by Snow, Jenika
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2013 Jenika Snow
ISBN: 978-1-77130-510-5
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To everyone that has supported me along the way. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
THE LION AND THE LAMB
Jenika Snow
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
“I can’t work at a strip club, Kiki.” Tatum would have laughed out loud at her best friend’s suggestions if she didn’t know without a doubt Kiki was being dead serious.
“And why not?” Kiki gave a little huff of irritation.
“Well.” Tatum cut the rest of the watermelon and tossed it into the bowl. “For one thing it’s a strip club.” She said those two words like they were the dirtiest thing imaginable, and she instantly felt the air chill. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Kiki cross her arms under her huge breasts and scowl.
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” The indignation in Kiki’s voice was crystal clear. Tatum sighed and tuned around.
She placed her hands on Kiki’s shoulders and said, “You know I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just…” Tatum sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Do I look like someone who would be prancing around a strip club?” When she looked back at her best friend she could see a smile touch Kiki’s red painted, Botox injected lips.
“First of all, it’s a gentleman’s club.” Tatum rolled her eyes. She refrained from pointing out that gentleman’s club was just a fancy and expensive name for house full of strippers. “Second of all, if you wanted to dance you so could. You definitely have the body for it.”
Tatum held up her hands. “No, no, no. I do not want to dance, and I most definitely do not have the body for it.”
“Whatever. We are so not going there again.” Kiki picked up the bowl of fresh fruit. She turned away and started walking out of the kitchen, talking as she went. “Besides, the position that is open is for a waitress, not a dancer.” Tatum had no choice but to follow her.
She grabbed the paper plates on her way out the door. The outside patio of Kiki’s home was like some kind of oasis. A small Koi fish pond sat off to the side and surrounded by greenery and a trickling waterfall. A pool was situated on the far end of the yard, the color an unrealistic blue, but looking refreshing nonetheless. The covered deck held the table that Beau and Kiki filled with grilled meats and side dishes. The heat of a Las Vegas evening in July was close to the surface of the sun. Beads of perspiration started to cover the back of Tatum’s neck as the dry heat slammed into her. Sitting on one of the chairs, she watched Kiki wrap her arms around, Beau who stood behind the grill. Smoke billowed around him as he laughed softly at something Kiki murmured to him. Coming over to eat dinner with Beau and Kiki every Sunday evening with the norm anymore. Tatum had known her since they were bratty, pimply teenage girls. Beau had come into the picture the year they turned twenty. That had been five years ago, and even after all that time Kiki and Beau acted like teenagers in love for the first time.
Tatum did this a lot—just watched them interact with each other. They were so intense together. Maybe it was a bit creepy that she watched them, but she liked to see the person she cared about most in the world happy. Her own love life was nonexistent, and aside from a few boyfriends after she graduated high school, she had been alone.
“I told Tater that she should go apply for the waitress position at the Lion.” Kiki sashayed back to where Tatum was seated.
She refrained from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous nickname Kiki had given her when they were kids. It did no good asking her to stop calling her a vegetable, because Kiki did whatever the hell she wanted. Beau turned and brought over a heaping plate of more meat. There was already enough on the table to feed an army, but then again Beau was built like a soldier.
“I think that’d be sweet. That way I can watch over both of you.” Beau’s deep voice was like an instant fire-starter. At well over six feet tall and layered with thick muscle, Beau wasn’t someone to mess with. He had a head full of auburn hair that fell to his shoulders and only intensified his dangerous persona. Most of the time he kept it in a tight, short ponytail at the nape of his neck, especially when he was at work, but at home he let those silky locks hang free. His body was corded with muscle, and the tribal tattoos that wove their way up his arms added to the whole intimidating factor.
Kiki had started working at The Lion and the Lamb two years ago. She certainly had the body and moves to be a “dancer” there. Beau had gotten a job as a bouncer shortly after Kiki started her employment there. Even now Tatum suppressed her laugh as she remembered the way he went all caveman when he found out his girlfriend worked at a strip club. Surprisingly though, he was relatively okay with Kiki being there, but most likely because he could keep an eye on the drunks and their grabby hands.
“I just don’t think working at a ‘gentleman’s club’ is really something I’d like.” She didn’t look at Kiki because she knew her friend would be staring daggers at her. Instead, she started piling fruits and veggies onto her plate. The table was silent, and she chanced a glance up. Of course they were both staring at her.
“I thought you said you were sick of being the cigarette girl at the Flamingo?”
Tatum exhaled and leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, I am, but I don’t think working as a waitress at a strip club is much of an upgrade.”
“Gentleman’s club,” Beau said through a mouthful of food.
“Whatever.” Tatum speared her fork into a chunk of watermelon and shoved it in her mouth.
“You’d be making triple what you make now. Just think of how fast you can get out of debt.”
