by Janie Crouch
Except, of course, for strategically placed pieces of elastic around their waists or thighs to hold the money the men gave them. And by the looks of it, they were making a lot. The two on the stage certainly were.
Aiden had no problem with any woman who chose to make a living that way. As for what went on in the back rooms . . . There was a lot more lawbreaking going on in this place than just the selling of government secrets. But he wasn’t here to break up a prostitution ring, so he’d just ignore that for now. He’d definitely be mentioning The Barn to Sheriff Nelson once this was done. Let the Teton County Sheriff’s Department handle it.
Aiden sat back in his seat and watched everything going on around him. He just wanted to go home. The tumbler in his hand was filled with water, not the tequila or gin everyone else assumed. He had no interest in lowering his guard. This night was shaping up to be just like all the others since he had gone undercover: too much playtime, too little business. He was getting damned tired of it.
Cline was sitting over at a corner booth, a nearly naked woman on either side of him cooing and playing with him. No doubt pay-to-play was the only way Cline saw action. But instead of enjoying them fawning over him like he usually did, he was staring down at some damned napkin.
Aiden had strolled by earlier to talk to Cline, trying to get a better look at what was keeping the little computer nerd from his normal partying ways. The napkin had symbols written on it, almost gibberish—or some sort of code.
But gibberish to Aiden was obviously something damn important to Cline, the way he was staring at it.
Aiden had talked to the other man for a minute, trying to get any info he could, but he’d had to walk away and leave it alone when Cline got agitated. That was the tricky part about undercover work, balancing the push and pull with the overall goal. Aiden didn’t want to blow his cover over something that might be meaningless.
Hell, everything here tonight seemed pretty meaningless. Like always. Like they were being directed to this particular place as part of a script for a play none of them knew they were characters in.
He was tired. Getting a good night’s sleep in his own bed—for the first time in days—would probably be a more effective use of his time than sitting around here. But first, he had to try to grab Cline’s napkin. He cursed again this group’s paranoia. Everyone had to leave their cellphones and all weapons at the door. No pictures of any wrongdoing.
Or in Aiden’s case, no ability to call for backup if things went to shit.
He needed that napkin. His gut told him it was the key to everything. Aiden always listened to his gut, even when it meant he was going to be stuck in this shithole for more hours as he attempted to gather the needed intel and get that damned napkin. There were five hundred other places he’d rather be. He took a sip of his water and tried to mentally fortify himself for the hours to come.
Then he saw her.
Nothing about her should’ve drawn his attention. She had on a short, white silk robe, so she certainly wasn’t as naked as many of the other women in the room. She wasn’t moving in any seductive way that would draw overt attention to herself. The opposite, in fact. He couldn’t even see her face clearly because she kept looking over at the main door like she might decide to stroll out of it at any second.
Proving she had good judgment.
All he could see was that deep auburn hair falling down around her shoulders. He wanted to see her face. Her eyes.
Hell, if she was going to be one of the dancers on stage, at least it would make this night more bearable.
A guy was holding her arm tightly while talking to a number of other girls. Aiden had met him, but he was pretty low on the totem pole, so Aiden hadn’t spent much time with him. What was the guy’s name? Ross? Rick? Something with an R.
The second man he’d come in with was standing near the door in the shadows, watching everything happening around him. Aiden hadn’t met him at all, just glimpsed him a few times. The man never talked much to anyone. Maybe he was just Randy’s muscle.
Randy. That was the guy’s name.
The women Randy had brought in with him—all in various states of undress—had scattered after a word from him, looking for buyers of their wares: lap dances or more. Only the redhead had stayed with him. Probably because he had yet to release her arm.
Aiden still hadn’t seen her face. He was surprised at how fiercely he desired to do so. He forced himself to look away from the woman to check on Cline. The geek still sat in his booth, sulking, staring at that damned napkin.
That piece of paper was the objective. Not some woman, no matter how sexy that hair and lush body might be, her curves barely covered by the short robe. Aiden forced himself to angle his chair so he had a better view of Cline and less of the redhead.
But a disturbance from her direction drew his attention back a few minutes later. Randy had pushed her up on a little mini stage surrounded by four or five men in chairs, drinks in their hands. Her robe was now off her shoulders, the garment only staying on her body because of the tightly knotted belt at her waist. Delicious, plump breasts were partly visible under the cascade of hair.
Her gaze was still glued to the ground, hair covering her face.
Randy obviously wanted the woman to dance or entertain the men—to make money—but even when, face mottled in anger, he grabbed her chin forcefully and said something Aiden couldn’t hear, the woman still didn’t move.
Randy reached for the belt of her robe and gave it a tug. It came loose, and the robe floated to the ground at her feet, leaving her completely naked.
Aiden couldn’t turn away. Her waist was small before curving out to softly feminine hips. Her legs were perfectly full, no sort of ridiculous thigh gap younger women were so often obsessed with.
Aiden had traveled all over the world in the army and seen all types of female shapes and sizes. As a result, he liked a woman soft, with curves that enticed him to stay and play for a while.
