Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel by Jamie Schmidt (e book reader free .txt) 📕

into the area where my three best exotic dancers had just entered.

I needed to get this fight over quickly before the Aussies drank me into bankruptcy. Wading into the brawl, I separated the frat boys from the other patrons. When they swung at me, I swung back. They went down regretting their actions, nursing a swollen jaw or trying not to puke from a well-placed gut or kidney punch. Luckily, after a few more of the frat boys were shown the error of their ways and the door, the rest went willingly. Aside from a couple of scratches and a few bruises, my bouncers came out of the fight all right. As they drifted back to their stations, I saw a bunch of patrons leave. Fighting wasn’t good for business, but sometimes I didn’t get the choice. Most days I felt like Billy the Kid. But instead of gunslingers coming to test their skills against me, I got college kids on vacation throwing hands.

I was proud of my reputation as an ass kicker. The tabloids named me a “celebrity bouncer” when I was working the club scene in Europe in my twenties. I had thought it was ridiculous, but one of the club owners told me that reputation was everything. If he advertised that Miles Carvello was head of security, the troublemakers usually stayed home—or more likely, found another club to act up in.

The stage show tonight had stopped when the frat assholes started chucking bottles at each other. I walked into the dressing room to check on the girls. I used to knock first, but the dancers kept laughing at me. So now, I just walked right in.

“You guys all right?”

“Fuck,” Ginny said, hiding the packets of pills behind her back.

I locked eyes with her buyer, one of the frat boys who was back here hooking up with drugs rather than brawling. “Get out.”

He must have already been high because I saw the moment he decided to try me. I went up on my toes to pivot out of the way and I planned to smash him in the mouth with an elbow.

“No,” Ginny said, stepping in front of the swing.

Cursing, I yanked her back and we crashed into the vanity table in front of the mirror. The kid pulled a knife, eyes wild. “Give me the pills. And your wallet.”

Shoving Ginny behind me so she wouldn’t get in my way again, I charged the little bastard. He swung his arm back to swipe at me, but I outweighed him by a good hundred pounds. I tackled him into the ground. He hit his head hard on the shag carpet and the knife went flying. Dragging him up by the hair, I marched him to the back door and threw him down the cement steps to the alley. He made a satisfying crash when he hit the garbage bags.

I toggled on the two-way earpiece I wore. “The frat is banned for tonight. No one wearing their letters is allowed in.”

“You got it, boss,” my head bouncer said. Highway was a former marine and looked like a meaner version of Clint Eastwood in his day.

The back door locked behind me as I returned to the dressing room. Ginny was sitting on a stool, posing seductively. Yeah, she was in deep shit and she knew it. She was a busty redhead who knew how to work a room. She had regulars, whom I’d assumed kept coming back to Dalton’s to watch her work the pole to David Guetta. Now I had to wonder if that was really the draw.

“Where’s everyone?” I asked. There should have been four other dancers back here.

“Mingling.”

“Did they know you were selling?”

“Miles,” Ginny said, standing up. She attempted to put her arms around my neck, but I blocked her, maybe a little harder than I had to, but I was pissed. I had very strict rules.

No sex in the VIP room.

No selling drugs.

Come to work sober.

Don’t steal.

Come to me if there’s a problem.

Ginny rubbed her arms and tried giving me a sultry pout. “It’s only some Zannies and Kickers.”

“Get your shit and get the fuck out.”

“You’re firing me?” Her voice rose in disbelief.

“Leave the pills.”

“You can’t do that,” she said.

“Leave them or I call the cops.”

“You bastard,” she snarled. “You’re going to keep them for yourself.”

I shrugged. “I’ll tell you what. If you tell me who your supplier is, I’ll let you keep the pills.”

“You don’t want to do this.” Ginny tried one last seduction, looking at me under long thick lashes. “I’ll be good. I won’t do it again. I promise.” She slinked closer to me, pouting her crimson lips again. “I’ll do anything for a second chance.” Smiling, she sank down to her knees with a practiced ease.

“Who gave you the drugs to sell out of my club?”

Ginny scowled and rocked back on her heels. “Are you kidding me? Who cares? I’ll cut you in if you want.”

“The name or get the fuck out of my club.”

“Go to hell.” She stood up. Stormed over to the closet and grabbed her trench coat. Wrapping it around herself, Ginny glared. “You just want to corner the market. You think you’re the only game in town? You’re nothing. This bar is nothing.” She pulled out a drawer full of bells and flimsy things and stuffed the contents into her coat pockets.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out,” I said.

“You’re going to regret this. Biggest mistake of your life.”

“It’s not even in the top ten.” And it wasn’t.

She paused in the doorway. “I really liked you. You were a cool boss, until you weren’t. Just remember, you brought this on yourself.” Tossing her hair, Ginny flounced out with all the drama of a pissed-off stripper. And she hadn’t given up her supplier.

Scooping up the several baggies of pills, I walked through the club to my office in the back. I was going to stow the drugs in my safe until the next time