Tatum dropped her fork and rubbed her hands over her eyes. Of course Kiki was right. With her mother passing away last year and her mom leaving her a ratty house and debt up to her neck, Tatum was the sole person responsible for fixing everything. It didn’t help that she had no other family to rely on for help. Kiki was like a sister to her, but Tatum refused to take money from Kiki.
Tatum didn’t mind stepping up and getting things cleared up, but when the majority of that debt stemmed from drinking and gambling, it made dealing with everything so much harder.
“I don’t know, Kiki.” The opportunity sounded great, and even though carrying around a tray with cigarettes to gamblers wasn’t the most lucrative of jobs, it had kept her afloat until she did feel like she was drowning in late notices and past due letters, courtesy of her mother. She looked at Kiki and saw a sheepish look cross her face.
“What? What did you do?” At least Kiki had the courtesy of looking embarrassed by whatever she was about to admit, which couldn’t be good.
“I actually already set up an interview with Mr. Castill.”
“Ugh!” Tatum speared her hands in her hair and tugged on the strands. The dark locks slipped through her fingers easily, but she really wanted to rip them out. “Why would you do that?”
Kiki rolled her eyes. “Quit being so dramatic. A lot of girls are applying for that position, but you have an insider to help you nab it. Why wouldn’t I help my best girl out?” Tatum knew Kiki only tri
ed to help, and she loved her for it, she really did, but sometimes Kiki took matters into her own hands when they were better left alone.
“Your interview is tomorrow at noon.” Tatum made a noise in the back of her throat. “Oh, and make sure to wear something sexy that shows your killer cleavage and curves.” Kiki wagged her eyebrows and grinned.
“I’m not going.”
Kiki knitted her brows in what Tatum knew to be frustration. “You’re going to go, because if you don’t you’re going to make me look bad in front of my boss.” She got a smug look on her face. “Is that what you want to do?”
Ugh! Damn her! “You know damn well I don’t want that.”
Kiki clapped her hands together, and her smile widened. “Great! Noon, don’t forget.”
Like Tatum would forget. This would either be the best thing that happened to her or the worst. She had a feeling it was the latter, though.
Lord, help her.
Chapter Two
The interior of The Lion and the Lamb was ostentatious. Tatum had seen plenty of strip clubs working in Vegas, but this place topped anything she had ever seen before. A large stage with a pole sat in the center of the room. A bar was on the right of that, the counter curving in a crescent shape with gleaming counters and top shelf liquor lining the mirrored wall. A second level showcased more intimate tables that looked down at the “main attraction area.” The main floor was huge with dark carpet, lush leather chairs, and intimate lighting. The whole place screamed of class and sophistication, which almost seemed like an oxymoron since half naked women was the selling point.
At that time of time she only saw one person actually working, and that was a gorgeous blonde with a chest so large Tatum wondered if she could see her feet. The woman didn’t pay her any attention, just continued to stock the back of the bar with bottles of alcohol. She felt increasingly uncomfortable just standing in the middle of the deserted strip club.
“You must be Miss Weatherton?”
The deep drawl behind her had her heart instantly pounding and chills forming along her arms. Turning around, Tatum felt her breath stall as she looked at the imposing man before her. His shoulders were as wide as a linebacker’s, all broad and strong and irresistible. Those incredible shoulders tapered down to a hard stomach and narrow hips. All of that hard muscle was sheathed in a white button-down shirt, which did nothing to hide what lay beneath. His legs were incased in a pair of designer jeans, the denim molding to his tree trunk sized thighs. She let her eyes travel back up the length of him and settle on his face. Eyes the color of the Caribbean stared back at her. The way he watched her was very knowing, like he could see into her mind and knew exactly what she thought. Heat started to travel up her neck and settled in her cheeks. The only problem was it wasn’t from embarrassment, but from arousal.
“Miss Weatherton?” One blond eyebrow cocked, and she felt herself grow even warmer. Now she felt humiliation take place of her desire. Despite her embarrassment for blatantly checking out this stranger, she couldn’t stop where her thoughts were headed. His blond hair hung loosely and brushed the top of his collar. He wasn’t one of the pretty boys who walked up and down the strip, their tans artificial and their smiles bleached. The man standing before her was rugged and dangerous, and the air around him became electrically charged.
She swallowed and clutched her purse tighter. “H—” Ugh, she acted like she had never seen a gorgeous man before. Straightening her shoulders she forced a smile and pushed back her ridiculous and lustful thoughts. “Hello. You must be Mr. Castill?” The corner of his mouth twitched in suppressed amusement, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived. He strode toward her, and she felt herself take a step back. He lifted that damn beautiful brow again, and she forced herself to keep her cool.
