Bobcat (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 2) Read online

  Though, boss or no boss, if she didn’t want to be scent marked, I’d still have to respect her wishes.

  I cleaned up in the bathroom and brought her a damp washcloth. I barely raised my voice to say, “Squatch, why don’t you come make a proper introduction?”

  A few seconds later, Squatch used his master keycard to open the door, and he stepped in while I was wiping Kitty’s ass to get the lube off.

  “Meet your new boss,” Squatch told her. “He wanted to experience things as a customer before he met the staff.”

  Kitty sat up and looked horrified, and I tossed her shift to her. Shapeshifters aren’t bothered by nudity, but I figured the gesture would be appreciated.

  “You know how short-staffed the MC has been,” I told her. “I ran the workin’ girls in Chattanooga, so they brought me in to run Blaze.”

  “Why me?”

  I shrugged. “I prefer the girls who aren’t hardened businesswomen yet. Trinity isn’t my type, but she did a good job gettin’ me the kind of girl I asked for, and you passed with flying colors. I’m meeting with the attorney tomorrow, but it seems someone’s done a good job of teaching ya’ll what to say.”

  Her scent went sour, and I looked to Squatch for an explanation. He shrugged. “Lawyer’s a bitch on wheels. No one much likes her, but she’s damned good at her job.”

  I looked at Kitty, considering. “Walk me back in and sit me somewhere close to the stage without being in the center of the action. Let a waitress know I want two double-burgers with bacon, chicken fingers, fries, and a whiskey sour. Make it a double. Tell the dancers I’m a good tipper and I like attention.” I gave her a stern look. “Don’t tell them I’m the new boss.”

  She nodded, and Squatch chuckled. “Kitty’s good at following orders. I’m working ’til close.”

  Which was only another four hours. The club used to be open from four p.m. until four a.m., but during the week we opened at five and closed at two now, and we weren’t open at all on Mondays. Most of the brothers and all of the prospects were working at multiple locations in order to keep everything open. Operating hours had been altered across the board for all businesses.

  Chapter Two

  Tess

  I detest having to deal with morons. The RTMC is one of my best clients, but I frequently wish I could slap the shit out of the some of the brothers. My job would be so much easier if I could pummel the information into their heads. In the years I’ve worked with them, they’ve learned to listen to me, but new guys are always a pain in my ass.

  The MC’s downtown clubhouse was firebombed during the power outage and subsequent riots, which had actually been a huge battle between good and evil. I’d been doubtful the supernatural factions could keep the humans from figuring it out, but somehow, they’d managed.

  When the battle was over, real estate prices dropped like a rock while civilization tried to reorganize. So many dead people, so many houses and commercial properties for sale, it was a buyers’ market.

  The RTMC took advantage of the prices and bought an apartment complex. They were using the posh clubhouse as the MC’s temporary clubhouse, and the brothers were living in the complex for the time being, since a big selling point for renters was the safety factor. They had a long waiting list of prospective renters despite charging a good deal more than neighboring apartment complexes, so it turned out to be a good investment.

  Meanwhile, the men were deciding whether to rebuild their downtown clubhouse or to put a large restaurant in where it’d been, and buy land or an existing structure in a less expensive part of town for their new clubhouse. Other chapters in neighboring cities took an entire city block, and they were looking at that model for security reasons.

  I pulled into the apartment complex and parked in front of the pool. A gorgeous man stood outside the clubhouse door, leaned against the building with his arms crossed. He was wearing a cut and I didn’t recognize him, so he was probably Bobcat. I groaned inwardly and desperately hoped he wasn’t a real bobcat, but my nose told me he was as soon as I opened the door.

  He lifted a brow as I neared. “Wolverine?” He shook his head. “No. Mongoose?”

  “Most shifters in Alabama don’t immediately recognize the scent.”

  He offered his hand and I shook it. He smelled like he’d been in bed with two female wolves all night and into the morning, but that wasn’t surprising. Most of the sweetbutts were supernaturals. I scented tiger, but not too heavy. He was apparently as much of a whore as the women he managed.

