by Ravenna Tate
“If you’re not going to eat that, I’ll take it.”
“No. I mean, I’m going to eat it. But what the hell makes you think I’m going to sleep with you?”
He chuckled. “We won’t get much sleep.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Rahab moved his stool closer to her and began to eat. “Damn, this is good. Do you know how to cook?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “I was only asking to be polite.”
Rahab ate while she waited for him to say something else, but there was nothing left to say. He wanted her, and he would have her. She wanted him, too. Before this night was over, she’d admit that to him and to herself. End of discussion.
She finally began to eat again as well. “Yes, I do cook. But nothing like this.”
“She’s Sicilian. Rai, that is. Her grandmother or something taught her.”
“My specialty is tortilla Española.”
“What is that?”
“Tortillas made with eggs and potatoes, but you can substitute different things for the potatoes. I like to experiment.”
“That sounds yummy.”
“It is.”
They ate in silence, but Rahab felt the heat coming from her. She was definitely interested. He must remember to thank the firm of Campbell, Pennington, and Krucinski for sending her here with Donny’s papers.
Did she know what they were for, or was she merely the messenger? She hadn’t worked for them very long. He shouldn’t ask, because the Brothers never interfered in Donny’s business dealings outside their club, but his curiosity got the better of him. “So, how much do you know about those papers Donny is reading over?”
“Everything. I typed them.”
That was a surprise. “Do you know what he does?”
“Yes. And I know who Vito Cinquepalmi was. I know he’s dead, and I know all of you plus Donny suspect another Mob boss ordered the hit. I know that those papers he’s editing are the drafts of contracts, that will eventually allow Donny to take over all of Vito’s businesses.”
Rahab leaned his stool back again. “And does any of this bother you?”
“Why should it? A client is a client. I didn’t become a paralegal so I could hang out with perfect people who never have any problems.”
“Where are those people? I’ve never met them.”
She laughed, and his dick grew so fucking rock hard he was in serious pain. “Neither have I.”
That mouth. He had to shove his cock into it tonight. He loved full lips on pretty women, and this was one was a stunner.
“Are you done?” She rose and reached for his plate. Rahab handed it to her, watching as she rinsed off the plates and then washed them by hand. She pointed toward the dish rack. “Should I just stack these here?”
“Sure. That’s fine. You ready to see the club?”
She gave him a long, searching look. Several emotions crossed her face, and he waited patiently through each one. This woman would be his tonight. He knew it as certainly as he knew his own name. “Yes. I’d like to see it.”
Rahab grinned again, but resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air. He led her down the corridor that opened into the club, and stood back while she slowly walked through it, twirling in circles every few seconds as she took it all in.
“It’s not anything like I pictured.”
He leaned against the bar. “What did you picture?”
“Something … I don’t know. Dark. Dirty. With bump and grind music.”
“Each dancer chooses her own music, and it ranges from songs recorded in the seventies and eighties, to songs your kids would know.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Do you have kids, Rahab?”
“Me? No. I’m unattached and intend to keep it that way.”
“You can be unattached and still have kids.”
“Not if you’re careful.”
“Oh, I see. You’re the love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”
“No love involved. Just good, hard fucking with some kinky stuff, if they let me.” The urge to reach into his jeans and adjust his dick was strong. He waited until her back was turned and she was busy checking out the far end of the club to do it, but that still didn’t help. He was ready to burst.
When Philomena, one of the dancers they called Nightingale, came in to rehearse, Liz returned to where Rahab stood, leaning against the bar. “Do we need to leave?” she asked.
“No. You won’t get the full effect of her routine unless you stay for the end of the first set, but you can watch her rehearse if you want. She uses feathers in her routine, and that’s all she wears on stage. They make a hell of a mess, so she has to be the last dancer of the set.”
“Feathers?”
“Yeah. She wears them like clothes. Sticks them to her body with some kind of washable glue. But most of them fall off during her songs, and it takes a while to clean them up.”
The music started, and Phil began to dance, wearing a leotard and her stripper heels. Slowly, Liz’s mouth dropped open slightly, as if surprised by the athleticism she witnessed on stage. What had she expected? Some silly hip thrusts from an old movie?
Phil wasn’t yet as good a dancer as Chloe, but then, no one was. Still, she was coming into her own, along with Kayla and Natalie. “What do you think?” he shouted, over the music.
“She’s amazing. How does she do that on the poles? She looks like she’s flying.”
“I have no fucking clue. I sure couldn’t get my body up there like she does.”
“Seriously doubt I could either.”
“You ever try?”
Her laugh made his dick hard all over again. “Ah, no. Why the feathers? Do they all have a gimmick like that?”
“Not all of them, no. She likes them because of the legend. It’s why we call her Nightingale.”
“What legend is that?”
“Nightingale was an Athenian princess turned into a bird to keep her safe from some king, or something like that.”
“Interesting.”
When Phil finished, she came over and introduced herself to Liz. “What did you think?”
