Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

his jeans. Quake could commiserate. He was in Amos’s shoes when it came to Magenta.

Or he was until last night when he’d finally gotten to touch her. Had finally gotten to taste her.

He was already hard, just thinking about it.

The hostess smiled broadly and showed them to a table in a quiet corner in the back. Typically, they let the humans have the tables up close and seated shifters farther away, knowing their keen senses would allow them to enjoy the show just as much.

They ordered drinks and watched the dancers. The wolf shifters took turns on the stage, performing, resting, and returning for more. They’d been there close to ninety minutes when some of the Death’s Head MC came in with Phantom in the lead.

They sat two tables over, close enough to easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

Phantom leaned to whisper in his President Atilla’s ear. “I need me a piece,” he growled. “Ain’t had a prime cut since before prison. Save my seat. I’ll be right back.”

Quake sat straighter, his senses on alert, his gut twisting to think Phantom might try to buy Magenta. The reinstated Death’s Head Sergeant-at-Arms wound his way through the crowd until he reached Madam Belle.

Unpleasantries ensued.

He did try to buy Magenta, the motherfucker. Belle told him no. He tried to buy Candy. Was told no again. Same thing with Cinnamon. Belle finally told him his money was no good here, but there was a cathouse down the road.

“Bitch!” he spat. “Whore! Think you’re so goddamn better than us? You should be down on your knees worshipping my cock.”

Madam Belle motioned with her hand and two mountain-men bouncers appeared. “This one’s leaving,” she told them. “His friends can stay if they mind themselves. First wrong word, first wrong move, and they’re out the door too.”

Phantom slid his gaze to where Magenta was waiting in the wings, getting ready to go on. She paled when he made the sign of the jackal, marking her as his. “This isn’t over,” he promised Madam Belle.

Sneering, he shrugged off the bouncers’ hands and stalked toward the entrance door. The rest of the jackals remained.

So much for pack solidarity.

Quake could fucking feel Magenta’s fear. The jackals were notorious for taking what they wanted, and Phantom wanted her. He wouldn’t stop until he got the burgundy-haired beauty.

From Stone’s expression, he wasn’t happy with what he’d seen. “Damn jackals act like they own the country.”

“They’re gonna make trouble for Belle,” Mason grumbled. “My dick doesn’t like the idea of all the girls getting frightened away.”

“You mean, Candy,” Quake corrected him drily.

“We’re hanging here this evening.” Rock scanned the room, his attention hovering on the other bikers. “We can watch for trouble.”

Magenta did her set, swaying her hips to the music and pivoting around her pole. Quake kept getting distracted by the way she moved and those lips that just kept on calling to him. She made eye contact only once. One brief flash of awareness that crackled in the air between them before she looked away. By the time she finished dancing, his cock was as stiff as the pole she’d been using.

Swaying her hips and jiggling her breasts, she worked the crowd with a smile, collecting cash and offering nothing more than a sultry look or a fleeting touch to the paying customers. Quake tracked her path before she vanished through the door to the back, headed either to her dressing room or one of the private rooms above them.

Her room was number 9.

“Candy’s up next,” Mason announced like a kid after a sugar-filled treat.

Attention swinging to the Death’s Head jackals, Quake was in time to hear a text message alert and see their President check his phone. Raising his head, Atilla nodded at his men around the table. In unison, they leaped up from their chairs and attacked the nearest customers, fists flying and tables turning over as the bar fight ensued.

The Dragons responded with a partial shift, hoping the humans here wouldn’t notice how they’d grown.

“Get ‘em,” Stone roared, launching himself up and over the tabletop, sending their glasses smashing to the floor. Fanning out, they each took on a Death’s Head who seemed eager for battle.

Quake found himself pitted against a skinny male with beady eyes. Dodging his punch, he countered with his own, his fist cracking ribs, making the jackal howl with pain. Not quick enough to miss the second blow, Quake took a hit to the jaw. With skin as hard as granite, he broke the guy’s hand.

Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, Quake hauled him across the floor. “Get the fuck out!”

Avoiding the bottles of beer being thrown through the air, he dragged him to the front door and tossed him out on his ass.

A stream of swear words erupted from the fallen jackal but Quake was barely aware of them. His gaze was glued on the bike he recognized as Phantom’s.

What the fuck was it still doing here? After getting kicked out, he should have been long gone. A sense of foreboding crawled up his spine when he remembered Atilla’s text message.

Fuck.

The bar fight had been a decoy.

Phantom was still here.

But where?

Recalling Phantom’s unspoken threat, Quake followed his instincts and went back inside, threading his way through the brawlers and heading for the bordello stairs. The bouncer at the bottom shook his head, refusing to let him pass when his name wasn’t on the list.

Quake hoped like hell he was wrong, but tuning into the upstairs, his supersensitive hearing confirmed that he wasn’t.

“Get out,” Magenta’s voice warned, “or I’ll sic Madam Belle on you. Unless you want a pixie-sized dick, I suggest you do as I say.”

“Bitch.” Phantom’s word was followed by the sound of flesh striking flesh and a feminine whimper of pain.

With no patience for fools, Quake threw the bouncer aside, ripped open the door, and flew up the stairs. Breaking down the door to Room 9, he rushed inside.

Phantom had Magenta pinned to the bed as she clawed at