  “I’m Bobcat, and I’m not from around here. I assume you’re Tess McKnight?”

  “I am. Do I smell barbecue?”

  “I was hoping you weren’t a vegetarian. This is breakfast for me, but I figure it’s lunch for you. We’re spread out in the conference room.”

  The clubhouse had come with a large community room, a decent kitchen, a media room, and offices for the complex manager and maintenance guy. The media room was now the conference room, and where the club held church. Mad Dog got one office, and the other office was turned into the control room. The large community room was populated with sofas, pool tables, and huge televisions hanging on two walls. With only six members and three prospects, they didn’t need a whole lot of room anymore. There hadn’t been as much fighting in Mobile, and two of their members were supposed to be moving up the following month, but for the time being, the club was damned short staffed.

  “I figured they’d bring more wolves in.” They had three wolves, an owl, and two bears, and I was under the impression the wolves had to have a significant majority. Maybe they’d floated some rules for the chapters who’d lost so many people.

  Bobcat shrugged, and his streaked blond hair moved and caught the light. Something told me it was the same pattern as his cat’s hair, so he’d never be able to keep it too short. Long, it looked like a stylist had streaked it with a dozen colors of blond. Short, the markings might look like a cat’s.

  He opened the door, motioned me inside, and followed me in.

  “I ran the workin’ girls in Chattanooga. Birmingham sent the call out, askin’ for someone who could handle Blaze. We have several people who can do my job back home, and I’m single, so it made sense for me to come down.”

  Why did it make sense? Running a brothel and managing a titty bar aren’t at all the same. “How did it make sense?”

  He shrugged. “Mad Dog told me you appreciate details. In a nutshell, the Birmingham chapter offered me a substantial pay package that included a free apartment if I’d come for a full year. I have the option to stay at the end if the members vote me in, but I don’t intend to let it come to a vote. Chattanooga’s my home.”

  I shook my head. The poor kitty thought dancers and workin’ girls were the same. He hadn’t even understood my question. Oh, did he have a lot to learn. I debated whether to tell him or let him figure it out, but decided to go ahead and let him in on the differences. He’d need to be able to manage them effectively — if he couldn’t, the odds of people getting arrested went up. My job is to keep them out of jail, and I do it by just about any means necessary.

  “Dancers aren’t like workin’ girls. They’re divas with a capital D. Not only that, but the dancers and waitresses hate each other. The waitresses think they’re better than the dancers because they keep their clothes on, and the dancers think the waitresses are judgmental prudes. The waitresses resent the dancers for making so much more money, and the dancers think the waitresses are idiots for keeping their clothes on and making diddly. Everyone has to pretend it’s a big happy party so the customers keep coming back, and it mostly is, but...” I shrugged, trying to figure out how to explain it. “The waitresses clue the bartenders in about big spenders, and the bartenders tell the dancers. They don’t talk to each other, even for business. Don’t expect those factions to get along.”

  He took his time getting food, and I did the same — and tried to ignore the way his forearm muscles flexed when he put food on hi
s plate. The man had no right to be so damned sexy. My body wanted to react, but no way in hell was I going to let a cat smell arousal on me.

  “Thanks for the heads up. Our girls in Chattanooga were heavily coached in ways to get the john to ask for what he wants the first time they see him, even though he’s already had to do that at least once to get to her. It seems to me we’re at a greater risk here, since the johns are going directly to the girls. I went to the club as a customer last night and tested a few of the dancers. It sounds like they’ve been just as heavily coached, which is good. Our VP and his geek sidekick handled most of the training back home, but they tell me you handle that for us down here.”

