None of the girls. As if she’s just simply one of them. “What is your name, then?” I demand.
“Whatever you want it to be, baby,” she fires back.
My mouth slants disapprovingly. That line doesn’t work for her. My presence here is bothering her. I’m an interference for some reason.
I step closer and slip my phone into my front pocket. “I noticed you don’t seem too bothered to entertain your clients.”
“You seem to notice a lot,” she says, her gaze tracking over me deliberately. “I notice a lot, too. Like the fact that your name isn’t Lawson. Not according to your credit card, Alex.”
A heated spark shoots up my back, a current of electric excitement. She just ticked up the score a notch on her assessment.
“You’re extremely observant,” I say. “Maybe I wasn’t comfortable enough to give my real name, either.”
Her gaze narrows. She doesn’t believe me. “Look. My time is better spent entertaining in private. That’s what my clientele pay for. Which”—she makes it a point to look at my clothes—“I’m sorry to say, is very out of your price range.” She levels me with a severe glare. “You should leave, whoever you are.”
Those eyes…that stare… It’s unnerving.
I lean in toward her and lower my voice to an audible whisper. “You’re not a whore.”
Her blood-red lips tip upward. That smile is disarming. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“You’re not an escort,” I clarify. “What are you, undercover? FBI? Trying to take down an escort ring, underground MMA fights? Or does it have to do with Ericson and his firm?”
The value of a predator is unrecognized, unappreciated. I am not one to take predators for granted. Her skills far outweigh those of one simply offering physical indulgence. Whatever this woman’s purpose here tonight, it’s not to bring pleasure to men. In truth, I’m probably doing Ericson a favor.
Our moment is disrupted as a guy comes around the corner. Lilah uses the opportunity to inch closer to me. Her body presses against mine, her curves mold perfectly to the contour of my form. She’s a distraction in all the wrong ways, and she knows this. She uses her body as a weapon.
“Whatever your kink is,” she says, “I’m not into it. Maybe Sophie or one of the other girls would be interested.”
“I don’t think Sophie is my type.” No—none of them are the type I need. I’ve found what I’m looking for.
The first step in the scientific method is to identify, and I’ve just identified my new subject. A thrill courses my blood as I stare into the eyes of a psychopath.
She’s the one.
“Trust me,” she says. “I’m definitely not your type.” As she turns to walk away, I grab her arm, and that’s a mistake.
The realization comes with a shock—a literal electric shock that sends a pulse of 20,000 volts into my body.
I hit the floor, my body convulses with spasms. I stare up at her, noting the small Taser in her hand too late. Christ. That was unexpected. Every muscle in my body seizes with intense cramps. The sudden and immediate sensation of needing to vomit follows the pain. Then, just as suddenly, the torture subsides.
As my muscles begin to relax, I breathe through the wave to catch my breath, and think about getting to my feet, only my reaction time is delayed. She’s on me in seconds and a biting pinch stings my arm.
The beauty with lethal moves looms over me, those intense green eyes peering down with callous disregard, before the world dims black.
Cock-blocked
Blakely
Asshole.
Dragging a corpse is a lot more difficult than one imagines. The VIP lounge floor is carpeted, making the task of moving this guy’s lifeless body nearly impossible.
No, he’s not dead—but I wouldn’t feel any remorse if the dose had stopped his heart. Just to be certain, I press two fingers to his neck and check for vitals. His heartbeat is steady as it pulses against my fingertips.
I stuff the mini stun gun and syringe into my bag and drop the clutch on top of his chest so I can grab both his ankles. “Come on, you ass—” I yank hard and gain an inch. By the time I get him near the men’s bathroom, I’ve taken too long, but I don’t need Ericson or anyone else discovering him this way. This guy—whoever the hell he is—has already botched tonight pretty good.
Why is he here? What does he want? Who sent him? A previous target bent on revenge? Ericson’s wife checking up on me?