Yeah... my attraction for her goes way deeper than just her sex appeal, which is through the fucking roof. I search my memory and can't think of a single woman I've ever been with that I wanted more than I want her. I can't fucking help it... she's a temptation that while I can't have, I still desire very much. While I'm anxious to get this job over and get back to my life in the Outer Banks, I'm most anxious to actually part ways with Andrea so I don't have to suffer from wanting that proverbial cookie in the cookie jar that I know I really can't have.
"What's the game plan if you can't get information to me in time?" Mike asks, and this is something I've given some thought to over the last few days.
"I'm going to meet with Andrea tonight and discuss it. I'll have both of us armed. Simon's entrusted me to ensure she's drugged properly. Then we're just going to hope the element of surprise and quickly drawn guns works."
"Clearly, that won't be a problem if you can alert me to where the sale will take place. I can have a tactical team in place, but you two may have to do this on your own. At the very least, I can follow your GPS signal as long as there's no jammer in use, and we can move in after you become stationary. Set up nearby but probably not close enough to help if things go sour quickly."
Yeah, by sour he means if a shootout ensues. He could be half a block over and that wouldn't be close enough to beat speeding bullets. This, I knew and accepted.
This could end badly for Andrea and me but that's part of what you accept as a cop.
"Let's just hope I can get you some details. If not, from what I gather, it's just going to me, Simon, and Lance at the exchange with the buyer. The unknown is whether the buyer will have anyone with him."
"Do the best you can, Wyatt," Mike says. "We're almost there, buddy. It's almost over."
"Almost over," I concur. "I better get back in the club. Hope to talk to you soon, man."
I disconnect and start toward the back door when my beeper goes off. Glancing down, I see the message.
Customer complaint. VIP 5.
"Fuck," I mutter to myself as I unlock the back door and step inside. "Just another day at the office."
I make my way through the club, past the stage where two of the dancers are grinding against each other. My eyes sweep the area, looking for Andrea. She danced about twenty minutes ago and wouldn't be back on for a while. She was probably in the back changing into something so she could serve drinks until her next number.
I jog quickly up the stairs, turn left, and head down to VIP Room Number 5.
After giving a soft knock to announce my presence, I open the door and step inside. My blood immediately boils when I take in Andrea, naked but clutching a discarded corset over her crotch with her other arm covering her breasts. She looks fearful as she glances at me and then back at another man in the room.
My stomach tightens when I see Peter Cantz, one of Simon's best friends and closest criminal allies. Lance told me once that he is heavy into the gun trade and he scratches Simon's back with cut-rate deals on arms and munition, while Simon repays the favor by offering him in on his meth operation.
He's a frequent visitor at The Platinum Club, and is one of the heaviest spenders.
My gut tightened when I first saw him because every time he visits, he ends up fucking one of the girls. He pays well because he always wants the dirtiest kind of kink, and he always walks away a happy man.
"Peter," I say in a friendly tone as I walk over to him with my hand outstretched. "Is there a problem?"
He shakes my hand and gives me a tight smile. "Bitch over there isn't willing to play. I put three hundred in her hand, and then she went all shy virgin on me."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I think back to that relief I felt when I realized Simon wouldn't have an opportunity to get at Andrea, and it's completely gone. I thought Simon was the only threat and never in a million years thought Andrea would be in any other type of danger while working here. Sure... a lot of Simon's girls fuck the patrons for money in these VIP rooms, but that business is all very closely regulated by me. Because I am the one that approves which customers are allowed in on this action and the one that approves which girls whore themselves out, I just never worried that this would touch Andrea. The plan was for her to be one of the four or five girls that work here that don't sell their bodies, and it was something that I just didn't worry about.
Apparently... that was a critical error in not taking it more seriously.
Putting on my most apologetic and sheepish look, I say, "Sorry, man... Nikki here is new. She's not aware of that part of the business."
Peter's face flushes red with anger. "She's fucking aware of it now. I gave her my money and told her I want to fuck her bent over the couch. How much clearer does it have to be for her?"
"I'm sorry, Peter," I say in apology but in a much-firmer tone. "She's not part of that business. Simon entrusted me with making sure that all the girls are properly vetted for this line of work, and Nikki hasn't been approved. Let me get another girl up here--"
"No fucking way," Peter roars. "I want that bitch, and you know Simon doesn't deny me anything."
"Raze," I hear Andrea say from behind me and by the tone of her voice, I know what she's getting ready to do.
I give Peter my back and turn to look at her. I pin her with a glare that says, Shut the fuck up, and her mouth slams closed.
"Let's go," I say to her firmly, and she starts walking toward me. When she gets near enough, I reach out to grasp her arm and push her toward the door. Looking back at Peter, I say, "I'll send another girl up."
Peter opens his mouth to argue, so I continue, "In fact, I'll send two girls up, and it will be on the house. You can have them all night."
