My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I forced myself to meet his gaze. "Like I told you the first two times, we found her out back near the dumpster. She left with a client three days ago andwhen we didn't hear from her the next day, some of the girls went looking for her. They never found her, until tonight. That's all I can give you."
Being a Harlot meant knowing how to dealwith pressure, and part of that was knowing exactly what to say when the cops came sniffing around. We were taught from the beginning, never give more than you have to, never lie unless you're damn sure you can back it up, and never, ever throw a sister under the bus. We played our roles well because our lives depended on it. I gave him just enough truth to keep him from digging deeper. When you ran a club like ours, you learned how to toe the line. Enough truth to keep the heat off. Enough bite to make sure they didn’t push.
By the time they rolled the body out, I couldn’t feel anything anymore.
I waited until the last cruiser pulled away and the red and blue faded into the night before I made my way upstairs. Rhea and the girls needed space. I needed answers.
But first, I needed to make a call I’d been avoiding for the last twenty-four hours.
The club was empty. Rhea had shut it down for the night. She felt it disrespectful to have the girls work with what had just happened. I entered the office. the door clicking quietly behind me. I sank into the leather chair behind the desk and pulled out my burner phone.
My thumb hovered over the number for longer than I’d ever admit.
I hit dial.
The call barely rang once.
"Did you make a decision?" Jameson’s voice was calm. He'd apparently been waiting for the phone call.
"I think so," I said, forcing the words through lips that didn’t want to move.
"But I do need to make some changes to what we had discussed before."
"Go on." He stated.
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. This was the part that hurt. "We don’t just need affiliation."
The silence stretched between us.
I swallowed hard. "We need protection."
I waited for him to speak. "What happened?"
"One of my girls was found dead tonight. They threw her in the dumpster out back of the Rouge Roulette."
"Did you tell the cops who did it?"
I shook my head. "No. Played dumb."
"Good. We'll deal with them separately."
"We?"
"That's what a partership is."
"I-I can't give you what you wanted. If you take us in, I swear I’ll pull my weight for the Bastards. Whatever’s needed. But in return...you can't have our girls. The Rouge Roulette is ours. But if you help us stand, we help you expand."
There was a pause, followed by muffled voices in the background. He was talking to someone. Whispering numbers.
"Powertrain’s not gonna like this," he muttered. Then louder: "You’re asking for a high price, Duchess."
I sighed and leaned back, the ceiling above me spinning with exhaustion. "I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this clubhouse. All of it. I just ask that you don’t tear it down just because you can."
"I'm not that cruel, Stephanie."
"I won't leave you hanging. You can have our other assets. We've slowly accumulated businesses. Spas, tattoo parlors, garages. If they work for you, you can have them."
The line crackled, and then he said, "I’ll have your back if you have mine."