This one was damn near perfect, in his opinion. One hundred percent beautiful, lush woman.
But instead of teasing the men with her nakedness or showing it off, she immediately dropped down and yanked her robe in front of her, covering herself.
Randy looked like he was going to lose his shit completely as he snatched it away again. The men around him chuckled, and one called out encouragement to the woman, just angering Randy more. He fisted her hair in his hand and yanked her head back.
Aiden was on his feet immediately when he finally saw her face.
This woman was in trouble.
She didn’t look like the other girls. She may be naked like them, but everything else about her screamed she didn’t belong here. She had neither the jaded, worldly look that some of the dancers had, nor the blank, empty stare that blanketed the features of the others.
The look in this woman’s eyes was clear: terror.
Randy said something in her ear that leached away whatever color she’d had in her face. Then she nodded, and the hand that had been grabbing for the robe he held out of her reach dropped back down to her side.
Frustration coursed through Aiden. There was nothing he wanted to do more than march over to the woman, grab her, and get her out of here. He wasn’t sure what was going on, maybe someone had talked her into this, or maybe something much worse, but she shouldn’t be here. Not with that look in her eyes.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t go over there and play white knight when the persona he’d been so painstakingly building was of a criminal and a traitor to his own country. Aiden Teague, weapons smuggler, was not someone who gave a shit if some young girl was scared.
And she was young. Couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three to his thirty-three.
But if he made the move every instinct in him was screaming to do—which included putting Randy in the hospital for manhandling her—all his undercover work would be for nothing.
People might die if that happened.
So just l
ike he had when missions had gone wrong in the army, Aiden improvised. Because there was no way in hell he was going to ignore what was happening to this woman. He walked directly over to Randy.
“How much for the whole night?” He forced a calm, almost bored tone he definitely didn’t feel.
Her eyes, a ridiculously bright green now that he was close enough to see them, widened before her gaze dropped to the floor. Tremors were starting to rack her shapely body, and he hated the words he was forced to say.
All he knew was that she was safer with him than she would be with anybody else in this entire building.
One of the men who had been watching her on the stage protested about Aiden getting her for the whole night, but Aiden ignored him.
Randy yanked her closer, almost causing her to stumble.
“Aiden.” Randy smiled like they were old friends. “You’re into the redheads, huh? Yeah, she’s for sale, but not for the whole night. She’s only here for two hours. And sorry, buddy, but she doesn’t fuck. No sex.”
The man who had protested scoffed and left, the others following. There were too many women here available for sex to get in a bidding war over one who wasn’t.
Randy was still yanking on her hair, holding her head at an awkward, painful angle. Aiden was pretty certain he was going to have to break that hand at some point.
But right now, he just forced himself to pull on his undercover role. “No sex? That sounds pretty boring. Or like one of you might be some sort of cop.”
The guy laughed a little nervously. “Whoa, man, no need to go all Sherlock on me. Nobody is a cop, you know that. And just because there’s no sex doesn’t mean it has to be boring.” Randy pushed her forward. “Look at her. I’m sure you can think of other body parts to use to make it interesting.”
His grip on her hair was forcing the woman’s face up, but she wasn’t looking at Aiden. Her eyes were darting all over the place. And her trembling was a full-on shaking now. She was close to a breakdown. He wasn’t sure what would happen if she lost it right here, but it wouldn’t be pretty.
He needed to get her away from Randy and figure out what was going on.
“That’s true. Lots of options.” He forced himself to give Randy a wink. “But I want her for the whole time she’s here. I don’t share, so no one else touches her. So how much?”
They settled on a price. Not much more than Aiden would have paid to take a woman out for a nice night on the town. Randy was obviously glad to get anything at all. Aiden didn’t care; he just wanted to get the woman away from him before she collapsed.
“Remember, no sex,” Randy said, running a finger along her neck. She shuddered again. “And no marks or bruises either.”
Aiden looked down at the bruises that were already marring the skin on her breasts. Finger-shaped bruises. He smothered the rage threatening to overwhelm him. Losing his temper now wouldn’t help her situation. He gestured to her breasts with his hand.
“Looks like someone already got around to bruising your merchandise.” More forced boredom.
Randy winced, then grinned a little as he leered at her breasts. He’d obviously been the one to put those marks on her creamy flesh.
Aiden would definitely be breaking this man’s hand. Probably more.
Randy waggled one eyebrow. “She must bruise easily. Just no more marks, okay?”
Aiden let out a sigh. “I don’t want to have to pay for the dings somebody else put on the rental. So don’t be pissed and try to blame these on me in a few hours.”
Hopefully, Aiden would have her out of here in a few hours. As soon as he could get her alone to talk, he could ask her if she was here under duress.
Aiden gave him the money and raised his eyebrow when the guy still didn’t take his fist out of her hair. “You planning on joining us? If so, I want my money back.”
