Bed of Roses (2 page)

Here goes nothing. What’s the worst that can happen? They kill me and dump my carcass in the desert? At least my sorry excuse of a life will be over. The future doesn’t hold much for a girl like me.

Rose gathered her courage and stood, politely waiting for a break in their conversation. When they noticed her still standing there they went silent, turning all eyes on her. She wanted to crawl under the table and hide. Sandman arched an eyebrow, showing no other emotion. “Did you need something?” She jumped, startled by his cold tone but quickly recovered, not wanting to show any weakness. She straightened her posture and smiled, taking in one last breath before she finally spit the words out.

“I’m sorry to interrupt…but I was wondering if you might have any positions open at the casino.” The casino was where the big bucks were. If she could land a job as a cocktail waitress over there, her tips alone would outweigh a week's pay at the diner.

“You lookin’ to quit?” Yo Neg asked in more of an accusation than a question. He was the only one of the brotherhood who looked like he didn’t belong with his blonde hair and blue-green eyes, which was a contradiction to the others. Over her three years of working there, she had learned Yo Neg meant white boy in Cherokee. It didn’t help matters that his legal name was Cory Jones either. Their road names were all somehow a reflection of each member, and Yo Neg’s didn’t disappoint. The club secretary might be a pale skin as they liked to refer to him, but the man was just as vicious, if not more so than the others. In all the time she had been around them, she had never seen the man smile—not even a little.

“Um…no.” Rose lowered her eyes, hoping they didn’t expect an explanation. “I need a second job.” The group finally peeled their eyes off her and glanced amongst themselves in silent conversation before turning back to her. She could see the questioning looks they shot her but much to her surprise, they refrained from the interrogation she expected.

“What kind of job are you looking for?” Tonto asked, putting her on the spot. She felt a little hope despite her embarrassment.

“I’ve heard the cocktail waitresses make a killing over there. It might be enough to keep me from begging for a third job,” Rose half giggled, attempting to pass it off as a joke. Her tough crowd didn’t seem amused.
Great
. The silence was deafening.

Finally, Tonto answered, “No” in a low growl. She had to grasp the edge of the table to keep from fainting in defeat. Her head spun a million miles a minute, going over her work ethic and waitressing since she was hired. It didn’t make sense…she was the best waitress the diner had. She had never been late—never called in sick—and never turned down extra hours. Even on a breakfast rush, she could handle the entire place without skipping a beat. So why didn’t they want her as an employee somewhere else? Then it hit her—the cocktail waitresses wore next to nothing. Their uniform consisted of a black bikini bottom with a blue ruffle skirt, garter belt, stockings, and a low-cut blue blouse that showed
all
the goods. At five foot four, a buck ten, she was far from the slim, long legged beauties that slung drinks there. She was short, but with curves in all the right place.

“Oh, I understand…I know I’m not built physically for it but I hoped my job performance would make up where I lacked in the other department.” Her hands quickly pointed up and down the length of her body in expression.

Tonto saw through her like a window. Her embarrassed expression spoke volumes, and punched him in the gut. It was no secret that a few of the brothers, including himself, had taken a liking to the little firecracker. She wasn’t one of the skanks who would fall on her back until they got it out of their system, and deep down—he didn’t want her to. She was different from the other tail that hung around them. With long brown hair, full hips perfect for gripping on to and a stacked rack, she kept him in a constant state of arousal. The idea of her being tossed to the wolves to fight every prick who floated through didn’t settle right without her having the ability to rake in the tips. For whatever reason, the girl was desperate for cash. Rose was the best employee they had outside of the club.

“Your hot little ass doesn’t need to be around what goes on at the casino. How do you feel about fighting?” Sandman shot Tonto a warning look, getting a fierce warning glance out of the corner of his eye. For such a mean muther fucker, he was dense as a pile of rocks sometimes.

“Fighting? I’m not much of a brawler, but love watching a good fight as much as the rest…” Her cute little nose wrinkled up. He couldn’t help but snicker at how naïve she was.

“Good to know. Be at Devil Den tonight at eight.” Her eyes grew wide, but she quickly nodded, overly thanking them all. Tonto smiled, waiting for her to walk away before he shifted, adjusting himself, and then turned to his officers.