  Well, the man didn’t appear to be an idiot. Perhaps the afternoon was looking up. “Yes, but it’s unofficial, and the man you’re replacing gave frequent reminders. I expect you’ll do the same. Since you’re already familiar with the laws where you’re from, today will probably go easier. Before we get started, you should know the cops are probably going to raid you before you have a chance to find your stride, in the hopes they’ll trip you up. They know the girls take people next door. They can’t prove the MC owns the hotel, but they know there are shell companies they can’t get beyond, so they figure it’s MC property. The hotel manager is the illegitimate son of a former member, someone who died during the battle. There’s no paperwork tying the two men together, so they can’t figure it out.”

  Because with few exceptions, a brother manages everything owned by the MC. In this case, Mad Dog must feel the guy is loyal enough to trust him. Or that he knows enough about how the bikers operate so he won’t dare double-cross them.

  “I figured local LEO would still be too busy keeping the peace to screw with strippers.”

  “Their numbers suck right now. They’ve just about lost the rule of law and everyone knows it. If they can make a dozen or more arrests in one night and have them stick, they’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

  I expected to smell trepidation or anxiety, but he was a rock. Nothing seemed to faze him.

  He sat and prepared to start eating. “I’ve dealt with raids. Granted, it’s easier when you know the cops who storm the place, but as long as the employees do as they’re supposed to, we’ll be fine.”

  “Tell me what you do when they storm the place.”

  Thirty minutes later, I was impressed. Bobcat not only knew the Tennessee laws inside and out, he’d taken the time to read through the relevant Alabama laws online. He told me the sections of the code he’d read, and asked if there were more he should familiarize himself with. I wrote them down for him and leaned back to observe him better. He wasn’t just a pretty kitty, and I was intrigued.

  He was perhaps six feet tall and muscular, but not like a bodybuilder. Cats are all coiled power, and Bobcat was all cat. I was wearing three-inch heels, which put me at five foot seven inches — still around five inches shorter than him.

  I don’t have sex with clients, and I don’t do cats, so why the fuck was I so focused on his hair and muscles and scent? Because he had a brain? No, I was admiring his physique before I even got out of the car.

  “We have a staff meeting at two,” he said, “so I can meet the Blaze employees before we open at four. Sounds like most everyone arrives either thirty minutes or an hour before we open to get ready, so we’ll have about an hour for our talk. Mad Dog is bringing two sweetbutts in as dancers, and he’ll introduce them and assure the staff he isn’t handing out pay cuts. Most of the surrounding restaurants are having to pay less in order to stay in business, and he wants to make sure we hold onto our people so we don’t have to worry with hiring new.” He ran his hand through his too-long but sexy-as-fuck hair. “Basically, I should have about thirty minutes to talk to them. Do you need me to remind them of anything in particular?”

  “Praise Trinity and the tiger for saying the right things when you tested them. Point out that a raid is likely to happen in the next couple of days, so the cops can test you before you get a good handle on things. Assure them you know what to do, and remind them to be polite, follow instructions, and keep their mouths shut. In the past, interrogators have shown picture after picture of a dancer going to the hotel with different men, and told them ‘It’s the MC we want, not you. Tell us your side of the story and we won’t arrest you for prostitution.’ Let Sasquatch remind them the MC is there to protect them unless they talk to cops, and how unhealthy it will be to find themselves on the MC’s bad side. If the girls keep asking for a lawyer and refusing to talk, they won’t be arrested. It’s been years since the DA has tried one of the dancers, because he always lost. The new DA doesn’t have enough evidence to convict, so she won’t screw her numbers up trying if she can’t get someone to talk.”

  “How are they gettin’ pictures? We walked through a wooded area, and I figured it’d been allowed to overgrow to keep five-o from watchin’ too close. We went in a side door without visibility from the road or parking lot.”

  Bobcat had clearly been brought to town as more than a body to fill a cut. The man was smart, but could he handle Blaze? Maybe. It’s a tough job, and the girls were going to try to walk all over him.

