Mafia's Ex Wife

Chapter Eleven

I want to laugh, but I shouldn't. Not when Marshall spends thousands of dollars in my club every week. Not when he made one of my girls feel uncomfortable. Not when I have to make an example out of them both.

The floors creak as I step forward. I'll deal with him in due time, but I want to hear what she's got to say first.

Bending down, I crouch in front of her. Her glare is so sharp that it could slice diamonds, her anger misdirected toward me. "He tried to touch you?"

At first, she doesn't answer, but then she nods, maybe sensing that I'm not here to hurt her. "He stuck his hands in my bra."

Marshall knows better. The girls can do what they want on their own time, but inside my club, we've got a strict look-don't-touch policy. It doesn't matter how much you pay; you keep your hands off. We deal with it occasionally, but I've never had one go and got one of the clients like this one. Looks like she's got one hell of a right hook.

I stand, rubbing my jaw as I contemplate how to handle this. After excusing Nancy, I turn my attention back to Marshall as his panic sets in.

"Is that what happened, Marshall? You put your hands on my dancer?"

Marshall rolls his eyes. "Look, I paid a lot of money for some time with her tonight, Jax. The least she could do was..."

"To see her dance. You paid a lot of money to see her dance. And you know how things work around here... but that's why you did it, wasn't it? You recognized she was new and she might now know the no touch policies, so you thought you might take advantage of that?"

"The wasn't how it..."

Without letting him finish, I rear my fist back, slamming it against his jaw.

My dancer gasps, turning her head away so she doesn't have to watch. I consider having Andre take her out, but I want her to see this.

When Marshall tries to get up, but Andre and another one of my guys pin him in place. Punch after punch I reign down on him, blood splattering in all directions. I reach for the tire iron, landing a few blows to his ribs that he'll feel for months. Marshall groans as his body flops around, and after a solid jab to the temple, he's knocked out cold. His body slumps to the floor and I wipe the remnants of his blood off of my face.

"Take him out back and get someone in here to clean it up."

One of the other men nods, throwing Marshall over his shoulder and disappearing down the hall.

I catch my breath before turning to the girl. She's nervous, covering her face, and after the brutal display I just put on, I don't blame her. She's must too beautiful and delicate for a place like this, and I wonder how the hell she stumbled into my club. I take hold of her chin, angling it up so I can get a good look at her face.

Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe it. She's fucking gorgeous. Long dark lashes and eyes as dark as my morning coffee. Luscious curls tucked behind her ears and a body as sweeter than sin. She's feisty and even with a hint of fear in her, she doesn't back away. I like that confidence.

"You know who I am, don't you?"

She nods carefully.

"What's your name?" I ask. "Your real one. Not the stage name Nancy gave you."

"Elisabeth." Her voice is barely above a whisper.

My eyes fall on the red and purple bruises forming on her cheekbone, just under the left eye. I sweep my thumb gently across the tender skin and she winces. "Did Marshall do this to you, too?"

"No," she shakes her head. "Your bouncer did when he saw what I did to him."

My stomach drops. My men did this? I glance up at Andre, who is already a step ahead of me, charging out of the room to find the men who were just in here. They'll have to answer for it, too.

"I'm sorry. If I had any idea that my men treated you, or any woman, that way, they never would have been hired here."

She bites her lip, breath shaky. "Is he dead? The guy that..."

"He'll live. But he'll never be welcome back here or any club within a thousand miles of this place ever again. I can promise you that."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did." I don't even entertain her words. "As long as you work here, you're mine. And I protect what's mine at all costs. No questions asked."

I glance down at her knuckles, already swollen and red themselves. Taking her hand in mind, I inspect them. "They aren't broken, but they'll hurt for a while. Ice them when you get home tonight and try to keep them moving so they don't lock up."

She nods as I help her up off the floor.

"Nancy will help you fix your make-up and cover those bruises, and then you get your ass back out on that stage."

My direction stuns her. "You want me to..."

"I just lost one of my best clients because of you. Gotta make the money up somehow." I shrug. "And as impressive as your fighting skills are, call me next time." I hold her hand to my lips, sweeping a kiss across her battered knuckles. "Injuries deter my clientele."

Elisabeth jerks her hand away, a hardness washing over her. She doesn't like my callousness as much as I don't like giving it to her, but I know myself. A little of animosity between us isn't the worst thing. A girl like her could get me into serious trouble.

I leave her to compose herself and head down the hallway to find Andre, my fingers still wrapped tightly around the tire iron. The last part of the problem I have to take care of is my own guy. Violence against women isn't tolerated around here in any capacity, and my staff isn't exempt from that.

Andre has the guy in one of our back rooms, and without even a word, I walk in and smash the tire iron across his hand.

"Ahhh!" He belts in agony.

I grab him by the collar and throw him to the floor, rage flowing through my body. "Touch one of the dancers like that again and the next time, your fingers won't just be smashed—they'll be cut off and stuffed down your throat. Are we clear?"

He nods, cowering away.

The tire iron clamors to the ground and Andre follows me out of the room and back out into the hallway. Right as we get out to the main room, Elisabeth is being announced. As she prances around in that tiny thong, I can't tear my eyes away and neither can anyone else. She commands the attention of every person in the club, everyone nearly falling to her feet.

Her kind of beauty is poisonous in a place like this.

"That one is going to be a problem, isn't she?" Andre chuckles.

Elisabeth bends at the edge of the stage right in front of us, flipping that wild, chocolate hair around as her body twists. Her perfect tits nearly spill out of her lacy lingerie and when she sees me watching, she gives me a tempting wink.

"Oh yeah. A huge fucking problem."