“Please, call me Leo.” He lifted her hand before she could object and brought it to his mouth. His lips were full and soft, and when he brushed them against the back of her hand she could have sworn she felt the roughness of his tongue stroke her. Before he dropped his hand she caught sight of a ring around his pinky finger. She had never much thought jewelry on a man was attractive, but he worked it. He gestured for her to have a seat in one of the leather chairs.
Feeling out of place didn’t even begin to describe what went through her at that moment. He sat in the seat across from her, his long, thick legs slightly parted as he relaxed into the leather. He slung his arms over the back of the chair and regarded her silently. This man could make her feel so unnerved with just a look. Fortunately, he didn’t make her squirm for too long.
“So, Tatum, may I call you Tatum?” The corner of his mouth curved up in a devilish smile. Why he even asked was beyond her. A man like him did whatever the hell he wanted.
“Sure.”
His smile grew. “Kiki tells me you’re in need of employment?” At her nod he continued. “Do you have any special skills that you would bring to the Lion and the Lamb?”
For some reason she thought he’d ask her to strip down and ride the pole as part of his interview process, but the fact he wanted to know her skills instead of her bra size had her feeling a little more at ease.
“Well.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “I have great people skills. I kind of have to work the floor at the Flamingo.” When she lifted her head she became caught in his icy blue stare.
“Go on, Tatum.”
Gawd! The way he said her name was like the smoothest, sweetest chocolate. Her nipples hardened, and she prayed he couldn’t see the way her body betrayed her. “I, uh…” She became speechless and shifted in her seat. “Since graduating high school I’ve always worked in the casinos, as one trade or another.”
“And that’s what you like?” His question caught her off balance.
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” She shifted again.
“You enjoy working at low paying jobs that put you constantly around drunken men who most likely molest you on a daily basis?” All amusement left from him, and the man sitting before her looked frightening calm.
“I…” How was she supposed to respond? She should have been offended by his statement, but Tatum was in a little bit of awe that this man had described every single shift she worked. She hated her job, and longed to go back to school, to actually do something with her life that meant something.
“What is it that you really want out of life, Tatum? You have to want more than this.” He waved his hand around the club, and she felt her face heat.
How in the hell had this interview turned into a look at her personal needs and wants? She should have told him to fuck off and stormed away—that asking questions that delved too deep would likely blow up in his face. “I don’t think this is proper interview etiquette.” Despite the words coming from her, they were empty and held no real heat.
“Why don’t you just answer the question?” He sounded steady, but she could hear a slight hint of amusement laced through them.
“Are you always this pushy and demanding?” Pulling her shoulders back, she really didn’t like someone wanting to see more than what there was. She stood and tightened her hold on her purse. “Thank you for your time, but I think this was a bad idea.” She turned, but before she could take another step his steely voice stopped her.
“Sit down, Miss Weatherton.” He didn’t say it rudely, just demanding, like he got what he wanted no matter what. Tatum found herself wanting to argue, but there was no need to be disrespectful, no matter how unnerved Leo made her. She sat back down, and a satisfied smirk crossed his face. She fought the need to scowl at him and instead gritted her teeth. For several long moments neither spoke, and the only noise in the room was of the clanking of bottles as the woman behind the bar put them on the shelf.
“Tatum, let me ask you something.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. She couldn’t help but watch the muscles under his flesh bunch as he got into position. “It’s clear working at an establishment like this isn’t something y
ou care much for, so why agree to come for the interview?” Had she been that transparent that this stranger had picked up on her discomfort in the short time she had been in his presence?
“Listen, I’ll be completely honest.” She took a deep breath and met his stare head on. “I know Kiki set this up, and as much as I appreciate the opportunity, I just don’t know if I’m cut out for this kind of work.”
“And what kind of work is that, Miss Weatherton?” He didn’t reveal anything in his expression.
“Kiki said this position was for a waitress, but I’m not stupid enough to think that job wouldn’t entail ‘entertaining’ the cliental.” Lifting her chin slightly, she continued to hold his stare. For several long moments he didn’t say anything, just continued to watch her. He steepled his fingers in front of his face and watched her.
“Let’s just say I offered you a job as the hostess.” He dropped his hands, and something flickered behind his eyes. He leaned forward, so close that she could smell the sweet, yet spicy aroma of whatever cologne he wore. “I can guarantee no male would lay his hands on you.” The husky roughness of his voice sent tingles in all the right places. A growl laced within his words. He sounded animalistic and hardened and had her thinking all kinds of filthy things.
Despite her mind telling her to get a handle on her shit, her body became even more aroused. She could have taken his comment as a compliment, but she wasn’t a fool. Women like her, full figured in all the places that weren’t exactly attractive, didn’t catch the eye of potential buyers in this industry. Men like Leo Castill wanted women who were tall and lithe, with big fake tits, implanted asses, and bleached hair. She was the complete opposite of that. Dropping her gaze to her lap, she inhaled slowly through her nose.