These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends [h.s.]

Chapter 20

Harry turns to his side as I stood next to him and for a brief moment, he lets go of my arm. He digs through his pants and pulls out this miniature yet rectangular tin can that seemed rusted by the corners. Engraved on the lid were words that when once put together spelled Rose.

Harry slides the top of the lid and picks up a small pill. He throws it in his mouth then swallows it in one gulp. He slides the lid back on, securing it, then places it back into his pocket. I wanted to ask what it was but I just assumed it was probably some kind of drug to get him high.

"Follow me." Harry lifts the heavy velvet curtains with his hand, pushing them to the side. He snakes his other hand around my lower hip and tugs me close to his side, catching me by surprise. Harry and I started to walk and entered a massive room.

It was dim, but there were red lights that were beaming down from the ceilings as they were the only colors lit throughout the entire club. I look up and see a huge stage that extended in the middle, similar to the shape of the letter 'T'. There were dozens of exotic dancers dressed in revealing lingerie and ripped tights covering so little of their skin as they seductively swayed their bodies to the music. Some were flipping their hair and grinding against huge poles while others were bent over, whispering into the ears of young-looking men who sat in chairs at circular tables placed all alongside the stage. These men were hollering and wooing at the ladies while tossing hundreds of dollar bills at them.

The room was overcrowded with booths and tables filled with grown men who were much more stern and reserved than the ones who were practically drooling by the stage. Many were smoking while others conversed, all taking huge swings of alcohol from their glass cups. There was a bar in the middle of the room between the booths and the stage.

I saw Niall who was slurping liquid from a woman's stomach. She was dressed similarly to the exotic women who were dancing on stage. The crowd surrounding the bar was cheering Niall on like he was a football quarterback that'd just made a touchdown.

"Walk," Harry grimly whispers in my ear. I walked in front of him as he guided my hips with his hands through the rough crowd. He urged me to move closer to the dark area of the club where all the men in suits were sitting. As we made our way between the tables, I felt dozens of eyes staring at us. Some started to whistle and I felt very violated.

"Harry their looking at us," I quietly murmured.

"No, sweetheart. They're looking at you." Harry glanced at the prying men and returned multiple deathly stares. Soon, the whistling and glancing subsided.

Finally, we stop at a table that was filled with at least seven men that were seated. All but one had guns holstered at their hips, dangerously scoping out the club as if they were trying to spot something. Each of them had a lit cigarette in their hands puffing out huge clouds of smoke that hit me in the face. They all wore matching black suits except for the one in the middle.

This man, who looked much more younger than the rest, held a huge cigar between the nook of his fingers. He slowly inhales then blows the smoke from his mouth that made an o-shape. His brunette hair was slicked back except for a little strand that curled laying on the top of his forehead. He wore a white dress shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his stomach, exposing an enormous tattoo in an italic form that read It Is What It Is above his upper chest. He was handsome, to say the least, but nowhere as near as Harry.

"I see they've opened the doors to the riff-raff now," he says with a devious grin plastered on his chiseled face.

"Oh, honey, I've been called worse," Harry says as he grabs a glass of dark liquor from the table, chugging it down his throat.