Randy yanked the woman close and whispered something in her ear, then finally let her go, pushing her toward him. “Like I said, she’ll be leaving in two hours. Enjoy.”
Trying to keep himself between her naked body and the rest of the men in the room, Aiden led her back to the rooms Randy directed them to. What exactly he was going to do with her, he had no idea.
Chapter 3
Remember, I’m listening to everything you say. Everything.
Randy’s whispered words in her ear finally put Violet over the edge. She’d held it together in the cage in that dark truck for the eternity it had taken to get here. She’d tried to talk to the other women in the vehicle with her, but they’d ignored her.
She’d held it together, even through her chills, as Randy had walked her inside the building along with the other women. Having on that robe he’d tossed at her as he pulled her out of the cage and truck had neither reassured her nor gotten her any warmer.
“Make money,” he’d said to the other women once he got them across the room. “Or no prize.”
Violet had no idea what the prize was, but evidently the thought of not getting it was truly upsetting to the women. One had begun to cry and rub her arms before another had stopped and tried to comfort her in another language. Then they’d scattered.
Randy’s use of short direct words made Violet wonder if perhaps none of the women spoke English. That would also explain why they wouldn’t talk to her in the truck.
Violet had no idea where they were, and although she was thankful The Barn wasn’t literally a barn, she was under no misconception that this place was safe. It seemed to be some sort of private strip club or something.
Dillon had just stood inside the door and stared at her, arms crossed over his chest. His dark gaze was almost as menacing as Randy’s wandering hands. She could almost feel the quiet evil radiating off of him.
Then Randy had pulled her over to the little stage and told her to dance. Violet would’ve laughed if she weren’t afraid it might turn into some hysterical cackle she wouldn’t be able to control. She was an engineer, for God’s sake. She didn’t know how to dance at all, much less do some sort of sexy strip tease.
Yanking down her robe just caused her to freeze further. She’d kept her gaze on the floor rather than the leering men all around her.
When Randy had ripped it off her completely, she’d dropped and pulled it up over her torso before she could even weigh the wisdom of that move.
“If you don’t make some money, I’m going to be the one getting my money’s worth from you later tonight, in ways I promise will be much worse than a couple of lap dances,” Randy whispered in her ear as he yanked the robe away, leaving her completely naked once again.
The chills worked their way through her body again. She tried to force them back, to think through the numbing fear starting to overwhelm her. There was a buzzing in her ears and she clamped her teeth down on the gum that had long since lost its taste.
She couldn’t dance for these men. Just staying upright took every bit of her concentration. If she passed out, only God knew what would happen to her body. But her breaths were coming in short, panicked gasps, blackness engulfing more and more of her vision.
“How much for the whole night?”
Randy’s painful yank on her hair and the deep voice pulled her back from the abyss she’d been about to fall into. Yet she still took in the conversation between Randy and the tall, dark-haired man who’d come over to buy her like it was from a distance. The chills coursing through her body turned into shudders.
She once again managed not to laugh hysterically as Randy insisted on no sex. What, was this guy going to dry hump her like Randy had? Somehow she didn’t think so.
This guy was so much more deadly than Randy. Not because of his size or muscles. It was the aura around him. Maybe not sinister, but definitely dangerous.
Violet tried to keep it together, tried to stem the hysteria bubbling up inside of her, but it was too late now. No thoughts of lemon zest were going to save her psyche this time. Randy and the man exchanged money, and Randy whispered his threat before p
ushing her toward the dangerous man, keeping her robe.
The man was leading her somewhere, but Violet didn’t know where. She couldn’t seem to control her body, and the room was slowly starting to spin around her.
She heard a noise that sounded out of place, some sort of high-pitched cry. A keen, almost animal-like. And it was getting louder.
Maybe this place really was a barn, and some poor animal was getting slaughtered.
It wasn’t until the dangerous man spun around and pressed her naked body up against the wall that she realized that it was her making the sound.
His hand slid into her hair, but it wasn’t brutal like Randy’s had been. He pulled her face against his chest, cutting off the noise.
She should be appalled, should pull away. But all her brain could seem to process was the soft warmth of his black T-shirt against her face. It was the gentlest thing she’d felt in days.
“Hang in there, Firefly. Just until we get to the private room.”
His voice was deep and low in her ear. His arms were around her body, not trapping her, but supporting her. Right now, they were the only things keeping her upright.
“Take a few deep breaths with me. In. Out. No one can see you.”
As the spinning stopped and strength returned to her legs, she realized he was telling the truth. The way he had positioned their bodies, no one could see her at all with him pushed up against her. Not that anybody was watching anyway. There were a lot more interesting things to see here than one woman about to pass out.
She had no idea why this man was being kind to her—he had just spent money to use her in any way he wanted except intercourse, and the clock was already ticking—but she couldn’t make herself move away.
His arms stayed wrapped around her loosely, not forcing her to remain near him if she wanted to move away. He was shielding her, and God, she needed that, just for a second.
“There you go,” he murmured again. “Find your center. You can do this.”