I stared at my reflection in the mirror and forced a carefree eye roll. “There are more than a few hot guys that are in and out of here. They don’t bother me.”
She just shrugged and started to walk away. Her set was coming up. “He sure looked bothered.”
“What can I say? I do my job well.” I winked at her, even though I felt like hiding in the bathroom stall again. “Now, you go do your job well.”
She swung her hips as she sashayed away, smiling at me over her shoulder. “You know I always do.”
She wasn’t wrong. Lola and I had competed for the top spot since I’d arrived at The View. Some weeks, she got it. Others, I did. She was a performer with an amazing body and the personality to go with it.
I pushed my hair out of my face and took a few deep breaths. I had to recover from whatever weirdness had just happened with my soldier. Not my soldier. The soldier.
Shaking my head, I scowled at my reflection. I couldn’t afford to fuck things up for myself. If I got fired and had to live off of my savings, it would take away from the dream. I couldn’t do that. I was too close.
“Yo, Cookie. You’ve got a special request from Porter. He’s got a whole group with him. You ready for it?”
No. Porter was my biggest moneymaker. He came in to see me more than once a week most weeks. He was small and slimy and smelled like cigars, but he had the money to support the habit. I just didn’t want him near me after that intense session in the black room. I didn’t want anyone near me after that.
“Cookie?” Steve yelled my name, his voice more than edged with annoyance. “You gonna answer me, or are you just gonna stare at yourself in the fucking mirror all night?”
Fuck. “I was thinking! Jesus, Steve. Give me a minute.”
“Thinking? You don’t get paid to think, Cookie. You get paid for grinding on Frank Porter’s rich lap.” He stepped farther into the room and softened his voice. “It wasn’t a real question, Cookie. You know Porter will only take you. Of course you’re ready for it. You’re my main girl, right?”
I wanted to punch him right in his smushed little nose. I smiled as I imagined myself jabbing my fingers into his eyeballs, Three Stooges style. He didn’t pay me to think? I wonder how he thought I balanced his books every month. By grinding on them? Asshole. “I need to freshen up first.”
“Freshen up? What’s with you girls and your ‘freshen up’? Men don’t give a shit. Just hurry. He’s in the red room, waiting.”
I glared at his back as he left and then turned back to the mirror. I was tired. My feet hurt, and slipping up with the soldier named Vince had thrown me. I wanted to go home, count my money, and dream about the dream.
Instead, I freshened up and slipped on a different lingerie set and dress. I sprayed a mist of body spray on my wrists and rubbed it behind my ears before fluffing my hair and heading out. After the private dance with Porter, I’d bartend for a little while and then be out of there for another night. I had the next day off, so I could take it easy.
Just one more dance and I’d be free.
Chapter 6
Cookie
Frank Porter was supposedly some sort of low-level mob boss. Although I wasn’t entirely sure how someone like Frank became a boss of anything. He was smarmy. Not only did he look like some sort of rodent; he acted like one. How anyone would pledge loyalty to a man like him was beyond me. But, like Steve said, it wasn’t my job to think. It was my job to grind on his lap.
In the red room, I found Frank and his whole group of guys. He always had a handful with him, but that night, he had at least ten. The room was full. Men were standing around, all waiting to watch me and it soured my stomach instantly. The setup felt wrong.
Worse than even Frank was his son, Donnie. If Frank was a rodent, Donnie was a snake, waiting to eat him in the background. He was exactly the kind of man you’d expect a low-level mob boss like Frank to raise. Entitled as hell, self-indulgent, narcissistic, and more than a little creepy. I hated when Donnie was around. We’d had more than one talk about the rules.
Frank and Donnie were sitting on the couch, alone. They were spread out, smiling like the cats who’d killed the canary for fun, and reeking of trouble. Dressed in a suit, style was the only thing Frank wore differently than his son.
Donnie noticed me first. His eyes narrowed in on me and he instantly patted his lap. “Come on over here, baby. We’re celebrating tonight.”