He's no dummy, and from what I understand, quite the savvy businessman, so I'm not surprised when his mouth closes and he gives me a nod of acquiescence.
"I'll send up a bottle of Chivas for you as well. That's your favorite, right?"
Again, he nods, and I exhale a quiet breath of relief as I pull out my phone and dial. Leon picks up. "Send Misty and Layla up to VIP 5 as well a bottle of Chivas. Charge it to the house."
I don't even wait for Leon's answer, disconnecting and pushing Andrea out of the door. When I close it behind me, I turn my back on her.
"Get dressed," I tell her.
I hear her rustling into her clothing and after a few minutes, she steps around me and looks at me with censure. "You didn't have to do that. You could have jeopardized--"
"Not another word," I growl at her as I take her by the arm again.
I escort her firmly toward the staircase that leads down into the club but before we can start our descent, I see Lance walking up toward us.
"What's going on?" he asks in a tight voice as his eyes flick back and forth between Andrea and me. "Manny said that Peter was in VIP 5 and had a complaint."
"I took care of it," I say as I watch Lance continue to walk up toward us.
"I won't ask again," Lance says in a dangerous snarl right to my face. "What the fuck was the problem?"
Andrea tenses up beside me, and I stroke my thumb on the inside of her upper arm in reassurance. "Peter paid her money and wanted to fuck her. She said no, and he got pissed. I told him she wasn't a part of the--"
I'm cut off as Lance lunges past me and grabs ahold of Andrea's other arm. "Fucking snooty-ass bitch thinks she's too good. Is that it?"
Lance rips Andrea away from my grasp and starts pulling her down the stairs. "Send someone else up to Peter," he calls out over his shoulder.
I bound down the stairs quickly behind them. "I already did," I say hastily, hoping to quell his sudden burst of fury.
"Then it's time this cunt learned her place," Lance snarls as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.
Fear and anger surge through me as I watch Lance haul her through the club. Other dancers watch in interest... some with amused smirks, others with a look of pity in their eyes.
My eyes catch Le
on's across the room, and he raises his eyebrows at me in a silent question, Do you need help?
I give a shake of my head and lengthen my stride to keep up with Lance. He pulls her down the back hallway to the left of the stage, straight toward Simon's office, and then he's pushing her through so roughly that she stumbles and almost falls. Luckily, she catches herself on the corner of Simon's desk and rights herself.
I grab ahold of Lance's arm and pull him around so he faces me. "What the fuck are you doing?" I whisper urgently. "Peter's taken care of. He's not mad anymore."
The fucker gives me a wink in return. "I know. He's satisfied with any pussy."
"Then what are you doing to Nikki? You know she's not part of the prostitution... She didn't do anything wrong."
Lance steps in closer to me, a maniacal smile on his face. "I know. But I'm not about to waste a chance to beat this bitch down into submission a bit. Make her a little easier for us to handle tomorrow. I want to see what kind of fighter she is."
"You are not going to--?" I start to say, intent on blowing this whole operation out of the water if I have to save Andrea from being raped by Lance.
"Relax, dude," he says with a chuckle. "I like my women willing. But I am going to test her."
With that, Lance turns away from me and walks into Simon's office. I follow him in and watch as Andrea raises her head and pushes her hair out of her face. I don't know if it's an act or not, but she looks scared. This causes my own fear and anger to surge again.
Lance stalks up to her and wraps his large hand around her throat, pulling her up straighter. Leaning his face in, he hisses at her, "You think you call the shots around here, Nikki?"
"No," she whispers fearfully, now standing on her tiptoes to try to keep balance with the way Lance is holding her up by her throat.
I stand poised... ready to attack if Lance makes a move to hurt her. The fear in her voice has me on edge, and every protective instinct I have as a man rears up inside of me. Andrea's eyes are flared wide, her bottom lip quivering. I take a step toward Lance to put an end to this, but then I look down at Andrea's hands. Both of her arms hang loose beside her body, but her fists are balled up tight. I watch as she opens her hands, and then curls her fingers inward again in tight reflex.
Open... close. Open... close.
She's not scared.
She's pissed, yet she's still maintaining an act.
Immediately, my pulse calms somewhat, because her body language is telling me that she has a grip on the situation and she is not fearful as to where she's at right now.
Reluctantly, I decide to trust my partner and let it play out.
Wanting to appear nonchalant and vaguely interested in what Lance is going to do to "test her," I walk over to one of the chairs and sit down. I stretch my legs out in front of me, casually resting my elbows on the armrests.
"You are the fucking employee, Nikki," Lance snarls in her face. "You do not say no to the customers."
"Okay," she says quickly... fearfully... giving him no fight.
"You want this fucking job?" Lance asks, his nose just an inch from her own. He gives her a tiny shake to further bully her.
"Y-y-y-es," she stammers, and her fists clench and uncurl.
Clench and uncurl.
"Then you better do anything Simon, Raze, or I tell you to do, you hear me?" he says with menace.