“I loved it. How do you get so high on those poles like that?”
Phil patted her abdomen. “Lots and lots of core strength. You staying to watch the shows?”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”
“She’ll be here,” said Rahab.
“Great.” The house lights began to dim and change color as Jinn, their sound engineer, got everything ready for the customers. “I’ll see you later.”
“We’ll be open soon. Let’s go and see how Donny is coming along on those contracts, but I’m betting he’s not even close to finished.”
“What do you want to bet?”
Rahab grinned. “That’s a loaded question, isn’t it?” As Meghan and the others who would tend bar that night began to file in, Rahab led Liz down the hall and stopped outside the door to Donny’s office.
“Tell you what. If he’s done, you have to stay and watch just one dancer with me, and then it’s your choice whether you stay any longer.”
“How is that an actual bet?”
“I’m not finished. If he’s not done, which I highly doubt he is, you’ll not only stay and watch the first set with me, but we’ll split a bottle of tequila and finish it in my room once Donny has the papers ready for you.”
She laughed again, and his entire body tingled. “Again, that’s not really a bet. What do I get out of this if I’m right? And better yet, what am I supposed to be right or wrong about?”
No one was around, but Rahab wouldn’t have given a shit if they were. He leaned close and kissed her. Just a soft one, which nearly killed him, but she was right there on the edge. And if life had taught him one thing, it was not to push anyone over until they were ready to fall.
“You get me. All night long. Fucking your entire body in every im
aginable way. And I’ll even make sure you’re fed before you leave in the morning with those papers.”
Long moments ticked by while they stared into each other’s eyes. There was a flicker of doubt in there, but it passed by briefly. Rahab never faltered. He gave her the look that had spread countless pairs of legs. He knew his power over women, but he’d never wanted one this badly.
“That is a very intriguing proposition. Let’s see if Donny is done.”
“Is that a ‘yes’?”
Her slow grin unnerved him. “It’s a ‘maybe’.”
Chapter Three
Every nerve ending in Liz’s body was on fire for this man, but it was madness to give in. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know any of these people. Russell might fire her if he found out she’d spent the night here with one of the MC officers. She was on the clock, after all, until she finished typing up Donny’s corrections. Her work on them translated to billable hours. She couldn’t very well count time spent drinking tequila or having sex with Rahab as billable work.
But something about this place fascinated her. It was intoxicating. The music, the dancing, and of course, Rahab. Nothing in Liz’s life had ever been this foreign, this exciting, or this raw and sultry. And she had definitely formed the wrong opinion of strip clubs. Either that, or this particular one was a cut above the rest.
After knocking on the door of the office, they went inside to find Donny only on page eight of thirty. Rahab offered to freshen Donny’s drink, which he declined. “Bring me some water and I’ll be fine. Oh, and some of that cannoli Rai made for dessert.”
“I’ll get it,” said Liz. She needed to get out of this office for a second and collect her thoughts. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t familiar with the layout of the kitchen. She’d figure it out.
Once she found the cannoli, she made a plate for Donny, as well as plates for herself and Rahab. She found a tray and put the cannoli on that so she could balance a few bottles of water in her other arm.
What the hell was she going to do now? Clearly, Donny would be hours with these damn contracts. When she got to the office Monday morning, she was going to give Russell hell for this. Why hadn’t he warned her? What if she’d had plans tonight, like a date?
“Who are you kidding?” she whispered. She hadn’t been on a date in months, not that her supervisor knew that. Now, she’d be stuck here for hours, with the sexiest man she’d ever met. A man who had already seduced her mind with that damn grin and all those muscles.
This wasn’t in her plans. It had taken her years to get her shit together. She had a degree. She had a job she adored. Her life was finally on track, and having casual sex with a biker inside a strip club was most definitely not part of her current path.
After she went back into the office, Rahab and Donny wolfed down their cannoli like they hadn’t eaten in years. It did taste incredible, but still.
The opening of “Closer” by The Chainsmokers could be heard through the walls.
“Oh, that’s one of Kayla’s songs,” said Rahab. “Come on. You don’t want to miss her. She does this really sexy routine to it. You okay in here for now, Donny?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Go. Enjoy the show.”
Liz followed him back into the club. “Kayla is Mastema’s old lady. He’s our Secretary.”
Kayla’s routine wasn’t as polished as Nightingale’s, but she was still very good. Nothing that Liz would be able to do up there, that’s for sure. And Liz loved it that Kayla’s body type was similar to her own. It was empowering to see a curvy, full woman up there, shaking it and so confident.
“What do you think?” he asked, close to her ear. Having him that near gave her goosebumps.
“She’s fabulous!”
The next song was “Rockabye” by Clean Bandit. Liz loved this song, and Kayla made full use of the reggae beat to the song in her routine. Soon, Liz was singing along, snapping her fingers and moving her hips. Rahab danced right next to her, that intoxicatingly sexy grin on his face. He moved really well for such a tall guy, and it made him even more desirable.
