Shoot Me

JT

Sawyer along with her uncles, which still seems weird to me, are still in the club even when I was done with my dances for the night. I am exhausted. My duties as a boss could wait until the morning, but my private shower in my office was calling my name.  

I didn’t make it to my office because I saw a man pinning Sawyer up against the wall with her uncles nowhere to be found.

I mentally growled, or maybe it was out loud because one of my serving girls jumped out of her skin as I walked by. She dumped the drinks she had on the floor, breaking several glasses.

“I’m sorry about that, Shea. Let me help you clean up,” I tell her, squatting down to pick up the glass. “Go get the broom and mop. I got the glass.”

“But, boss…” she starts to protest, but I cut her off with a disapproving glare. She gulps and then rushes away.

The good thing about this is that Sawyer, the