“He knows the guys. They stop and do a walk through every night when they’re on patrol.”
Jolie didn’t like hearing that. All those pretty boobs shaking in her man’s face.
“He’ll be sure to change the music and hustle you to the stage when they get there.”
One last turn to check out her butt, and Jolie closed her eyes. “I can do this. I can flash some skin. But do they have any pasties?”
“Pasties?” Lucy bent over double, holding her belly. “You think pasties are gonna hide a thing?”
Jolie scowled meaner into the mirror. “Find pasties!”
Lucy lurched away, still chortling, and Jolie eased open the little latches, three of them that held the bra together in the front.
She knew she’d have to open them, one at a time, while she shook and shimmied. She hoped like hell she didn’t land on her ass when she strutted her stuff in the stilettos. It would be so worth it to see Gabe’s expression when he realized who the entertainment really was.
*
“You and Jolie must have gotten things worked out,” Mike said, his gaze on the road, his tone a little too casual to be real. “She didn’t come after you with a spatula when we crashed her store.”
Gabe grimaced and set his canned soda on his knee. He and Mike were making a second pass through the business district. So far, everything was quiet. Too bad. He couldn’t escape the conversation. “Nothing’s worked out. We argued again last night.”
“Is she wearing you down yet?”
Gabe snorted. “What do you think?”
“You’re growly as a bear, which means she’s getting to you. If you could let her walk, you would have by now. You don’t usually stick around when a girl starts making demands.”
“She’s hard to ignore.”
“Bigger than life.”
Gabe shot Mike a hot glare. “You calling her fat?”
“Not at all. She’s got a big personality, a real joy for life and food.”
And sex.
“Buddy, if you kiss her off, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life,” Mike said, shaking his head.
“You telling me I should marry her?”
“Wouldn’t do that, bro. I know it’s a big step, especially given your family history. You have some issues to work through first.”
Gabe snorted. “You’re not Dr. Phil even if you are marrying a psychologist. I don’t have issues.”
“Sure you don’t. So it won’t be a problem setting a date.”
Gabe crushed the empty coke can in his hand. “Let’s slide by the Purple Palace, make sure things are quiet.”
Mike pulled the squad car into the strip joint’s packed parking lot. The music blared loudly even before they walked through the double glass doors.
Inside, heads turned, but everyone went right back to what they were doing. Two gentlemen in the seats at the back were getting lap dances and eagerly stuffing dollar bills anywhere the women would allow.
Gabe felt dirty just watching them. “Let’s say hey to Guppy and be on our way.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t see anything you like here? If you give Jolie the heave-ho, you might want to check out some of the babes here for a replacement.”
Gabe glared at Mike, wanting to punch him for even mentioning her name when they were in a place like this. “Not interested,” he ground out.
Mike smirked and lifted his chin toward the stage. “There’s Guppy, now. We’ll say hello and make sure he hasn’t had any problems, and then get the hell out of here.”
“Sooner the better,” Gabe muttered under his breath. Most of the women here were twigs—what he’d wanted before he’d learned the pleasures of a softer woman.
The loud, raucous music changed to something with a bluesy beat. Shouts from around the stage pulled his attention even though he wished he could tame the involuntary response. Looking at naked women made him feel guilty. As if he were betraying Jolie in some way.
If she knew this was part of his job, she still wouldn’t be happy about it. She worried enough about her figure and her appeal without thinking she had to compete with this.
The purple curtain shivered then long-fingered hands slipped around the edges, clutching it tightly closed. The outline of two bodies pressed against the thick satin had him guessing that the girl was a little shy about walking out on the stage. The curtain jerked and shimmied. When it opened, his eyes widened.
Caught in the spotlight, Jolene Ledbetter teetered on tall, spiked shoes, all her luscious café au lait skin bared except for a pair of low-cut briefs and a pointy bra. She swallowed hard, lifted her head, and nervously placed a hand on her hip before vamping forward, her stride too uptight, too stiff to be graceful, but the crowd didn’t seem to care. Hands reached up, waving greenbacks. When the first one touched her ankle, his hands curled into fists.