“Sandman, what the fuck? Question me again and you won’t ever need a fuckin’ haircut for as long as you live.”

“Do you think she can handle the fights? They are worse than the men at the casino. She’s…not like us. Hell, I’d almost put money on it that she is a virgin. Women like that don’t belong around our kind,” Sandman spat in a pissier mood than normal.

“She’s got a hot ass—plump and fuckable. Girl like that will make a
killing
in one night. Just don’t let her quit here…I like having my food ready when I walk in.” Yo Neg shoved another heaping fork full of French toast in his mouth, chasing it with a half cup gulp of coffee.

“She’d make a good house mouse. Hot dinner and a good fuck each night...” Tonka, the clubs treasurer, pitched in. Greg Sanders was built like a Tonka truck and had a right hook that was nastier than if a damn bulldozer landed a hit. He was the strong silent type, but knew his shit when it came to anything technical. He managed everything to do with computers, which was a hell of a lot given all their businesses. Contrary to popular belief, a lot of the club members were well-educated college graduates with more creds than most normal civilians. They were always classified as deadbeats and blue collar scum by their tattoos and rough exterior. Tonka kept their assets distributed to off shore accounts and covered their ass with the law. He was younger than the other officers but was mature for his age and almost too intelligent for his own damn good.

“I bet she can work those lips on a dick like a fucking pro.” Chief watched her walk past them to another table. Chief was one of the elders, and Vice President, of the brotherhood. He had been involved in the Devil Savages for longer than most had been alive. Her little ass swayed with each step, giving him an instant hard-on. He reached under the table and adjusted himself, wincing as the zipper scraped his bare shaft. The more he stalked her moves with his eyes, the more he wanted to take her in the bathroom, bend her over the sink, and bury his cock in her to the hilt.

“Not if Raven cuts your shit off first. She doesn’t seem like the type that’ll share. Then again, if you’re wantin’ to trade up, I’d be happy to take Raven off your hands…” Yo Neg joked.

“Watch yourself, white boy. You so much as look at Raven and I’ll put you six foot under—after I cut your eyes out,” Chief snapped.

“Enough. Hurry the fuck up. We got shit to do.” Their new interest in the hot little number didn’t sit well with Tonto. If he thought for one second she could handle their lifestyle—her ass would be tied to his bed faster than a dick shake and wearing his cut permanently. The rest of breakfast, the five chatted about upcoming events and subjects safe enough that if accidently overheard, there wouldn’t be any static. As they all got up to leave, they each pulled a bill out and left it. A five hundred dollar tip was good incentive to not flake on his offer. He wanted to see how she did in their environment. Despite her innocent look, he saw potential hidden, even if she didn't know it was there. It was going to be fun to unwrap the layers to see what was hidden underneath…and under her clothes, if he was lucky.

The MMA fights might be open to the public, but most that attended were bikers. If she could handle it, there might be more in the cards for her. Good help was hard to find. Trustworthy was next to impossible. The Pit was one of their underground businesses held in the basement of Devil’s Den. Between the wagers and the juice the house made off their credit services, it was becoming a good source of income. It also created more demand for collectors, which was why the club had recruited more hang-arounds. Hang-arounds were those who wanted to join the Devil Savages by proving what they had to offer before given a cut and sponsored as a Prospect. Prospects had to prove themselves for a full year before patched in, and it wasn’t an easy twelve months by any means. Whatever the officers told them to do—they were expected to follow through with no questions asked. Unlike hang-arounds, Prospects were on call around the clock. If the ol’ ladies wanted a girls' night, it was their job to be their bodyguards and defend them with their own life if needed. When the patches and officers went on a run, they held down the fort at home and guarded the families. The few who were allowed to ride along were given the position of bike guards and stayed out of the way. They were the bitches of the club. Hang-arounds were worse. No club information was discussed around the hang-arounds. They were outsiders until they proved their worth and what they could bring to the Devil Savages family. Where there was gambling, there was alcohol, and it didn’t serve itself. Tits and slits boosted sales.

