Most of the time she picked well, but there were other times she was not quite so adept. Like that psycho the night before. He’d seemed so normal; just another guy out for a little naughty fun. Medium brown hair, average build, casually but well dressed. He seemed safe enough.
At least until he touched her. Then suddenly he seemed much bigger, much stronger than he first appeared, and she saw the touch of madness in his eyes. That’s when her blood began to run cold and her skin crawled. The man grabbed her ass hard and ground into her, his rancid breath nearly suffocating her as he told her all the things he was going to do to her.
And there had been nothing she could do about it, not without blowing her cover. She’d thought security would be on the guy right away, but they weren’t. They told the boss later they hadn’t realized the extent of the situation. Nick was there within seconds of seeing her face, though, pushing through the crowd to get to her, and Nicki heard the sickening crunch even before the guy’s strangled scream. That caught the security guys’ attention, and they took care of things from there, but the damage was done.
Afterward, when they were all called into the manager’s office, she played her part well, pretending it was difficult to speak coherently. Not that it mattered in the end. The night manager seemed more concerned with the fallout than anything else. Nick was banned from the premises for disorderly conduct and she was reprimanded for inciting the situation and not following proper procedure.
Assholes.
The owner, at least, took the situation more seriously, taking the time to speak with her before her shift. Unlike the night manager, he seemed like a decent guy. He apologized for what happened, and for not being there personally to handle the matter. He also said that Nick was welcome anytime – just not while she was performing. The security guys were reamed out for not being on top of things, and she was assured they would be watching more closely from now on.
Those assurances eased her anxiety somewhat, but she’d learned a long time ago that a man’s word wasn’t worth shit. Nicki wasn’t sure what happened with the douche bag manager, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found tonight. Maybe he’d been fired, or at least reassigned to weeknights. There was some small measure of satisfaction in that, at least.
Hoping tonight would not be a repeat, she locked herself somewhere safe inside her own mind and let her body go, telling herself that it was just a job, nothing more. This was a necessary evil, part of the role she had to play to get what she’d come here for. She’d done a lot worse for a lot less in her lifetime. But even as the lights and the music changed, signaling the interactive portion of the show, another tiny part of her soul died. Again. She wondered how much more she had left.
The sight of a crisp hundred dollar bill raised in the air caught her attention. It almost made what she was about to do worthwhile. Almost. She didn’t need the money anymore, but growing up in the streets having to struggle for everything was deeply ingrained in her psyche. She took a deep breath and reminded herself why she was here.
God, how she hated this. Just like most of the other women who worked here. Some were putting themselves through school. Others were trying to feed and clothe their kids. One or two actually liked it, but they were definitely the exceptions.
She wouldn’t be doing this forever, she reminded herself. Only as long as she had to and not a minute more. This, too, would soon pass and she’d be off to whatever was next. Hopefully it would be something that wouldn’t warrant scrubbing herself in the shower for a good thirty minutes in scalding water afterwards, even though she knew the dirtiness she felt could not be washed away.
Maybe, after this, she’d disappear for a while, someplace out in the middle of nowhere where she could be alone and chuck her finger at the rest of the world. Until then, she would shut the hell up and make the best of what she had.
Nicki pasted the sexy smirk on her face that had become second nature and got herself back into character, fighting her inner revulsion and summoning the courage for what she needed to do. A quick check told her security was in place, watching. She snagged the hundo out of the air and turned her back to him, swaying her ass suggestively before him. For a hundred bucks, she’d give him a good show.
She put both hands on her cheeks and undulated for all it was worth, circling seductively with the music. If nothing else, her job made her take über-good care of her body. Jason, the owner, was pretty decent about it, too. He had some kind of arrangement with the local fitness place that allowed the girls to work out there for a discounted rate. That was a good thing. BodyWorks was a great place, but it wasn’t cheap, especially on a week-by-week basis.
Seductively, she brought her hands to the edges of her leather jacket and began to peel them away, slowly revealing shoulders, then upper arms, upper back. Her breasts were barely covered by black satiny lace that concealed very little. The silver and black links of the choker chain she wore accentuated the light peachy, smooth skin. A matching belly chain wove around her bare stomach, dangling provocatively toward the area covered by her skimpy black lace thong, clearly revealing the spiraling hip tat as she unlaced her leathers and slithered out of them.
Only then did she turn around and straddle her fan, sliding her barely-covered sex along his muscular thighs. Her arms grasped at the rock hard biceps until she was snug against a massive iron arousal. At least he was built. It didn’t justify what she did, but it did make it more palatable, as well as easier to let herself fantasize, because that was the only way this could work. If she allowed herself to see them for who and what they really were, she could never fake the desire needed to pull off a successful lap dance. Fat, sweaty guys doused in Polo were the worst.
But this guy was really smacked together; every point of contact only revealed more hard, solid male muscle. And he smelled good, too. In fact, the scent was rather unique. And familiar. In a rush of excitement and dread, Nicki actually looked into the face of the man she was practically dry humping. Luminous blue eyes bore into hers. An expression so hard and fierce it could have been carved from marble.