Before she’d taken another step forward, Gabe charged toward the stage, but arms surrounded him, holding him back. “Don’t do it, buddy,” Mike said, his voice tight. “If you start busting heads, you’ll lose your badge.”
Chapter Five
‡
Jolie heard the music, tried to catch the beat, but she’d never been so scared or embarrassed in her life.
She knew she’d made a huge mistake the minute she’d entered the stripper’s dressing room. Lucy had ushered her in after Guppy, the skinny, bespectacled manager of the strip club, let them in the back door and showed them to the women’s dressing room. She already wore her costume under a tightly belted trench coat, but getting her first up-close look at the other women awaiting their turns on the stage made her lose her nerve.
She turned back toward the exit.
Lucy stood behind her, her arms crossed over her chest. “No, you don’t,” she whispered harshly. “Not after I paid him a hundred dollars to let you do this!”
“You paid him?”
Lucy shrugged. “He prefers professionals, but he’s not above a bribe.”
“Great. You had to pay him to let me take off my clothes. Get out of my way.”
Lucy’s chin firmed, and her eyes narrowed into the meanest look her friend could manage. “You talked me into this. You convinced me this was a good idea. No way are you going to chicken out now.”
“They’ll laugh at me,” Jolie whispered furiously.
The other women, even the curvier ones, weren’t as well-padded.
One the women nearest them, eyed Jolie in the glass as she applied a wide streak of eyeliner. “We’ve had big girls before. Some of the men prefer ’em. Give it a go, hon.”
Jolie didn’t appreciate the advice and straightened her spine, ready to walk right through Lucy if she didn’t get the hell out of her way.
Lucy lifted her chin. “You want a ring, remember? A commitment. You want him to notice you, know you’re desirable for more than your cupcakes.”
Jolie swallowed, her eyes filling. “I’m scared.”
Lucy’s militant expression softened. “You’ll do fine. In ten minutes, it’ll all be over. And you’ll know whether the shoes were meant for him.”
Jolie nodded slowly. “I couldn’t get the pasties to stick, the adhesive didn’t work on top of the body lotion I applied.”
The stripper eyeing her in the mirror turned and held out her hand. “Give ’em to me. I’ll show you my little trick. Works every time.”
Reluctantly, Jolie pulled the little gold-glittered pasties from the pocket of her coat and handed them to the woman who towered on a pair of platform PVC boots.
“Get out of that coat. Have to show your boobs. It’s just us girls here.”
The other girls laughed, but their smiles seemed friendly enough. Jolie didn’t like being the center of attention, and especially didn’t like the fact her “girls” were everyone’s focus, but she opened her coat and let Lucy slide it off her shoulders.
“The bra too. Can’t paste ’em on top of those cones. Nice bra by the way.”
“Thanks,” she said faintly. “The Whip and Tickle had a sale.”
“Name’s Angie,” the redhead said, grinning, “since we’re about to get friendly.”
Jolie’s eyes widened. The woman took a small bottle of glue sitting beside her open makeup case, circled the pasty then twisted it onto Jolie’s boob.
Jolie held her breath, shocked to her core. Her nipple beaded beneath the little circle and the pasty began to fall away.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Angie said. “Happens all the time to me. It’s cold out there.” Angie peeled the pasty off the rest of the way, carried it to her mouth, and licked it then twisted it back onto Jolie’s nipple.
Jolie knew she must have earned a ton of bad karma as the women laughed around her.
“They’re just laughing at your expression,” Angie said. “We all have our little tricks for keeping these things hiding the pearlies.”
Jolie suffered through Angie twisting on the second one, and didn’t even blanch when she licked it.
But she didn’t dare give Lucy a glance. She could feel her shaking beside her, clinging to her arm as she got ready to let loose with howls of laughter.
“Just remember,” Jolie clipped, “I know where you live, Lucy Burns.”
“Sorry,” Lucy gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. “You should have seen your face.”