I forced a seductive smile to my lips and stood in front of the two men. Donnie was calling to me, but I knew who had the money. Frank wasn’t the kind of man who could handle being ignored, even for a few moments. I ran my fingers over Donnie’s knees, but sat on his father’s lap instead. “What are you celebrating tonight, Mr. Porter?”
Another thing about Frank. No one called him Frank. The man’s lips parted and his mustache hung farther down than his lip, contrasting against the white of his teeth as he smiled. “Donnie just closed his first deal. Isn’t that great, Cookie?”
I ran my hand down Frank’s chest and stifled the urge to shiver. “That’s amazing. I guess there is reason to celebrate tonight. What were you boys thinking?”
Donnie grunted. “You could come back to our place and we could have a real party, Cookie.”
Keeping my smile steady, I shook my head. “Oh, Donnie. You know the rules. You just like to pretend you don’t. You’re a bad boy like that, aren’t you?”
He leered at me. “Fuck the rules, baby. Come home with us and we’ll set you up real nice.”
It was more of the same. He was always running his mouth. I wanted to staple it shut. I just moved to my feet and bit my lip as I stared down at Frank. “What do you want, Mr. Porter?”
He chuckled. “You know what I like, Cookie.”
I did, unfortunately. I moved to the curtain and motioned for the music to start. A second later, the faster beat filled the room and I moved over to Frank. He liked a faster pace, the way I circled my hips over his erection, and to come in his pants before the song ended. I pretended not to notice; he pretended it hadn’t happened. No one looked and no one said a word when the song was cut short early every single time.
I moved my body to the music and pulled my dress up over my hips. Bending and pressing my ass into Frank’s crotch, I felt my stomach reject what I was doing. I hadn’t eaten since lunch, but I still felt like I was going to projectile vomit all over the room. Knowing that I’d just been doing the same thing to the soldier and letting him touch me, it made everything dirty. Dirtier than it already was.
Still, I held it together and danced for him. As predicted, halfway through the song, he grunted and jerked against me before pushing me off of him. Donnie was quick to grab my wrist and pull me onto his lap, though.
I caught myself on the arm of the couch and gave him a look. Still sexy, but stern. “No touching, Donnie.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender and sneered. “How come my dad is Mr. Porter and I’m just Donnie?”
I got to my feet and moved to the music while still keeping it together, even though all I wanted to do was slap the shit out of the idiot. “Would you like me to call you something else?”
One of the men in the room snickered and it seemed to piss Donnie off. He glared past me and then grabbed my wrist again. “You can call me master.”
I pulled my arm away and shook my head. “I said no touching.”
Frank laughed from beside us and I saw him, out of the corner of my eye, lean down and snort something from his wrist. “No touching, Donnie.”
They were really celebrating. I’d never seen Frank do drugs before. I’d never seen anyone be bold enough to do it right in the club like that. Instantly, the room felt even more sinister. The men behind me, watching as I struggled back to my feet, Frank laughing and mimicking me, Donnie’s eyes growing darker.
“What’s the big deal, Cookie? You’re a stripper. Don’t you just naturally do stuff like this?” He grabbed me again and pulled me into his lap
. Wrapping his arms around me, he held me against him while I struggled.
“Donnie, I’m done. Let me go, now.” I pried his arms open and shot to my feet. I stumbled on the heels, but it barely slowed me down. I was out of there. I’d lose the money. It was fine. I wasn’t staying in there for a second longer, though.
I was at the curtain when Donnie grabbed my arm again and yanked me backwards. I fell into his chest and growled out of frustration. “I’m telling you now, Donnie. Let me go or I’m going to make you regret this.”
He laughed and rubbed his nose up my neck. “Oh, yeah? How are you going to—”
I latched on to the same arm he was holding me with and used all of my strength to yank him around. While he was falling towards the wall, I twisted his arm behind him and used it to shove him face first into the red wall, next to one of their men and a speaker. “I told you not to touch me, Donnie.”
