay with his mom tonight, and while I wasn’t thrilled about him being in danger, I also had to respect his wishes. So I took an extra couple of minutes to check in with Alexi and ensure Lucas’s house was under heavy protection in case Chase tried to take another swipe at my Gumdrop. When I received confirmation back that the team was in place, I let a small bit of tension ease and headed back out to the main club.

  "Dorothy," I called out as I strode across the dancefloor to where Zed had seated her in a small booth. "Nice to see you again so soon."

  She gave me a tight smile but didn't offer her hand for me to shake.

  "Agent Hanson, now that Hades is present, why don't you tell us what this is about," Zed suggested smoothly, informing me that she'd been unwilling to fill him in without me. Curious.

  The fed cleared her throat and linked her hands on the table in front of her. "Yes, I'll make this quick. I'm here to make inquiries about a young woman named Maryanne Green."

  The name meant nothing to me, but I could tell Zed knew something, based on the way his spine straightened slightly.

  "I don't believe I know Maryanne Green," I replied to the agent honestly. "I'm not sure how I can be of any help."

  Agent Hanson gave a short sigh. "She also used the alias Mercedes Glitter. I understand she was an employee at your club 7th Circle."

  That name seemed a whole lot more familiar. Mercedes was one of our back-of-house employees—a high class prostitute. Officially, she was employed as a cocktail waitress, though.

  "Yes, I know Mercedes," I confirmed, "but I haven't seen her since 7th Circle blew up." I looked to Zed in question, knowing he had been working on reassigning all our staff to other clubs so none of them were left unemployed. Sex workers or not, they still had bills to pay like any other working adult in society. It wasn't their fault my psychotic ex had blown up their place of business.

  Agent Hanson grimaced. "No, I suspect not. Her body was found in her apartment this morning by a neighbor who was investigating the smell. Looks like she was killed at least a week ago."

  I flicked a quick glance at Zed and registered the confusion in his eyes before refocusing on Agent Hanson. "That's awful," I said with sincerity. "I'm going to assume it's foul play or you wouldn't be here. Actually, why are you here? Shouldn't this be SGPD’s jurisdiction?"

  Dorothy gave a slight nod. "It would be, if the manner of death didn't echo the way some girls were recently killed in three other states. And there’s the fact that she was an employee of a known gang organization."

  I met her accusing glare without even the slightest hesitation. If she honestly thought I couldn't look her dead in the eye as I lied, she'd severely underestimated me.

  "I think you're mistaken, Agent Hanson," I said in a cool tone. "Copper Wolf Enterprises is a legal business, paying taxes and adhering to all industry standards for hospitality venues. If you're thinking of the Tri-State Timberwolves, I think you'll find they were wiped out some five years ago."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Sure they were, Ms. Wolff." The sarcasm was heavy, and I almost laughed. Almost. "Look, I just came to ask if you know of any altercations she might have had while she was under your employment. Any overly aggressive customers or maybe a lover?"

  "Nothing I can think of right now," I replied truthfully, "but I can have Alexi, my head of security, look back through our logbook and check for any incidents involving Mercedes."

  Agent Hanson gave a small nod. "I'd appreciate that. You have my number if you find anything."

  She got up to leave, but I clicked my tongue thoughtfully. "I get the feeling you didn't expect to actually get anything from this conversation, Dorothy. Care to tell me why you really came here today?"

  The sneaky bitch just shot me a knowing smile. "Not really. You have a nice day, Ms. Wolff. Mr. De Rosa."

  She exited the club, and I swiveled my gaze to pin Zed to his seat. "Start talking, Zayden. What do you know?"

  He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Mercedes and I were... friendly."

  My stomach twisted with anger and jealousy again, and I had to swallow the curses that threatened to spew out at him. "Of course you were," I muttered instead.

  He let out a frustrated growl. "It wasn't recent. But she was a nice girl; she definitely didn't deserve to get murdered."