“Yeah, it was pretty funny,” Angie said, her smile stretching. “You’re ready. Get that bra closed. You’re up next. Give that boyfriend hell.”
Lucy tossed Jolie’s coat over the back of a chair and grabbed Jolie’s waist, pushing her out the door and down the corridor toward the side of the stage. The curtains were closed.
Guppy signaled to her from the far side. “Get in the middle of the stage, and I’ll open ’em up.”
Jolie dug in her heels. Lucy pushed harder, and Jolie couldn’t get the traction she needed with the tiny stiletto tips scraping across the wooden floor. When she was behind the curtain, Guppy gave her a thumbs-up, and Lucy darted back.
The curtains started to open, but Jolie grabbed both sides and held them closed. “Oh, hell no.” She’d gotten a glimpse of the crowd when the curtain waved.
The bar was packed. A dozen or more heads and shoulders peering above the edge of the stage. They’d be looking up her ass.
“Let go of the curtain,” Guppy yelled.
Jolie shook her head. “No way in hell.”
Hands slipped over hers. “Let go, Jolie,” Lucy bit out, trying to peel back her fingers. “I paid for ten minutes but you can do five, and I won’t even make you pay me back.”
She squeezed Jolie’s hands, but Jolie gripped the fabric tighter.
They stumbled against the curtain, and she felt the curtain give a little from the top.
“You girls tear it down, you’re payin’ for it!” Guppy yelled. “Still got your credit card, missie.”
“Let go!” Lucy growled.
“I changed my mind. Musta lost it. No man’s worth the humiliation.”
“Give…the shoes…a chance.” Lucy dug her fingers under the waistband of Jolie’s shorts in the back and tugged.
“You tryin’ to give me a wedgie?”
“Worked in high school.”
The elastic at the back of her thong popped, and Jolie let go to give Lucy a glare when the curtains swished open.
Lucy hid behind the edge as it retreated, leaving Jolie in the center of the stage, pushing the remnants of her thong down her crack. The movement thrust out her chest, and the men around the stage began to howl.
Jolie crossed her arms in front to hide herself, but only managed to press more of her boobs over the top of the shiny cups.
“Bump and grind! Bump and grind!” Lucy shouted from the side.
Well, she was already out there in her underwear. What the hell? Jolie closed her eyes and listened for the music again, this time she felt it and took a couple of shaky steps forward. The stage narrowed to a catwalk, lights rimming the edge. Hands reached high, shaking dollar bills. One grabbed her ankle, but she shook him off and continued forward.
She caught a glimpse of two figures closing in from the front of the club, two tall, broad figures wearing dark uniforms.
Dear God, they were here. Gabe’s face was tight, hard. His fists curled. And he was coming fast.
The look on his face shouldn’t have excited her, but it did. She shook back her hair, turned on her heel and shook her ass for the crowd.
“Jolie!”
She heard his shout, but it only served to spur her on. She turned, squatting near a handsome dude whose eyes ate her up as she bounced and leaned forward.
His fingers slid under the edge of her bra and stuffed a dollar in her cleavage. She gave him a wink and glided up, turning to bend over and stare at him between her legs before easing up again, and rolling her hips, popping them to the music.
“Take a twenty!” another man shouted.
She strolled like a runway model, putting a finger in her mouth and standing in front of him to trace a wet path down her belly to the snap of her shorts.
“Show us some more skin!” he shouted, waving that bill.
Jolie gave him a wink, and feeling more assured of her attraction she squatted in front of him and leaned forward to get the money. However, he grabbed for her boob, nearly pulling her from the stage.
A bouncer ran up and pulled him back.
Jolie gave Gabe a sideways glance. You see that, baby? Your precious milk-and-cookies mama is gonna start a riot.
She bent toward the man seated next to the one who’d been hauled backward from the stage. He stuffed a cool, crisp twenty into her shorts. She went to her knees and opened the top toggle of her bra.
Shouts and whistles started, and she leaned back, smoothing a hand down her belly and back up then opening another latch. One more to go. Would she have the nerve?
