The upscale nightclub is going off. It's a thirsty Thursday at Penthouse and a line wraps around the building with the thump-thump of bass reverberating through the masonry. I'm checking IDs and opening velvet ropes for scantily clad women in sparkling dresses and perfectly quaffed men in tailored outfits. I hate it here. So many pretentious snobs flashing money as if that'll get them in faster. They're barking up the wrong tree if they think I give a fuck.

But then I see that gorgeous set of thick hair poking out from the crowd. Mindy is standing on tiptoes, trying to glimpse over the sea of heads, gauging how long it'll take to make it inside. Lucky for her, I'm the doorman.

Our eyes meet, so I wave her forward. Heads turn her way as she latches onto her friend's arm and they begin weaving past everyone. She's stunning tonight in a gold strapless dress hugging her curves like a gift I want to unwrap—tug on the ribbon with my teeth. And those open-toe stilettos lacing up her gorgeous calf muscles make me want to bite my knuckles.

"You came." I smile.

"This is Nadia." She motions to her friend who is sexy in a cute way. The kind of girl whose nose you want to boop because she's too adorable for her own good. She's curvier than Mindy. Thick. And wearing a little cobalt blue dress that flares at the hips, showing off some thigh.

"Have fun in there."

The velvet rope parts and they step inside the club, with Mindy glancing over her shoulder before disappearing into the darkness.

I want her.

So damn bad.

But I'm terrible for her.

An hour later, I'm chomping at the bit for a break, so I signal the other doorman and wander into the swanky club. I run my fingers down the glossy black corridor walls which spills into the coat check area where dim chandeliers cast a faint glow across the shiny black tiles. People are standing around mingling and some give me a head nod, while others dap my knuckles. They think they know me because they see me every week, but they know fuck-all.

The black tiles end at a staircase cascading into the bowels of this place and fog floats from the dance floor towards the mirrored chandeliers scattered across the ceiling like disco balls. I search for Mindy through the sea of flashy outfits as I descend and spot that golden dress of hers by the bar. It's funny how quickly a smile spreads over my face but I freeze as I reach the last step.

Mindy isn't smiling.

And some asshole has her by the arm.

Shoving through a crowd of grinding bodies is worse than surfing through a mosh pit. I don't even care that I'm a little rough and when people see the security badge dangling from my neck, their scowls drop. It helps that I'm tall and have a physique that spells, do not fuck with me.

The asshole in question starts pulling Mindy through the crowd and when her friend Nadia intervenes, he shoves her hard in the chest. That's when my feet accelerate and within seconds I'm blocking their path and my hand is grabbing a fist-full of his slippery Gucci collar.

"Take your fucking hand off her. NOW." He glares at me, but sees the badge and releases Mindy's arm, so I let go of his shirt. "You're eighty-sixed."

"What?"

"Canceled. Banned," I say through my teeth. "Now get the fuck out."

"Yeah, ok, buddy," he mocks and pulls out his wallet.

"I'm not playing. You're done here!"

"Do you know who I am?" he scoffs, and waves three crisp hundred dollar bills in my face. "Take this and buy yourself a clue."

"I don't give two fucks who you are." I swat the money away. "No one puts their hands on the women in here, so you need to get the fuck out of the club!"

"Such a hero," he sighs. "But I do like the owner of this place, so I'll leave. Except, my wife is coming with me."

What in the actual fuck? My head reels back because this is the piece of shit who's scrambled Mindy's brain? Laughing, I crack my knuckles and grab him by the shirt again. "I don't think so."

This part of the gig is draining. It's all adrenaline while hauling losers out of the club and chucking them onto the street. The ocean of swaying bodies parts as we shuffle towards the back alley exit. His expensive loafers are sliding all over the place like a toddler refusing to leave the toy store, but I'm determined.

And whoever designed this club is a dipshit.

Part of the joy of kicking people out is shaming them in front of everyone. However, dragging them up a flight of stairs is like hauling venison up a cliff. So, the back exit it is.

And Mindy's ex isn't making things easy with all the punches he's trying to land. Nor does it help that Mindy is speed-walking beside me, begging me not to hurt him. At least her friend Nadia has some sense and is telling her that he deserves to have his ass beat. When Jude, the head of security sees me, he clears the path, but the exit always feels miles away, and every time we reach the door, it's like taking a deep breath after choking on food.

We burst through the double doors into the crisp night and I fling Mindy's ex into a pile of black trash bags against the masonry. There's a  clack of heels rushing past me, and Mindy is crouching to make sure he's ok.

I can't take this shit. It's the side of her I don't like.

She can do a million times better and deserves better. Instead, she degrades herself to the sorry sack of flesh hobbling to his feet in red-bottomed loafers. He smooths his garments down in a furious swipe and grabs Mindy's wrist.

"We're leaving."

"Like hell you are!" Nadia shouts and looks to me for help. "Do something."

"I don't think so." Jude steps forward and he happens to have muscles stacked on top of muscles. "I don't know what's going on here, but there's no way you're leaving with her. Not on my watch."

"This is none of your business. It's between me and my wife," he growls, tugging her wrist to leave.

"Ex-wife," Nadia and I blurt.

"You know this asshole?" Jude looks at me.

"Nope, but I know Mindy and I know there's no way he's leaving with her." I wedge myself between them, forcing his hand to abandon her wrist. The man is short in comparison. Probably around 5'9 and has to look up when I speak. "If I ever see you touch her again, you're gonna wish we never met. Now get the fuck out of my sight and stay the fuck away from her. Got it?"

"You think you've won?" He straightens his back, as if it'll make him taller, but then he mutters something to Mindy in their language. Her eyes widen and drift towards me causing him to smirk. "I'll see you around."

The man takes his leave, walking slowly down the alleyway with hands in his pockets, whistling. Something in the atmosphere tells me this isn't over.

"What did he say to you?"

"I'm so sorry." Mindy's eyes water.

"For what? What did he say?"

She shakes her head. "You should have let us go."

"Are you kidding me?" My brows fly to my hairline.

"You've insulted him."

"I don't give a fuck! That guy is an asshole and shouldn't put his hands on you."

Nadia takes Mindy by the elbow and looks at me. "Richie is connected to some bad people. He'll be gunning for you now."

"Mindy..." I look at her. "What did he say to you?"

"That he'll slit your throat if you come around me again."

"Like hell he will!"

"What did you say his name is?" Jude asks. "Because I swear he looks familiar."

"Richie. Richie Reddy," Mindy replies, wiping her eyes.

"Oh... So that's Richie Reddy. Shit." He pats my shoulder. "Good luck, my dude."

"Why? Who is he?"

"He runs with the Bay Area Hellions but isn't a biker." His eyes flick from Mindy to me. "He um... He's in the heroin trade."

"He's a junkie?"

"No. But he's damn wealthy and one of the top suppliers in the Bay Area. Aka, untouchable. So... Good luck, man."

Standing there in the chilly alleyway as they disperse, I ask myself, do I need to worry? Nothing scares me, but no one is going to threaten my life and expect me to lie down.

It's time to problem solve before this becomes an issue.