Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Before he can get a shot off, I have his gun in my hand and him on his knees in front of me, shaking like a leaf. I shoot a knee into a mouth full of capped teeth, breaking thousands of dollars’ worth of porcelain veneers.
“That’s for putting your hands on Lacey.” I send another knee into his face, flattening his nose. “And that’s for trying to extort money from the MC.”
I hoist him to his feet, but I have to slap him across the cheek to stop his blubbering.
“Stop crying like a baby,” I growl.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me.”
Blood drips from both nostrils and his lips. His nose is flat against his cheek, and his front teeth are nothing but jagged little lumps of enamel.
“You brought this on yourself the moment you stepped into our territory. Now get the fuck out of Flintlock and don’t look back. Consider this your first warning.” I loosen my hold on him, and he relaxes. But then I lunge at him, and he falls back into a pile of archive boxes. “If you’re smart, you won’t make me give you a second warning. Now… get the fuck out.”
Luka and his goons limp out of the club and escape to their car parked in the alley. Lacey joins me from the back room, and we watch them on the surveillance screen as they skid off into the night.
“Do you think that’s the last we’ll see of them?” she asks.
“Probably not. But we’ll increase security around the club, and if they come back, Jack will pay him a visit.”
“I appreciate it.” She pats my shoulder. “Come on, let me buy you a drink.”
We leave her office, and I follow her into the club.
As strip clubs go, the Spicy Crawdad is clean and tidy with a bit of style. Blue neon lights run the length of the ceiling casting the club in an ethereal light.
Lacey pours me a bourbon, but just as she slides it across the bar, the sound of Def Leppard suddenly bursts into the club, and the energy in the room intensifies as a new dancer appears on stage.
My drink pauses at my lips when I see who it is.
The gorgeous blonde from the night before.
And she looks incredible.
Leaning against the bar, I ask, “Who’s the new girl?”
“That’s Rory. Nice kid. Great body. The regulars love her.”
“She been here long?”
“She started a few weeks ago. Can’t pour a drink to save herself, but I can’t fault her dancing.”
Neither can I.
She’s goddamn mesmerizing on stage.
Legs for days. A body that doesn’t quit. A deep golden tan that’s a stark contrast to the white bikini she’s barely wearing. She moves in perfect synchronicity to the music, the sway of her hips and flick of her long, blonde hair intoxicating to watch.
“Where did she come from?” I ask, spellbound.
Lacey lights a cigarette. “Not sure. She just turned up one day wanting a job. Said she was new in town. It’s a shame she’s thinking of leaving.”
“Leaving?”
“When she came in tonight, she mentioned she might head back to—”
“Boston,” I say without thinking, my eyes still glued to the stage.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Why?” I ask, ignoring her question.
“Why what?”
“Why is she thinking of leaving?”
“Do I look like her mom? How the hell do I know?” She takes a drag on her cigarette and shrugs. “Kind of feels like she came here looking for something but didn’t find it, so she’s packing up sticks.”
Watching Rory slide her lithe body around the pole is making me hard.
“It’s not like you to look twice at any of the girls here,” Lacey adds.
I straighten and drain the rest of my drink. “And I’m not starting now.”
But Lacey gives me a knowing look. I must have interested written all over my face because I can’t tear my eyes off Rory.
“Can I suggest that if you were interested in making her acquaintance, tonight would be a good start,” Lacey suggests. “Although, you might have to get in line. Plenty of boys around here have tried, but she shoots them down like ducks in a barrel.”
I don’t say anything as I walk away and head toward the stage.
I can’t help it.
It’s like my feet have minds of their own.
I’m trapped in the light of the glitterball and being pulled toward something.
Not just her.
But something much bigger than both of us.
Need.
RORY
I love my job as a dancer.
Whenever I’m on stage, I see nothing but the twirling sparkles of the glitterball across the room and the spangle of light from the light show.
But I feel everything.
The pulse of the music thrumming through my veins.
The throb of power as I move my body to the beat.
The pull of strong muscles as I hook my leg around the pole and begin my routine.
There is something powerful and liberating when your body is syncopated to the music and your limbs move in harmony to the songs booming out from the sound system.