“Jolie, don’t do it,” Gabe shouted.
But Gabe didn’t own her ass. Didn’t own her boobs. He hadn’t claimed an inch of her skin.
She opened the last clasp and held the edges closed over her breasts, and then slowly rose, walking to the end of the stage right in front of Gabe. With his hot, angry stare locking with hers, she opened her bra wide, flashing the crowd and shaking her glitter-topped tits. Take that, Gabe Devine.
A hand reached up and grabbed for her ankle.
Jolie tried to kick it loose, but the man was rising from his seat. “Come here, baby. Rub those titties on my face.”
She teetered and let out choked scream, falling toward the man. But he flew backward and another set of arms caught her.
A shoulder hit her belly, and she folded over a wide, muscular frame. Gabe’s butt flexed beneath her gaze as he stomped toward the doors.
The doors whooshed open, and he carried her outside and down the steps. Cool, wintery air prickled her skin, drying her sweat immediately.
“Put me down,” she said. “It’s cold!”
But he didn’t slow his pace, not until he reached the squad car, opened the back door, and flung her inside.
Jolie landed in a sprawl of legs and arms and climbed up from the floorboard to kneel on the seat, staring back at Gabe who hunched over to glare inside the car.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he blasted.
Jolie shoved both hands on her hips and yelled back, “That it was about damn time I started looking for another man.”
“In that place? Did you want to get raped?”
“I wanted someone to notice me.”
His eyes narrowed to angry slits. “All you have to do is breathe deep to get a man’s attention.”
Jolie realized her bra still gaped open and that Mike was walking up behind Gabe.
“Gonna ride in the back?” he asked Gabe. “Or are we gonna book her?”
“For what?” Jolie said, lifting her chin to dare Mike to stare. “I didn’t break any laws.”
“Gimme a minute,” Mike drawled, his gaze sweep
ing over her chest. “I can start with inciting a riot.”
“Indecent exposure,” Gabe bit out. He slipped into the back seat and slammed the door closed.
Mike spoke into the mike up front, telling dispatch they were taking a break. Then he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Wait!” Jolie said as they entered the road. “Lucy’s still back there.”
“Lucy knows she’s in a heap of shit,” Mike said over his shoulder. “She’s on her way to her car. If she doesn’t pass me in three, we’ll go back for her.”
A car pulled up alongside them, and Jolie stared at Lucy who gave her a cheerful wave and passed them.
She gulped down several deep breaths and slowly turned back to Gabe. His gaze was glued to her nipples. He lifted a finger and traced the edge of the pasty.
His movement was slow. Too slow. And then she saw his hand was shaking.
She raised her head slowly and locked glances with him.
His face was still tight, his lips pressed into a straight, narrow line. His eyes bored into her, his body radiated hot fury. “You did this on purpose. You knew I’d be there.”
She raised her chin. He’d drag the details out of her only if he tortured her. Unfortunately, she had a very low pain threshold.
“Almost there,” Mike called over his shoulder.
A muscle alongside Gabe’s jaw flexed. When the car slid into her apartment parking lot, he held perfectly still, waiting as Mike got out and opened the trunk of the car. The door beside her opened, and Mike handed her a blanket, which she wrapped gratefully around her shoulders.
She’d forgotten how cold it was. The air stung her naked breasts.
Mike opened Gabe’s door, and Jolie decided to make a dash for it, running on the stilettos toward the door, trying to beat him to it. But boots slapped the pavement behind her, closing in.
Gabe grabbed her hand, swung her toward him, ducked, and once again she was reeling as he upended her and carried her toward the door.
“How’d you think you’d get inside?” he growled. “Have a key stashed in your underwear?”
She didn’t like the nasty edge of his voice, but she opted on the side of caution and kept silent. Besides, she could barely catch her breath because she bounced on his hard shoulder as he stomped across the foyer, passed the elevators and stalked up the three flights of stairs.
Bad, Bad Girlfriend Page 5