“And the endgame?” Sting asked.
“Last leg is by air,” Nova said. “Private flight, small-town airstrip. From there, they land in a new state and go dark. New name, new life.”
Silence settled in again, heavy but electric.
“What about the husband?” Domino asked, her voice low.
“He doesn’t know she’s running,” Diamond said. “But if he catches wind? You don’t engage unless you have to. We’re not giving him a reason to think his suspicions are warranted.”
“But if it’s between him and her—” Shark started.
“Then you do what you need to do,” Diamond cut in, eyes locked on hers. “And you ride like hell afterward.”
No one questioned it. No one hesitated.
“We’re not just moving her,” Nova added. “We’re giving her a second chance. And we don’t get second chances wrong.”
Shark leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulder. “We’ll get her there.”
Diamond gave one firm nod. “Now, let’s have some damn fun.”
After church wrapped, the tension in the room eased—but the bond between the women only tightened. Both chapters stuck around, shoulders dropping and voices rising as they shifted into something more casual. Orders were placed, laughter broke out, and soon the long meeting table was lined with takeout containers, paper plates, and half-empty pitchers of beer.
The Montreal Chapter’s club girls filtered in and out, balancing trays of wings, fries, and loaded nachos, dropping off fresh pitchers without missing a beat. They knew better than to linger. This wasn’t just a party. This was sisterhood cooling down after business. Still, Diamond couldn’t help but smirk as one of the girls strutted in wearing cutoff shorts and a tank top that had long since given up on covering anything.
“If we had a bar, a pole, and a stage,” Diamond muttered to Nova, who was mid-sip of her beer, “we’d have a damn strip club running in here by now.”
Nova laughed, low and dry. “Give it an hour. Someone’s gonna start dancing on the table.”
“Bet you five bucks it’s Sting.”
They both turned just in time to see Sting toss back a shot someone had handed her and slam the glass down with a grin. The room erupted in cheers.
Diamond leaned back in her chair, content for the moment. Business was handled. Plans were in motion. And for now, for just a little while, they could breathe.
The road would be waiting. But tonight, the Harlots celebrated their own way—loud, loyal, and unapologetically wild.
Wouldn’t be the last time a church hall was violated in a clubhouse.
Chapter Thirteen
The party wasin full swing when Diamond and the girls stepped out of the meeting room. The hallway buzzed with bass-heavy music and the low roar of a good time gone wild. As she moved farther into the heart of the chaos, Diamond took in the scene like a queen surveying her court.
Everywhere she looked, the rally was living up to its reputation—food, fun, and fornication in every corner. Club girls worked the poles with practiced grace, sweat-slick bodies catching the strobe lights as they spun. Others danced in elevated cages, boots stomping to the rhythm of the beat. The pool tables were packed with rough bets and louder cheers, and the bar was shoulder-to-shoulder, lined with partygoers tossing back shots like water.
And, of course, there were the couples—some barely waiting to find a dark corner before giving into the high of the night. It was messy, hot, and loud. But this was a club rally. What was one without a little sex and spectacle?
With business done, Diamond’s focus shifted to the next thing on her list—Sayer.He owed her a drink, and she hadn’t had time to hunt him down since they rolled in.
She snagged the arm of one of the club girls weaving past, leaning in. “Where’s Sayer?”
The girl shrugged, clearly enjoying the party too much to care. Diamond let her go and pushed deeper into the crowd, weaving her way past bodies and laughter and smoke. She paused for every handshake, every fist bump, every stranger or familiar face that stopped to introduce themselves. She didn’t rush—respect had to be given and returned—but she kept her sights on the back of the room.
And then. A hand grabbed hers, firm and fast. She spun around, ready to throw a punch, but stopped when she saw who it was. Sayer. A grin pulled across her lips without permission.
He leaned in close, his mouth near her ear to be heard over the music. “How about a drink?”
She almost shouted back, “That sounds good.” And it did. Hell, she didn’t need another, but it was a party, and they were staying the night. Might as well enjoy it.
