Ava wiped sweat from her forehead and adjusted her tiny black skirt. The club was packed tonight, music thumping so loud she could feel it in her chest. She needed this job bad. Rent was due, her bank account was crying, and the tips here were supposed to be insane. But from the moment she stepped behind the bar, she felt eyes on her—hungry, dangerous eyes.
Three men sat in the corner booth like they owned the whole damn place. Everyone whispered about them. The Devils. Marcus, Blaze, and Shadow.
Marcus was the leader, tall and built like he could break someone without trying. His dark hair was slicked back, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, and tattoos crawled up his neck from under his open black shirt. He didn’t smile. He just watched her with dark eyes that made her stomach flip.
Blaze