  “The angle of the shots was from above. The rooms allowing easy surveillance of that door are the last to be rented out now, and the front desk is careful to give them to people who don’t present as cops. The supernatural girls know to give the front desk a heads-up if they smelled someone on their walk over, so we’re pretty good at getting rid of surveillance in the woods. The MC also regularly checks the area for spy cameras. A judge hasn’t signed a warrant allowing for them in a while, but you need to stay vigilant.”

  Chapter Three

  Bobcat

  No way in hell did I need to get involved with a damned attorney, but the little mongoose had hit all my buttons. It’d been everything I could do to keep from broadcasting my arousal. I had just enough time to get to the meeting when she left, or I’d have found a sweetbutt and tore her up good.

  I’d memorized names and faces when I’d gone back into the bar the night before, and had spent a few hours in the office after closing looking through personnel files. No one would need to be introduced to me.

  I stayed in my office until two o’clock, watching security feeds of people arriving. I checked people off as they entered, so I knew who was missing.

  The room went silent when I opened the door and came out of my office. Without looking around, I walked through the room and leapt onto the stage. I scented and saw surprise when they recognized me from the night before.

  “I’m Bobcat, and I’m the new manager. I wanted to come in as a customer last night, to get a feel for the place.” I looked at Heather, the human waitress who’d served me when I first arrived. “You could be friendlier. Billy treated me so much better once I was in her station.”

  The dancers were sitting twenty feet from the waitresses, and I looked back and forth between the groups. “I’ve been RTMC for a long damned time, and I ran the workin’ girls in the city I came from. They all got along, and if they didn’t, they kept it to themselves. It looks like ya’ll have drawn battle lines, and I’m tellin’ you now, keep it to yourselves. I’ll only deal with so much drama before you’ll have a choice of having your pay docked or taking a belting from me.” I shrugged. “Or, in some instances, getting fired or taking an even worse belting from me and maybe a couple of other brothers.”

  I gave that a few moments to soak in before I softened it with, “No one will ever be fucked as punishment. Mad Dog assures me that hasn’t been the case in the past, and I’m assuring you it isn’t going to happen under my management, either. However, I will be belting anyone who needs to have his or her ass beat.” I looked towards the kitchen staff as I said the last part, and then looked around again. “If you don’t want to bend over and accept a belting, you won’t have to. There will always be the option to have your pay docked or walk out the door and not return. No one is going to hold you down against your will.�
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  The door opened and Soul walked in with Atlas. Soul was a dancer, Atlas a bartender, and they were both copperhead shifters. Brother and sister.

  “You’re late. You can each either choose to bare your ass and accept ten strikes of my belt, or you’ll give up half your tips for tonight’s shift. No need to decide right now. I’ll see you one at a time in my office after the meeting. Have a seat. I’m Bobcat, and you’re Soul and Atlas. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you’ve shown disrespect with your tardiness so that isn’t the case.”

  Before anyone could react, I changed the subject and addressed the group again. “I met with the local attorney today, and she tells me we’ll probably be raided in the next day or so.”

  The next twenty minutes involved legalities and how to keep from being prosecuted, and then Mad Dog came in with the two new dancers. They’d work the room and the side stages a week or two while they developed their stage persona and practiced until I said they were good enough. They were sweetbutts, and I’d fucked the wolf when I’d been in Alabama for visits, but I’d never fucked the human and likely wouldn’t. You have to be too careful with humans, and I play rough.

  Mad Dog introduced the new dancers, pointed them to sit with the other dancers, and jumped on the stage with me to tell everyone I was in charge, and he understood I planned to use my belt along with the docking of pay, and that I’d cleared it with him. I scented anger and fear along with some curiosity, and at least two dancers were aroused, but I couldn’t pick out which two.

  I called out a list of the five supernaturals and told them to go into my office. While they walked away, I told the rest of the staff, “I hope to have everyone in my office for a twenty-minute chat sometime in the next two weeks. I’ll put a schedule on the wall beside my door. Whether you come in twenty minutes early, stay twenty minutes late, or use your break to see me is entirely up to you, so long as you sign up. If you don’t fill in a time, I’ll tell you when to be here.”