“You fucking bitch! Get off of me!” His screams were almost drowned out by the sound of Frank laughing. His father was riding a good high and apparently the men only answered to him. None of them moved to make me release Donnie.
“I told you, but you didn’t listen. I didn’t want to do this.”
“I’ll fucking kill you for this!” His blubbering fury managed to cut through his dad’s high that time.
Frank straightened up and sighed. “Hilliard, Dave. Get him. Sorry to run so fast, Cookie, but it seems that my son has reached his limit for the night. You’ll have to forgive him.”
It just pissed Donnie off more to be talked about like that. He spat and practically foamed at the mouth, even as I let him go and the two men, Hilliard and Dave, grabbed him. “You don’t get to treat me like that, you fucking slut. Who are you, anyway? A nobody. You’re just a whore who spreads her legs for money.”
I smiled sweetly at him and lifted an eyebrow. “And yet I still won’t let you touch me, Donnie. What does that say about you?”
Frank clapped a hand on my shoulder and shoved a wad of bills into my hand. “Cookie, it was a pleasure, as always. Tensions are just high tonight. Forgive us.”
I couldn’t make myself pretend like it was okay. I just shook my head and left the room, leaving the beaded curtain swinging behind me as Donnie’s shouts faded into nothing.
Lola was coming off the stage as I neared the back door. She gave me a worried look and glanced back at where Frank’s men were basically carrying Donnie out. I scowled and kept walking.
Changing as fast as I could, I yanked my hair up into a knot and fixed my makeup at my vanity. I was fuming. The things Donnie had said, the way he’d grabbed me. It pissed me off more than anything. I wasn’t a whore and I didn’t sleep with random men for money. I stripped to make money. It was how I’d always made money. Until I had enough of that money, it was going to be how I still made money. That didn’t mean anything about who I was as a person.
Vince filled my head again and I winced. He was an exception. Whatever had happened with him in the black room was a one-off thing. Never before and never again. It didn’t make me what Donnie had called me.
By the time I reached the bar, I was in my head and not at my best. I didn’t flirt with the customers, I messed up orders, I wasn’t as fast as I normally was. I was a ball of anger and it was fucking with me. My tips suffered, big time.
When last call came, I was more than ready to get out of the club. I wanted to go home and get under my covers after a scalding-hot shower. Of course, there was Steve, though. He needed me to run over some numbers for him, more “not thinking,” and I didn’t end up getting to leave until almost an hour after everyone else had gone home.
It wasn’t unusual for me to close up by myself. The parking lot was well lit, with cameras, and I carried protection. I had a concealed-handgun permit and a loaded .38 special in my purse. I didn’t want to use it, but I knew how to and I would if I had to.
As I locked the door and started walking across the parking lot, I noticed the sound of another set of footsteps. My heart instantly jack-rabbited into my throat and I spun around to see who was in the parking lot with me. When I didn’t see anyone, instead of easing my fear, it increased it. Someone was there—I’d heard them—and they were hiding from me.
I turned around and started at a run to my car. It was an older model, without automatic locks, so I found the right key and had it ready in my hand as I reached the door, but froze as someone called my name.
Just twenty feet away stood Donnie Porter. He was scowling at me, his hand at his side with a knife in it. The blade sparkled at me as the light caught it. “Hey, Cookie.”
My blood ran cold and my fingers fumbled the keys. They hit the ground with a resounding tinkling of metal on metal. Like a lone firecracker a few days after the Fourth of July, the sound stood out. It was the period at the end of a sentence that finished a cliffhanger. Hanging in the air, it sent both Donnie and I into motion.
Without time to bend over and get the keys, I ran. Donnie chased me, the knife in his hand raised, poised to stab and maim. I didn’t want to be stabbed or maimed. That resolution had me grabbing for my gun at the bottom of my purse. My fingers locked on the cool metal and as my purse fell away, I spun around and raised it at Donnie.
He didn’t stop. He was closing in. He wasn’t going to stop.