  I gave a short, humorless laugh. Any normal person might have questioned if anyone deserved to be murdered. Zed and I knew better, though. Plenty of people deserved it, every damn day. It was just a shame those people weren't the ones dying.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out to check who was calling. A slice of red-hot fear hit my chest when I saw the caller ID, and I hurried to answer.

  "What's wrong?" I asked, biting the edge of my thumbnail.

  "I'm fine," Cass replied, reassuring me, "just wanted to hear your voice, Red."

  My breath rushed out, taking the panic along with it and leaving me with a slight tremble in my limbs. "You fucker," I whispered, "I thought something had gone wrong."

  Zed knew who I was talking to and remained silent. He shifted his position to let his thigh rest against mine, though, offering support, as always.

  "Nah," Cass replied with a yawn, "I was just thinking about last night, about the way you looked on your knees with my dick in your mouth... Made me wanna call you."

  Warmth rushed to my face, and other places, and I became acutely aware of Zed's leg against mine.

  "I'm just at Club 22 with Zed," I told Cass, silently begging him not to push this further. Not right now.

  He gave a low, husky laugh on the other end of the phone line, catching the warning in my voice. "Fair enough, I should have waited to call later. But I was wondering if you could help me out on something."

  "Anything," I murmured.

  Zed shifted in his seat, his hand finding my knee. Goddamn it, he had some kind of sixth sense for knowing when I was turned on. It didn't help that Lucas had left me high and dry earlier, too.

  "Can I get you to stop by Scruffy's tonight? I h
eard whispers that Roach is having some teething pains with his leadership. Might be good to remind the rats that he has Hades backing him." Cass sounded like he resented even having to ask, but he was right. What better way to pull the Reapers back in line than to remind them their leader had my approval?

  "Of course," I replied. "Lucas is staying with his mom tonight, but Zed and I can go. Anyone in particular that needs to learn a lesson?"

  Cass grunted an angry noise. "Yeah, little bitch calling himself Mad Dog. He's been stirring shit up about why they're locked out of the PCP market. Got a couple of the other young ones on his side too."

  Anger simmered in my belly. Loads of Reapers—just like Timberwolves—were decent human beings making the best of a bad life. Some, like this Mad Dog, were not. "I'll take care of it," I promised him.

  "You're an angel," he rumbled back, and that sound went straight to my pussy. Goddamn, I needed to relieve that pressure soon. Fucking Lucas was officially on my shit list.

  Zed's fingers stroked the inside of my knee, and I shot him a warning glance. "Anything for you, Saint," I replied, holding Zed's gaze like a challenge. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me? I couldn't seem to stop taunting Zed, even though it was my damage and my hang-ups standing between us.

  Cass gave another one of those husky laughs. "Text me when you get home tonight," he ordered.

  Agreeing, I ended the call and arched a brow at Zed. "Looks like we're heading to Scruffy Murphy's tonight to pull some Reapers into line."

  A wicked grin curled Zed's lips. "Sounds like fun. It's a date."

  It definitely wasn't a date. It was business. So why didn't I correct him? Because I was a goddamn mess, that's why. I was a goddamn, head over heels in love with my best friend mess. And quietly, the idea of going on a date with Zed had my stomach all aflutter with excitement.

  20

  "It's not a fucking date, you stupid twit," I muttered at myself in the mirror as I touched up my winged eyeliner. "It's fucking business. Not a date."

  And yet, that message seemed impossible to get through to the brainless butterflies causing havoc in my belly. Maybe just because I'd grown so used to having either Lucas or Cass around as a buffer between Zed and I? The times we were alone, they were clearly defined business situations, but checking in on the Reapers was blurring the lines. Scruffy Murphy's wasn't one of our clubs, and I had no real obligation to insert myself in Reaper politics. It was a favor to Cass, and now that Zed had put it in my head that it could be a date, I couldn't seem to shake it off.