Her last song was “Just the Way You Are” by Bruno Mars. It wasn’t a song Liz would have pictured a stripper could dance to, but Kayla rocked it. This was nothing like she’d imagined. By the time the song ended, she couldn’t wait to watch the other dancers, and Donny’s contracts were all but forgotten.
Large glasses that looked like brandy snifters had been placed at various points along the edge of the stage, and at the end of each dancer’s set, one of the members collected the tips that customers placed inside them. Liz asked Rahab what happened to them once they were taken out of the jars.
“They’re given to the dancer right away.”
“They don’t have to share them?”
“Nope. Gorgon feels that if they earn them, they should have them.”
The place was packed, so Liz could only imagine how much money these women were making. More than she did, and she was well-paid.
Nightingale was the last dancer of this set, and it was worth the wait. Seeing her up there wearing only the feathers was amazing. They shimmered in the spotlights, and as she moved, you could definitely see she was naked underneath them, but the peeks were swift. The customers went nuts for it.
She danced to eighties classics like “Turn Me Loose” from Loverboy and “She Bop” by Cyndi Lauper. The crowd still sang along, and she worked it on stage. When her set ended, Liz was surprised at how much time had passed.
Rahab led her back to Donny’s office. The plates were gone. She’d forgotten about them, and wondered who had come in to take them.
“I just finished,” he said, leaning back in his chair to stretch. “Was about to come and find you two.” He handed the papers to Liz. “When will you have these corrections done?”
“By the end of tomorrow.”
“Perfect. You enjoying the show?”
“Yes. It’s amazing.”
“Your first time here?”
“Yes.”
“Nice club, isn’t it?”
“It’s not at all what I expected.”
“Nothing like it unless you go to one of the coasts or Vegas. It’s a special place. That’s why I’m fighting this hard so they don’t lose it.”
“I’ll walk you out, Donny,” said Rahab. “Wait for me in here, Liz.”
“Yeah. Sure.” While she waited, she looked over the corrections. They were extensive, but nothing that would involve a total rewrite. A phrase here or there added or taken out, but mostly simple wording changes that were subtle, but altered the meaning considerably in a few places. Donny knew what he was doing, and had obviously been down this road before.
Vito Cinquepalmi had had his hands in some questionable businesses, but Russell had assured her their firm steered clear of becoming involved in anything barely legal or not legal at all.
How Donny had managed to finagle his way into taking over all these businesses was beyond Liz’s understanding. It wasn’t her place to ask, so she hadn’t. This was a world she knew next to nothing about, but clearly everyone who lived and worked here was comfortable in it.
When Rahab returned, he asked if she was ready for that bottle of tequila.
“I should get to work on these. I told him I’d have them done tomorrow.”
“How long will it take you?”
“I don’t know.” She shuffled through them, wishing her damn hands would stop trembling. “A while.”
“Be more specific.”
His tone of voice and the gleam in his eyes told her he wasn’t fooled by her stalling. This was inevitable. It had been since she’d pulled around to the back and saw him standing there. “No more than two hours, tops.”
“Which means you could do them now and then have all the time in the world to spend with me.”
She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss earlier. It had been quick and chaste, but it had sent her hormones raging and her mind racing with possibilities. Liz dro
pped her gaze to his mouth as erotic images danced through her head.
“Yes,” she said. “I suppose it does. Only I don’t feel like working right now.” She wasn’t in the mood to pull her laptop out of her briefcase and get to work on the corrections. Not even close.
He moved closer as her breathing sped up. It was difficult to focus her thoughts.
“What do you feel like doing, Liz?”
Lots of things. Raw, sexy, decadent things. “I could use that tequila right about now.”
“Finally.” He took her hand, and she nearly laughed at the heat rising up her arm. That wasn’t supposed to happen in real life, was it? They went back into the club where they were setting up the stage for the second set of dancers.
She and Rahab took seats at the end of the bar, and he introduced her to Meghan. “Liz and I need a bottle of Gran Patrón Platinum.”
From the way Meghan raised her brows, Liz assumed Rahab didn’t drink expensive tequila with women very often. “Coming right up.” She went behind the shelves, and when she emerged, she plunked the bottle down on the bar, along with two glasses. “You want salt on the rims and limes?”
“No. We’re not making margaritas with it.” He slid the glasses toward her. “Two shot glasses will be fine.”
“Okay. Sure.” She replaced the glasses.
“This is really expensive stuff,” said Liz. “We can drink something cheaper.”
“Yeah, we could.” Rahab opened it and poured some of the clear liquid into each glass. “But I like this brand.” He pushed a glass toward her. “Swirl it around first.”
“It’s not brandy.”
“Still tastes better that way.”
“He’s right,” said Meghan. “You two enjoy. I have customers.”
Meghan moved down the bar and Liz took a sip, letting the liquid slide down her throat. “Whoa. Smooth. I’ve never had it like this before. Only in a margarita.”