“But I don’t know you,” I said softly, feeling for my gun like it was a nervous tic—it wasn’t, I don’t get nervous that easily. “I’m not asking much. I only want you to take off your clothes so I can search you.”
Her face flushed pink, the color bringing out her freckles. The tiny piercing in the corner of her nose glinted when she scowled. “Oh? That’s all? Well then, gee, I—no! Get Thorne. I’ve been here for three years, I’ve seen plenty of bad shit and never said a word before. I deserve better than this!”
With clean precision I slid the tip of my pistol between us. There wasn’t much space as it was; I’d set up my little “check station” in the corner of the dressing room farthest from the door. The beaten-up and vandalized lockers the girls stored their everyday clothes in were keeping the waitress from bolting one direction.
My body prevented the other.
“Hey,” she said, flicking her brown eyes to the weapon, then back to me. I was surprised she held my stare so evenly. Few people could. “Can’t we be nice about this?”
“Do I seem nice?” I asked.
“No.” The edge of her mouth went up in an out-of-place smile. “And I thought your brother was the asshole of your family.”
When I was younger, that would have hurt. But I’d been called far worse things for over ten years. “I’m not playing around. Clothes off. Now.”
She stood taller. It brought her chin close to mine, I could smell the sweetness of her skin. I’d expected typical stripper smell, but this wasn’t cotton candy and baby powder. This was something . . . richer. Like the inside of a treasure chest: metal and leather. I didn’t know any women who smelled like that. It was familiar in a way that nagged me.
Her voice was low and anything but soft. “If you’re going to see me naked, you should know my name.”
“You don’t need to be naked, your bra and panties are—”
She spoke over me. “Scotch. My name is Scotch.” Again, her piercing shone from how hard she scrunched her nose. “And you? You’re Costello, right?”
I expected her to know my name. After all, my family owned every single strip club in this city, including the one we were standing in. “If you don’t take your clothes off, I’m going to take them off for you.”
Scotch peered at me. I wondered if she doubted my promise. If she was smart, she wouldn’t. To keep me, my brother, and our new relationship with the Deep Shots safe, I’d do whatever it took. If that included stripping a waitress who refused to prove her allegiance, so be it.
She turned away and faced the lockers and curled her nails under her shirt, peeling it up so it exposed her back to me. “Get this over with. I have drinks to serve upstairs.”
Tucking the gun into my jacket, I said, “Smart girl.” I bent close, and that damn scent hit me again, confusing me and making me dizzy. Fighting through it, I brushed my hands over her skin, reaching around to feel for anything hidden on her stomach.
Scotch trembled, her heart kicking at my chest through her spine. She was warm as a perfect cup of tea, smooth as ivory. I was supposed to be feeling for a wire but I couldn’t stop thinking about how good she felt. How solid and strong and fucking soft, all at once.
When I trailed my fingertips over her hips toward her skirt, she inhaled through her nose. It wasn’t a scared sound—it was too thick. Static passed between us and together we stiffened.
She asked me, “Why are you going so slow?”
Sweat crept over my brow. “I’m not. I’m being precise.”
“Oh?” and it came out like a purr. “How’s this for precise?” I pride myself on my speed, but this woman rammed her ass right against the front of my slacks before I could dodge. I’m not sure I would have dodged.
My blood raced, battling with the excitement that was curling in my lower belly. How had this simple task become such a game of wills? How was this damn stranger getting under my skin so quick? Get your shit together! I reprimanded myself. Scotch was grinning, I could see it even with her face turned away.
She wanted to play.
I didn’t. Or I did, but . . . no. I didn’t. I had a job to do.
Snatching her wrists, I pressed her hands above her head on the lockers so hard that the green metal rattled. Over it all, I heard her surprised gasp and endured a thrill from it. “Not the wisest move you could have made,” I whispered in her ear.
“Wait,” she said quickly, struggling to face me. I didn’t let her. “Hold on. What are you doing?”
Binding her hands in one of mine, I hooked the top of her skirt with my other. “What I promised I’d do from the start.” I pulled it lower, a mere inch, showing me the fishtail of her black thong. My cock swelled painfully. “Taking your clothes off for you.”
She was breathing heavily, her heart ramming audibly against her ribs. My mouth was a tingling mess, and my senses were getting fried. But no matter how this girl was turning me on—and fuck, she really was—I was done playing games.
It didn’t matter if Scotch was terrified.
What she wanted paled when it came to keeping my family safe.
Once upon a time, I would have been a king.
Now?
I’m just a monster.