I screamed even as I pulled the trigger. The boom that echoed through the area was shocking. My ears throbbed even as the kick of the gun shook through my body. Donnie’s forward trajectory was instantly stopped. His body jerked backwards and a bloom of red appeared in the middle of his forehead.
It was as if his body didn’t realize that he was dead for a few seconds. His eyes went wide and the knife fell to the ground as his arms windmilled, trying to keep him upright. Like it would help. Time stood still as reality won and his body fell backwards, giving in to what had just happened. He was dead.
That quickly, he’d taken his last breath. Donnie Porter was dead.
My stomach heaved and I hurried away from him to throw up bile and the water I’d had before closing. Somehow, throwing up in front of somebody, even a dead somebody, seemed wrong.
I emptied my stomach and then some before standing up straight and looking back at Donnie’s lifeless body. It was still there. It wasn’t some awful dream in which I killed someone. It was real.
I’d killed someone.
I cupped my hand over my mouth and stared at the body, at Donnie. I had to call someone. I had to call the cops. I’d killed Donnie.
My chest tightened and I gasped for breath. I’d killed him. I’d killed a man. I clawed at my chest, needing air. I felt like I was going to die, too. I couldn’t breathe.
Falling to my knees, I felt a scream bubbling up. I tilted my head back and let it out. Piercing through the night, it rang out until there really was no air in my lungs. I fell to my hands and knees and stared at a cigarette butt as my vision darkened at the edges.
What a way to go.
Chapter 7
Vince
Stationed outside of Jade’s house, I made my rounds once more before waiting for Tucker to show up and take over. I’d been inside earlier in the day and did all I could to make conversation with the woman, but it was obvious that I scared her. So, hanging out in the heat was my best second option. The cameras we’d installed first thing that morning were set to capture anything and everything. I was ready for anything and everything. Jade was as safe as she could possibly be.
George had left for a business trip that morning and had called twice already. It was clear that he was worried about his niece, but it felt like there was something else playing beneath the surface, as well. I didn’t know if he didn’t fully trust us, or what, but I had a gut feeling about George. His niece, however, was definitely a victim of her ex’s bullshit. There was no doubt about that.
I ended up making another trip around the house, past the scorched earth and the tree swing at the other corner of the backyard, before Tucker showed up. When he
did drive up, he hopped out quickly, still combing his wet hair and kicking his pants leg down.
“Sorry, man. All I did was run home to shower and before I knew it, I was late.” He reached down and pulled his pants leg out of his boot and grunted. “Charlie was there and we ended up in the shower together and then she was telling me about the shooting last night.”
I nodded my head towards the front door of Jade’s house. “You’ve been given the rundown on her? You can go in and introduce yourself, but I wouldn’t stay for long. She’s a nervous wreck. Maybe talk to her about Charlie, though. That could help.”
“Got it.” He straightened and blew out a breath. “Are we not going to talk about the shooting?”
I sighed. “Sure, Tucker. What do you want to talk about?”
“Um, how about the fact that Lauren told Charlie that you dragged Mercer to a strip club last night and that there was a shooting there. What happened?”
“What shooting?”
“The shooting I’ve been talking about! Jesus. Are you still drunk?”
I shoved him towards his truck. “Are you stupid? You want the client to hear you accusing me of being drunk on the job? Keep your voice down, asshole.”
He shoved me back, but the hostility faded out fast, the same way it always did with us. “So, what happened?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shook my head. “There was no shooting while I was there.”
“Well, there was a shooting after you left, then.”
I thought about the sexy redhead. Carolina. Even the thought of her had my body stiffening. She’d still been at the club after I left. After she’d pushed away from me and vanished into the back of the club, I’d felt the effects of all the whiskey and gone home. Whiskey dick was a myth that night. In bed, I thought of her body against mine and my hand gripping her ass and jacked off like a fucking kid.
“Where the fuck did you go?” Tucker grimaced and nodded at my pants. “Put that shit away, man.”
Black Dog Security- Complete 5-Part Series Page 51