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Nomad Kind of Love

By:Nicole Snow

tress pouch right at his dirty face.

But I knew my place. I could do what he said, or suffer something a whole lot worse.

Vulture was a greedy, despicable man, but he always backed his word with violence. There were no bluffs.

I moved to the small empty space on the table first, mopping up stray sauce and fries.

When I was done, I pulled away. Vulture grabbed my arm. His fingers dug into my flesh with the same cruel intensity he'd used when they killed Dad and hauled my sister and I here.

“I'm not just talking about this table. You're a mess too, bitch. Take off your fucking clothes and clean this shit up. My friends want to see you naked. It'll be good practice before we send you to work at the new pole dancing place next week.” His eyes narrowed when he saw my resistance bristling. “Be glad I'm content to give them a show in just your panties – long as you cooperate, darlin'.”

Bitter fire boiled in my veins. I burned to scream no, trembled with the need to blow venom in his face. I wanted to bite his fucking nose off and spit it on the table for his friends and brothers to see.

How about that for a show?

I walked away from the table and forced my feet to stop before they got into the hall. I turned, slowly wiggling off my dress, and then undoing my top.

The men shouted and hollered like I was another stripper, another whore who came on the weekends to fuck their nasty brains out. I crawled between their legs, sweeping up the stray food. Up until that moment, I didn't think it could get any worse.

What a fucking idiot I was. Worse wasn't even half of it when greasy fingers grazed my panties, pinching my ass while I cleaned.

The Polish man was the worst.

His breath grew heavy, rugged, full of raging need when he reached between my legs. The sick fuck slipped his finger between my folds once before I jerked away, diving for a rib rolled against Ursa's boot.

“What is it, baby-baby? This little girl is dry as desert! You want I should help, Vulture?”

That's it. You lay your filthy hand on me and I'll bite it. I'll rip away your finger or anything else that comes near my body.

Don't. You. Fucking. Do. It.

“No,” Vulture said slowly. “She's doing everything I promised. One thing you'll find about working with this MC is I'm a man of my word. You can look, Jaro, but you don't get to touch her. Go ahead, June bug. Get this shit out of here and go take a hot shower. You've earned it.”

I stood, gathering up the last of the fallen food. I blinked in surprise.

Vulture grinned and flashed a wink. His wicked trademark. The Polish man pouted next to him.

I know what Vulture wanted: I was supposed to love him for this, fall to my feet in gratitude for holding back a man who'd love to screw me blind.

Not likely, I thought. I won't thank you for this. Not for anything.

I knew the bastard wanted me. Hell, both of us. The crude comments he made about twin sisters were manly jokes around his brothers, but they were also absolute truth.

For some reason I couldn't figure out, he wanted to win me and Clara over, as if we were special prizes. He wanted us as willing, wet, and wild as the groupie whores who came through the clubhouse every weekend, slobbering all over any man with a few patches on his leather jacket.

Quietly fuming, I carried the mess away to the kitchen. A dozen eyes followed my barely clad ass the whole time, making me flush beet red.

Sickness and shame curdled my stomach.

They were still drinking and laughing, carrying on like nothing happened, after I disappeared from view.

Then it hit me.

Why the hell couldn't I see it before? Every night like this was an opportunity, and this one was shaping up to be no different. The club always drank, gorged, and fucked itself into a stupor, unable to move a muscle until morning.

Until morning...I smiled to myself. During the bewitching hours between two and seven a.m., anything might happen.


Peters promised to cook up more food and serve it to them by himself. He looked at me sadly when he saw the grease and sauce all over me.

“Rest up, June. I've got the rest of this tonight.” He was a kind man, even if he worked for brutal men willingly.

Just make it to the shower like Vulture says. Wait a few hours. When they're passed out and dead to the world, that's when I'll take Clara.

That's when we'll leave this place like we should've done months ago.

The longest night of my life had officially started.

“Clara, come on. We have to go.” I shook my sister three times before she groaned and rolled in her bed.

She blinked, eyes big and hazy from the crap she'd smoked earlier. “Huh? Go where? I just wanna go back to bed, June. You...you woke me from a dead sleep.”

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I grabbed her arms and pulled her up. I didn't like to hurt her – not when the men had plenty of pain and humiliation for us – but this was an exception.

I slapped her. Hard.

“Ow! What the hell, sis?” Clara held her hot cheek and began to cry.

Damn it, I didn't have time for this.

It was a little past three. Right now, everybody in the club was out, dozing in deep comas.

“We're going to walk right past these fuckers while they're sleeping and go out the front door. They're all asleep. Checked and double checked. We've been here too long, sis...we're losing our will to fight.”

Clara rolled her eyes. I seized her shoulders and shook her harder.

“Don't do that! You've got to remember why we're here. Remember the way they killed Dad and probably killed Mom too. Remember.”

It wasn't just probably, but I didn't have the heart to tell her I overheard Mom had been found dead weeks ago. Drug overdose.

It didn't surprise me. By now, I was so fucking numb, the news about my mother was just one more insult, one more hazy scene in our waking nightmare.

I shook her. Clara's eyes rolled and she started to weep.

“Why you bringin