His lips turned up into an evil grin. “You must be the new lackey I’ve heard about. Bucky, is it?”

Lucky didn’t answer.

“You think you’re a badass, huh?” Slade chuckled. “Unfortunately for you, that kinda attitude can get you killed around here.”

“Bring it on, asswipe.” Lucky’s gaze was hard and his jaw clenched.

The words must have been too much for Slade because his eyes glazed over and he lunged for Lucky. The uproar brought Baby Jade out of the trance like state she had been in and she jumped between the two men.

“Stop!” she yelled. She surveyed the room hoping for some kind of backup. Mickey came barreling out of his office. Jewella and Barbie were both doubled over from laughter. Coral was giving a half-ass performance because the crowd had lost interest, something that happened often when Slade walked into the room. Lolli stood off to the side, doe-eyed. Her already pale face was extra ashen and wet from the recent tears.

“Please, stop. Both of you.” Baby tried to break up the clusterfuck before it got out of hand.

Mickey wasn’t quick to jump in since Slade wasn’t a customer. He was more like Mickey’s lifeline. “What’s going on here? The new guy causing a problem?”

Lucky probably would have knocked Mickey on his ass, but Baby knew he wasn’t going to be the one to break the staring contest. A few seconds passed before Slade let out a small snicker and slapped Lucky on the shoulder. “Naw, man. We’re all good here. Isn’t that right, podna?”

Lucky’s gritted his teeth.

Mickey stepped between both men. Facing Lucky, he forced him to take a step backward. Baby stepped toward him and snaked her arm through his. The brazen move shut Jewella up. As soon as she quit laughing, Barbie did too, like a good little mockingbird. Mickey’s eyes narrowed and he turned away, clearly pissed at her gesture.

Lucky’s body was stiff, and his knuckles were stark white from his clenched fists. The veins in his arms strained against his skin. She squeezed his arm tighter, tugging it toward her chest. He eased a little, but still didn’t move.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. All right, Baby get your ass back to work. You’re on next.” Mickey stepped to the side. “We good here? You need anything, man?” he asked Slade, turning his back to Lucky.

Slade ran his hand over his own chest, his top lipped curled up as if he smelled something foul. “Hmm, I was getting ready to head out, but I think I’ll stay for the show. Get me my bottle.” He walked away and sent one of his goons to fetch a spare chair, which he used to belly up to the center of the catwalk—directly in front of the pole.

The bartender slid a bottle of Maker’s Mark across the countertop to Barbie. She took that as her cue to flaunt herself over to Slade, click-clacking her fluorescent heels the whole way. She perched herself on the arm of his velvet chair. Her teased hair made her easy to spot. Baby watched her wrap her suntanned hands around the bottle, her ridiculously long, fire-red nails trailing down Slade’s back.

Mickey had slithered his way over to Jewella, and they were groping each other, tongue, and all. It was scary to think of the things that turned those two on. Lolli mingled with a group of tables by the jukebox, leaving Baby and Lucky alone. He quickly snatched his arm from hers and stepped aside.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, through a strained whisper.

Baby knew what he was asking. Why did she freeze like that? How did Slade still hold any kind of power of her? She had no words to piece together an explanation. She looked up into Lucky’s eyes, dark and angry, and then she glanced over to Slade. The thought of dancing for him while feeling this vulnerable made the measly contents of her stomach slosh around.

She felt weak and confined as if the walls were closing in. There was no way she could tell Lucky about her addiction to both Slade and his idea of a good time. Baby lowered her head and stared at the hunter-green nail polish on her toes, none of that neon shit like some of the other girls.

Baby’s heart jumped into her throat. She knew Mickey would have her head, but she couldn’t take it anymore and bolted right out the front door, leather clad and alone.

Chapter Twelve

Lucky

What the fuck happened?

Lucky couldn’t wrap his brain around this chick. What did that son of a bitch have over her? It had to be something big to make her buckle like that.

No matter how pissed off he was, he couldn’t let her wander the streets in nothing but a few straps of leather. She didn’t have a bag or clothes with her.

As Lucky was getting ready to head out the door, Mickey was in his face.

“Where the hell did she go?” he bellowed. Lucky was close to punching him square in the face. He was tired of the blowhard, and his stale breath was enough to make a dead man squirm.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Lucky replied, no longer trying to hide his irritation.

“Don’t give me that shit. I saw you together. All arm in arm and shit. You two are up to something.”

“Up to something? You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Lucky stepped toward the weasel of a man, close to unleashing the pent-up rage that was threatening to bubble over. His voice lowered to a dangerous level. “You know as well as I do that that no-nuts, steroid-using cocksucker was the cause of this shit.” He pointed in Slade’s direction.

Mickey quickly blocked Lucky’s view of Slade. “Son, you do NOT want to be pissing off Slade Chatelain.”

“I’m not scared of him or any of his little flying monkeys.”

Mickey leaned in further. The lines around his eyes softened, but only a little. “I’m telling you that you would be wise to change that attitude. Everyone is scared of Slade, and for good reason.”

Lucky snorted and rolled his taut shoulders back, trying to loosen them up. “And I’m not everyone if you haven’t noticed.”

Mickey sighed and took a step back. Lucky could only assume the move was a peace offering. “Let me guess. You’re gonna run after her?”

“Did you see how she took off? She’s on the street right now dressed in nothing but a few pieces of floss!”

“And if I say you can’t go?” Mickey asked.

Lucky didn’t blink. He stared at the heavyset man. He had already made up his mind and there was nothing porky was going to do to change it.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m sure her bag’s downstairs. Grab it before you go.”

Lucky took off toward the basement stairs.

“Make sure she knows she’s on tomorrow night and that bitch owes me hours!” Mickey called after him.

When he got downstairs, Lucky noticed one of the girls at her dressing table. It was Coral. She was nice enough, but he decided not nice enough to trust.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and mouth gaping.

“Baby Jade’s stuff?” he asked. She didn’t say anything. She pointed toward a small, plain table. It wasn’t decorated like the other tables. No pictures or keepsakes, there were a couple of newspaper clippings and a Saints schedule from last season.

He didn’t feel right rummaging through her belongings, but he wanted to make sure Baby had everything she needed. He grabbed her tote bag and threw her neatly folded street clothes on top.

“Thanks,” he said before bounding back up the stairs two at a time, not caring if she responded.

Lucky stepped through the door and immediately felt the scrutiny of Slade burning a hole through his head. He slid through the crowd, holding his stare. He would never give that asshole the satisfaction of thinking he got the best of him. In fact, Lucky couldn’t care less what Slade thought about him. He was concerned about Baby Jade. That prick would have to go through him to get to her, and that wasn’t happening anytime soon.