Him.
* * *
Sean knew the exact moment she recognized him. Up until then she’d been smooth, practiced. Fire and ice raced through his veins as he realized that she did this every night. The only thing keeping him sane at that moment was the fact that her eyes were dead. Nicki’s body was there, but her mind was somewhere far, far away.
He’d seen that look more times than he could count; it was one he wore often, one he’d seen in his brothers’ eyes when they were forced to do something they didn’t want to do but had to. Somehow that thought comforted him a little. If she actually enjoyed this, he would have walked away and not looked back.
But she didn’t. Christ, she hated it. He could sense it, feel it with a certainty he dare not question. And that gave him hope.
When she saw it was him, her eyes blazed with life. Her body tensed mid-stroke and her lips parted slightly in surprise. Several emotions passed through her face in seconds, and he felt every one of them acutely – initial shock, then fear, then... embarrassment?
It took only a few seconds for her to recover, and then she began to pull away. She was going to bolt, going to leave him, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. Before she could throw herself from his lap his hands came down like iron cuffs over her thighs in warning, trapping her in place. Her eyes widened. He saw a flash of panic.
He was aware of the security guy closing in on his right, and another not too far off on his left. He could kill them both, instantly, without hesitation if they tried to interfere.
“Finish it,” he commanded, his voice a rough, erotic whisper.
Sean’s hands eased just a little, and the panic in those smoldering eyes gave way to something else. Determination. Lust. Hunger. She signaled off the Security guys, then dug one hand into his shoulder and wove the fingers of her other through his silky black hair and smiled. Then she tilted her head back, giving him a perfec
t view of her rock-hard nipples poking through the lace and began to ride him in time with the music.
Sean’s eyes darkened to a deep sapphire blue as he felt the hot moisture soak into his jeans. He saw the telltale flush in her cheeks and the widening of her eyes; heard the softest of feminine moans even over the pounding music. At first, he thought he’d imagined it. But then realization dawned, followed closely by a swell of triumph rising up within him.
He flexed his hands to draw her gaze back to him; he had to look in her eyes to know for sure. Her smoky light grays were still a little dazed, and the telltale flush blossoming on her cheeks told him everything thing he needed to know.
Oh yeah. She had.
The fog cleared all too quickly. The soft smoke reverted back to the cold steel he’d seen before, her features hardened, and her chin lifted in defiance. Sean amended his assessment: she had come, but she hated herself for it.
Well, too damn bad.
The music began to wind down and she eased herself from his lap. Sean took great pride in the fact that her legs were shaking and she was forced to lean on his shoulders for a few seconds before collapsing. His big hands curled around her small waist to steady her.
“Give another man a lap dance and he dies,” Sean threatened quietly as he leaned forward, tucking another fifty into her thong for show. To everyone else it simply looked as if he was giving her an extra tip, but he felt her quiver beneath the discreet stroke of his fingers.
“Fuck you,” she said just as quietly, a smile pasted on her face as she gave him the customary kiss on the cheek.
“Count on it,” he breathed as she moved away.
Chapter Four
Nicki felt his eyes boring into her back until she disappeared behind the curtain, fighting the urge to collapse.
“Wow, must be beginner’s luck,” Sherri congratulated her with a wink backstage. “You got a Callaghan. I got a middle-aged banker with a paunch.”
Nicki tried to smile and wave it off, but inside she felt like she was going to throw up. What the hell was he doing here? Had Nick sent him?
As if she didn’t hate herself enough. Those brief moments of orgasmic pleasure evaporated quickly, leaving nothing but the reality of burning shame. Dancing for nameless, faceless strangers was one thing; it didn’t mean anything. But dancing for her brother’s boss? It made her feel vile. Dirty.
Ashamed.
And why? Why did she care? Why did she actually get wet when those big hands held her? That never happened before. God, she was still shaking. Maybe, she thought hopefully, he didn’t notice. Then she remembered the wicked smile on his face, the heated warning he gave her. Oh yeah, he knew. Damn.
She plopped herself down in front of one of the small vanities in the dressing room, seeing and hearing little of the activity around her, willing her heart to stop pounding against the walls of her chest, her legs to stop quivering. With some effort, she began to remove the glittery stage make-up, smearing the thick cream over her face.
It was a one-time thing, she told herself. It was over. She got carried away, but that was alright, because it totally fed into her naughty girl persona. Tomorrow night, she’d draw an even bigger crowd. And she would stay the hell away from one steel-bodied, blue-eyed hard-ass.
“You. In my office. Now.” The quiet but deep voice rang throughout the dressing room, instantly capturing the attention of every girl there. The owner of Angels, Jason Michaels, stood in the doorway. No one who didn’t know him would have guessed him for what he was based on his appearance. He wore dark blue jeans, a black oxford and running shoes. He was average height, trim, with boy-next-door good looks – blonde hair and brown eyes all the way. The ladies guessed his age at around thirty-ish, but it was hard to be more specific than that.
He rarely made a personal appearance on the floor, preferring to handle business from his office. When he did show, it was usually not good news.