Rose watched as they walked out, feeling her cheeks heat and her knees grow weak when Tonto shot her a wink. She hurried to their table to clean it off for the next group waiting to be seated, almost fainting when she spotted the wad of cash left in the middle of the table. “Holy shit,” she whispered in shock. This one tip was more than she made in a week, with overtime. There was no way in hell she was going to pansy out tonight, no matter how dangerous it was. As long as she kept her nose clean and stayed out of trouble, this could be a once in a lifetime shot. Hell, maybe she could start saving to get her own place one day. Right now, her mom needed her to help with the bills and with watching over Lacey and Alice who were seventeen, Ariel who was sixteen, Isabella who was almost five, and Matt who had just turned two. Bella and Matt were the product of her mother’s whoring around, born into a life they didn’t have a choice in.

The twins were the worst. Every weekend she had to drag them from some party they snuck out to attend. The older they got, the harder they were to control. On most nights, Isabella and Mattie were piled in her full size bed with her, making sleep a rare delicacy. Ariel was the little momma of the bunch, being mature way beyond her years. She had stepped in when their mother was out at the bars or working two jobs, never complaining. Her grade point average was the best in the school, and Rose knew it was her ticket out. Someday, Ariel would have a real life with a real career and get the hell away from this life—hopefully they all would.

At five o’clock, Rose dragged herself back into the break room and hung her apron before clocking out. It had been a long ass day, and her feet were killing her. “You headed home, Rosie?” Gerald, the old cook hollered at her. He was a sixty-five-year-old black man who could cook anything and everything. He also had taken it upon himself to look after Rose, filling in the fatherly roll when her dad split on them. She walked around the corner to the kitchen and gave him a hug.

“Yeah, I gotta run home and get cleaned up for a job interview tonight.”

“Girl, you are dead on your feet. What you gettin’ another job for?” he drawled in a thick Louisianan accent.

“Bills. Food. Kids. There’s never enough. Hell, I don’t know if two jobs will even help. You need to hurry up and win the lotto, Gerald. Move us far away from this place.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek and smiled, hoping to ease his worry.

“Someday, sugar. You’re too sweet and purdy to stay stuck in a place like this. Be careful gettin’ home now, ya hear?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rose grabbed her purse and keys off the hook and hustled out the door.

Chapter Two

Rose checked herself one last time in her rearview mirror, dabbing on a coat of lipstick before she headed into Devil’s Den. She wasn’t big on cosmetics, but had layered it on thick, complete with smoky eyes and red lipstick. Instead of the average girl next door that normally stared back at her, there was a hot woman she didn’t recognize. She felt sexy and just the boost she needed to follow through and not hightail it back to the safety of her house. The parking lot was packed, making her park all the way out on the back forty on the grass. There were so many bikes it put Sturgis to shame. Row after row of pure American muscle filled most of the area, leaving the last few rows for cars and trucks. When she stepped out of the car, her heels sunk in the mud making walking almost impossible. By the time she hit pavement, her calves were burning and she was pretty sure there were blisters swelling up on her heels.

Great
.

The roar of the crowd echoed out around her, amped up in bloodlust ready for the fights. The sounds clouded with the thick humidity making it hard to breathe. Rose sucked a gulp of the pollutant deep in her lungs to steady her nerves. She reached down and smoothed her clothing, thinking twice about her wardrobe choice, growing more and more apprehensive by the second. The little black leather mini skirt paired with black stilettos made her legs appear longer and leaner. She had chosen a pink tank top that dipped low in the front to accent her large chest and give an ample amount of cleavage without coming off too slutty. Standing there ready to face what waited ahead, she felt naked. Just as her nerves got the better of her and she was about to bolt, the door swung open. Rose looked up, staring at a towering Tonto.

Tonto looked down at the little brunette, doing a double take at what he saw. Not much rattled him. He was surrounded by willing and ready snatch every day, and yet this little vanilla cupcake sucked his attention better than Red sucked cock, which said a lot considering the little cunt could suck a golf ball through a water hose while being double fucked in the ass, and without dribbling a single drop. The innocent little mouse was decked out looking good enough to eat. “You’re early. I’m surprised you showed.” His eyes roamed over her, taking in every hot little curve and dip. His height gave him a perfect view down her cleavage, making his balls draw up painfully tight.
Fuck me. Where has this little sexy bitch been hiding?
As his eyes finally made their way down to her legs, it took a conscious amount of restraint to keep from pinning her up against the wall and shoving the little skirt up her hips. He could almost feel her cunt squeezing around his cock.