“It doesn’t matter. What matters is it’s mine now. It’s ours. And with it we can have a new life.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?”
“Because you deserve to be free. We all do.”
I grabbed my jacket and helmet and headed to the door. “Open an untraceable account and move the money, then pack up whatever you can. I'll pick you up in two hours. You won't be back, so pack only what you need."
"This is crazy!"
"Crazier than working for the Turkish mob?"
"Well, n-not exactly."
"You want to survive this?"
"Yes."
"Then call your brother and let him know someone is coming for him. I’ll let you know who as soon as I can."
I left Elizabeth’s place and called one other person. The only one who had cared enough about me to try and save me from Alan's grasp, right before I fell into the hands of the Turks. I wasn't sure if she'd help me, but it was worth a try.
Chapter 5
Duchess
The last I heard was that Rhea Barton had been managing the famous Rouge Roulette, a high-end strip club located in Downtown Los Angeles. Roulette was the name given to her by her Uncle Derek Masterson, one of the founding members of the Hellbound Lovers MC. Her father was Nick Barton, President of the HLMC. Let’s just say, my girl was well-connected.
The name fit her. Knowing Rhea was like playing Russian Roulette. You just never knew when she'd go off. She'd been my best friend all through college. We'd been brought together by fate, and the sound of a revving V-Twin engine turned us both the fuck on. She was a business major while I majored in finance, which meant we had several classes together. When she heard I was brought up in the Royal Bastards MC, she was all about knowing every detail of my life. We had that in common: the motorcycle club life, and the dream of creating our own club one day. It wasn't a far-fetched dream, just one that never came to be when we parted ways.
We had been inseparable until I met Alan two years ago. Things went sour then, and I hadn't heard from her since. Icould only pray Rhea wouldn't reject me. I couldn't do what I had planned, without her. It was a reach. But maybe, just maybe, I could make her dreams come true. Cheesy right, but fuck did I hope it worked.
As I entered the bar area I smiled. The Rouge Roulette was just how I imagined it. An old Russian restaurant turned into a strip club. Staggered stages were placed along the front of the bar while more private stages rose above the floor connected to private rooms along a staircase.
The place smelled of money and booze as dollar bills floated onto the stage while a pretty little thing swirled around on the pole showing her ass to every seedy businessman who wanted a taste. I smirked, knowing they'd need to pay high dime for one of these girls to spread their legs for them, let alone fuck them.
"Can I get you anything, Sweetheart?" The young bartender with the light green eyes winked at me and I smiled at him seductively.
"Actually," I leaned in, whispering, as if telling him a secret. "You wouldn't happen to know where Rhea Barton is, would you?"
He pointed to the top of the stairwell. “You’re welcome to go on up but she’s not seeing anyone today.”
“We’ll see about that,” I whispered, as I made my way up the winding staircase. At the top of the steps stood two bodyguards. They barely looked at me as I approached, but I could feel them stiffen on either side of me. Testing their limits, I reached for the door and one of them reached out to me, placing his hand around my wrist. They were quick to react which made me think they’d be perfect for what I had in mind.
“Can we help you, ma’am?”
Except for that. I was just called ma’am by a man old enough to be my father. I sighed in frustration. How I hated that word. “Can you please tell Rhea that an old friend is here to see her?”
“What old friend?” The other man leaned in, finally assessing me.
“Name’s Stephanie Winters.”
The door flew open and on the other side of it stood a beautiful bombshell of a woman. She’d gotten curvier since the last time I saw her, and she’d perfected the art of makeup, but she was still my best friend.
“Hands off her,” she stated to the guy at my right before those big hazel eyes stared right back at me.
I smiled awkwardly as I stood there in my leather jacket and ripped jeans. Not much different than when she’d left me. Suddenly, she engulfed me in a big bear hug.
In a whisper only I could make out she said, “Where the hell have you been?”