“Can I get changed first?” Nicki tried to inject some of her trademark cockiness into her tone, the look of irritation almost as well-rehearsed as her patented eye roll.
“No.” Jason tossed her a cape from the nearby hook, then turned abruptly and walked toward his private office, clearly expecting her to follow. The silence was deafening in the normally bustling room.
With a huge feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, Nicki followed behind, not even bothering to work up the bluster. After the day she had – running on minimal sleep, following up dead leads, the incident at the garage, then the debacle tonight - she didn’t have the strength.
“Sit.” Jason took a seat behind the massive cherry wood desk and poured out two glasses of brandy. Nicki remained by the door, shifting her weight slightly from one leg to the other. It was a habit she had tried hard to break, this subconscious preparation for fight or flight. It was as much a part of her as her strong survival instinct.
“I said sit,” he repeated, more firmly this time. Nicki stiffened at the authority in his tone. Her chin lifted slightly and her spine straightened.
“Nicki,” he exhaled, his tone not quite as sharp. “You look like you’re going to pass out any second. Please. Sit down. Have some brandy. And tell me what the fuck is going on.”
After a few long moments of hesitation, Nicki moved forward and did as he asked, though she remained perched on the edge of her seat, ready for immediate flight should it become necessary. Jason looked pointedly at the glass he’d set out for her and waited until she actually took a sip before continuing. As a general rule, she didn’t drink, and never while on the job, but a swallow or two of the high quality brandy might help her calm her frayed nerves a bit.
Nicki watched him carefully through guarded eyes, waiting for him to get down to it. It was a control thing, she knew. She’d dealt with enough men to know the ones who liked asserting their authority. At least Jason was fairly low-key about it.
While she waited for him to get to it, she took the opportunity to study him. They had only spoken twice before – once on the day she was hired, but that was more of a one-way interview than an actual conversation; she had been on stage auditioning and he’d been sitting in the dark, watching. The second time was earlier today when he spoke to her about Nick, but that meeting had been down in the bar prior to her shift in the midst of setup and in the presence of the bouncers. Now it was just the two of them in his office. Given the total lack of external noise, it was probably soundproofed.
The private space was not at all what she would have pictured for the owner of a gentleman’s club. Instead of garish colors and lewd art, there were neutral, soothing colors that tended toward darker browns and forest greens, and soft, ambient lighting. It looked professionally done. The polished cherry desk matched the small personal bar; the chairs were covered in comfortable and stylish sable leather. A few abstract prints brought some welcome splashes of color to the area, but even they tended toward the subtle. Overall, it was remarkably understated and simply done, yet very pleasant.
The man was just as surprising as his space. Young, well-built, attractive. With golden blonde hair that looked slightly tousled and rich, dark eyes, he looked more like the boy next door than a sin-merchant. It was no wonder half the female staff was infatuated with him.
She could see the appeal, but he wasn’t really her type – a little too all-American, too mainstream for her taste. Probably drove a BMW. Listened to classic rock. Vacationed at the beach. All good things, but not her style.
Not that she ever dated; she avoided that like the plague. But when she did allow herself to fantasize, the men were always a little darker, a little bigger, and little more dangerous and unpredictable. More like a certain hard-bodied bad boy with wickedness glowing in his crystal blue eyes and a cock the size of a ... ah, hell. So not going there.
Across the massive desk, Jason seemed to be searching for the right words. Clearly he had something to say and didn’t quite know how to say it. As attractive as he was to watch, Nicki was too tir
ed to play games. She just wanted to go home and forgot this night ever happened.
“Am I fired?” she burst out.
He regarded her, his face interested but otherwise unreadable. “That was quite a show you put on tonight.” The words were spoken casually, but his eyes - a warm, chocolaty brown - revealed curiosity, and just maybe, amusement mixed with irritation.
Her eyes widened a bit. He had seen? Of course he had, she reprimanded herself; there were security monitors on the wall to the left of his desk. Nicki had the presence to drop her chin a hair when she responded.
“That is what you pay me for, isn’t it?”
Jason’s lips quirked slightly. He looked way too comfortable in that chair, as if he knew something she didn’t. She hated that feeling. It never boded well.
“Ah, an overachiever,” he chuckled. “Seems to me that was about more than money.” He raised the glass to his lips again, never taking his eyes from her.
“It’s supposed to. Seem like it, that is.”
The quirk turned into an outright smile. “So you’re a consummate professional, is that it? All about pleasing the customer?”
Nicki clenched her jaw, felt the heat rise in her cheeks. It was a wonder she didn’t crack a tooth applying that much force.
“Are you telling me that’s a bad thing?” she ground out defensively.
“In one of the private viewing areas? Hell no. But out there among the masses? Fuck yes.”
His eyes flashed to the monitors again. Hers followed. The place was still packed. She could see why that might be a cause for concern. Any other night and they’d be steadily filing out after the big finale, hopefully with smiles on their faces and their pockets a lot lighter than when they came in. But tonight there was a different kind of energy on the floor. The men were more wired than usual, overanxious.
Seeking Vengeance: Callaghan Brothers, Book 4 Page 4