"Or better yet," Lucian added from the side, leaning back into the booth. "How much it would cost to pay the bastards off when they did get suspicious."
"Good one," Dante said, laughing.
Gio glared at the wall. "Fine, no strip clubs."
"Thank you, son. I always enjoy these discussions of ours."
Lucian took a quick inventory of the club's floor and the people within view. Easily, he picked out the six men his father mentioned earlier. The well-dressed boys almost looked out of place next to all the big, muscled bikers with their denim and leather. They weren't attracting attention, though.
Probably because these idiots were either too drunk or too high already to really notice.
The girls who were on three of the five stages did little to hold Lucian's interest, but he took note of them for his own personal survey of the place. He didn't mind the tattoos on their bodies, or the leather ensembles they were slowing taking off whilst grinding along the poles. The blank, high look in most of their eyes was of a serious concern.
These were not healthy girls.
At another back corner, half sectioned off by fading red ropes, three men sat with their backs to the rest of the room. Even with the shitty lighting, Lucian easily picked out the glint of metal sticking out of the back of all of the men's jeans.
Guns, likely.
They probably had a few knives stashed, too.
"What are you holding tonight?" Lucian asked Dante.
".22. Nothing fancy, but it'll get the job done from twenty yards and it only gets worse the closer I get. You?"
"What else?"
"His Mark XIX," Gio said, so sure of himself.
"The Eagle? Jesus, why do you always have to bring in the big guns?" Dante asked.
"Because," Antony put in, smirking, " … just the sight of it alone scares people. He likes that."
Lucian's father knew him so well.
Antony sighed. "I'd like to not spill blood tonight, boys. Just make a point."
"Three over in the corner in a roped off section. All are carrying, and blatantly, I might add," Lucian said, filling in the rest for their own benefit. "I take it they are not concerned about police or getting raided. Maybe someone is on their payroll, but that's doubtful, considering they've killed four cops in six months. It could be that coming in here is a last resort for cops. Likely a dangerous thing as it is. The guys were right, most of these patrons are club members. So you can bet your ass they're all carrying something.
"Take a good look around," Lucian continued, giving a slight nod towards the many pool tables and booths. "This place is not meant for public consumption. Tables on their last legs. Rips in all the seats. Half of the light bulbs are blown out and there are even holes in the walls. More than one brawl has gone down here. I would hate to take a black light and see what would come up. This place is a dive. The bartenders serve the bikers first, always. Even if a regular customer was standing at the bar for five minutes already. Not to mention, I've already seen three MC members, if the emblems on the back of their vests are any indication, take to the back with two dancers. No money in hand. And two of which went with one girl, I might add. The strippers are high out of their minds. I'd say this is probably a usual favorite of Will Vetta's, even if it weren't owned by his VP."
"Yet, he isn't here," Antony noted.
"No," Lucian replied, positive of that fact. "Essentially, we are in their zone, and I suggest everyone be aware of that fact now before we go any further. I suspect the customers are likely acquaintances of the club, or trying to get in. There were only two vehicles that weren't motorcycles in the parking lot. Why else would you party at a place like this? It isn't for those women. If something were to happen, they will not be calling the cops, and they won't be helping us. We are severely outnumbered, but only in the numbers."
"Good to see your head is back in place, son."
Lucian offered his father a tight smile. "This is business, Boss. I'm always down for business."
With only that one title, Lucian knew he had effectively closed the lid on the friendly banter between a father and his sons. It was important for the rest to know it now, too. The situation they were in was serious, and once they announced just who they were, the seemingly odd environment would instantly turn a hell of a lot more hostile towards them.
It needed to be made clear who the boss was, and what the other men's roles around him were. It was as much a respect thing as it was a safety thing. There was a headspace all of them needed to be in, and fast.
"No Paulie tonight?" Dante asked Antony.
Paulie Banino was, and always had been ever since their father took on the role of boss, his consigliere. He was the third arm in the best friend trilogy that had once been Antony, Lucian's biological father, and Paulie. They were inseparable until death took one of them away.
The doctor no longer practiced medicine in the public sense. He was a private physician for the Marcello family if something medically was needed on the down low that couldn't be done at a hospital for fear of official involvement. Paulie should have been here, and Lucian knew it. He was just as much important to the business in regards to Antony's position as Dante's was as an underboss.
"Figured it was better at least one of us, the only one with a medical degree, was out of harm's way," Antony said honestly.
The small chat between the men dulled to nothing at all. Lucian took that time to sit back in his booth, allowing Gio's large form to shield him from view as he surveyed the room once more. His brother's body and the shadows of his new position also shielded the server from his sight as she saddled up beside the table.
Out of the corners of his eyes, Lucian did see part of her bare shoulder and the black curls hiding her face, though. It wasn't so much the amount of flesh she was showing as it was the peeks of what looked like a cherry blossom tattoo crawling over her shoulder and dipping down her back where it disappeared from his sight.
"Hello, guys. I'm Jordyn. I'll be serving you tonight, or something close to it. What'll it be?"
The sultry tone of her voice was something Lucian and his body noticed the moment she spoke. It was almost like a mixture of innocence and experience, if that were possible. She didn't sound entirely bored, but she didn't sound like she was in it to win it with her job, either.
Dante looked to his father, his earlier comment about not consuming the drinks being silently said again. Antony must have took note.
"A bottle of Jack, unopened. Four-" Antony stopped up short, his lips tugging down into a frown as he passed a glance towards Gio. The youngest brother certainly didn't need to be drinking tonight. "Make that three glasses. We'll pour."
Leaning forward was the worst mistake Lucian made since waking up that day. He certainly hadn't expected to see her again. At least not in a place like this. She was on his mind all damned week, those eyes of hers, cream-like flesh, and a mouth that just at the sight alone, make his own water.
What'd she call herself? Jordyn, was it?
Merda.
Shit was right-he was in so much of it.
Suddenly, Lucian was not in the zone like he needed to be.
He was so incredibly fucked.
Also, Lucian realized he was right about his first assumption when he thought she had ink under her dress that day at the confessional box. Cherry blossoms started somewhere beneath the lace and leather bottoms she wore and trailed up over her side, before crossing over her left breast which was also covered by nothing but a lace and leather brassiere, and then curved over her shoulder.
There was another tattoo, too, but in the darkness, Lucian couldn't read the scripted words.
Strangely, the immediate rush of possessiveness that flooded his veins surprised him. She was still so beautiful, like crazy. The more skin his gaze crawled over, the tighter his pants became. Lucian caught himself wondering what those blossoms would taste like under his tongue.
Yeah, he was not where he needed to be. This unknown woman knocked him off kilter and she probably didn't even know it. What was wrong with him?
Unfortunately, his father seemed to realize his son's abrupt change in posture and mood. "Lucian?"
At the sound of his name, the girl's-Jordyn, he reminded himself-eyes flashed to meet his in the corner, those dark lashes of hers blinking rapidly like she also didn't believe what she was seeing. Lucian swallowed the thickness building in his throat. Thankfully, Jordyn didn't act like they had ever met or seen one another before. She simply went on doing her own business.
"Unopened bottle of Jack and three glasses. Anything else?" she asked, avoiding Lucian's piercing gaze.
"Yes," Antony said, still watching Lucian closely. "The owner is Ron Daney, correct?"
Jordyn stood a little stiffer, her shoulders squaring. "I beg your pardon?"
"The owner is Ron Daney, Vice President of the Brooklyn chapter of The Sons of Hell," Lucian said gruffly, trying to swallow back the huskiness forming. "We're not ATF or the feds, let's just be clear on that, sweetheart. Ron, he's in tonight, yes?"