"Yes," she blurts out. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I'll go back to that man now, if you want."
Lance doesn't say anything, just stares at her intently. I see his eyes roaming back and forth between her own, gauging the truth of her words.
He releases his grip on her throat and her heels go back down until she's standing on her own again.
"No, that opportunity is already ruined," Lance says quietly, and I let out a sigh of relief. It appears Lance just wanted to scare the shit out of her.
Reaching out, he skims his knuckles down her arm. His voice is thoughtful when he says, "But I'm not sure if you really mean what you say."
"I do," Andrea assures him.
Good girl. She sounds completely obedient.
"Let's test that out," Lance says, and I immediately go back on alert again. I sit up straighter in my chair, prepared to strike if necessary.
Lance grips Andrea by the arm and then gives her a push my way. She stumbles... rights herself again, and then straightens up, looking back over her shoulder at Lance.
"Give my boy Raze here a blow job," he says with an evil grin on his face. "A stellar fucking blow job. In fact, get on your fucking hands and knees, crawl your ass over to him, and beg him to let you blow him. You do that, and then I'll believe you when you say you'll do anything to keep this job."
Jesus fucking Christ.
No way.
No fucking way is this going to happen.
Chapter 8
Andrea
"Do it," Lance barks at me, and I jerk in response.
Conflicting emotions run through me. Fear that this isn't just Lance fucking with me... that he has something more nefarious planned.
Relief.
Relief that he's not the one interested in getting a blow job, and relief I didn't have to prove my loyalty by going back upstairs to fuck that guy.
Guilt.
Guilt that Wyatt has no say so in any of this, because what little I've come to know about this man... I know that he, more than anything, doesn't want me to be violated in anyway. Even if I have to give him a blow job, and he's the one receiving pleasure, he will still feel like he's violating me.
Shame.
Shame because the thought of giving Wyatt a blow job causes skitters of pleasure to course through me. Odd... I never much enjoyed it with David but for some reason, my mouth waters thinking about doing that to Wyatt.
That is wrong on so many fucked-up levels that I have to immediately dismiss it from my mind, and instead, I choose to focus on the last emotion coursing through me.
Fury.
Fury that this prick Lance thinks he can bully me around. Fury that Simon kidnaps and sells women as sex slaves. Fury that someone as good and decent as Wyatt even has to immerse himself in this untenable situation.
I slowly drop to my hands and knees and start crawling toward Wyatt. His face is hard, a muscle popping at his jawline. He gazes down at me intently, and I see the subtle grinding motion of his teeth, silently gnashing at each other.
If I were really Nikki O, a down-and-out stripper who needed this job and would do anything to keep it, I would think Wyatt was looking down at me with barely uncontrolled lust. But as FBI agent Andrea Somerville, who knows exactly what stakes are at risk here, and who remembers when Wyatt told me the other night that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me, I see a man that is furious and regretful all at the same time that I'm crawling toward him.
Lance gives a dark chuckle behind me. "She looks phenomenal from this angle, Raze."
Closer and closer I get to Wyatt and my heart is thundering deep within my chest. My heart aches for him as I take note of the very clear erection pressed against his black jeans, showing his traitorous body.
"You're forgetting something," Lance says thickly.
I pause in my crawling and turn my head to look back over my shoulder. Lance's eyes are pinned onto my bare ass since I'm wearing a thong, but then his eyes slide to mine. "You need to beg him."
I give Lance my most capitulating look coupled with a smile of assent and turn back to Wyatt.
Looking him straight in the eyes, I start crawling toward him again.
"Please... Raze... let me give you a blow job."
His jaw muscle pops again and his fingers curl tightly into the armrest.
I crawl closer.
"Please... let me suck you down."
Teeth grinding, his legs spread apart to give me room to crawl right up to him.
Reaching out, I place one hand on his knee and use it to pull myself up in between his legs. I hope he can see the apology in my eyes
when I say, "Please... Raze... let me make you come with my mouth."
"That's it, baby," Lance murmurs behind me, and a shudder of disgust over the lust in his voice floods through me.
My eyes flutter closed, and I swallow hard. When I open them back up, I don't dare to look at Wyatt. Instead, I look down at the straining fly of his jeans. My hands are shaking when I reach out and pop the button, and his hips shift slightly as I lower the zipper.
"Lift your ass," I say quietly, and he does as I ask. I hear his teeth grind together harder, and I internally wince because I know that hurts.
My fingertips slip into the waistband of his underwear, and I gently tug them and his jeans down. His erection is revealed and when the constraining material is removed, it stands up tall, thick, and hard as a rock.
It's fucking beautiful and even though this is an act... a part of the job... the tingling sensation between my legs tells me this is not going to be a hardship.
"A little privacy," Wyatt says thickly, and my eyes jerk up to his. He's not looking at me though. His gaze is focused over my shoulder at Lance, and the hard glint I see reflecting leaves no room open for Lance to argue.
"Enjoy," Lance says, and then I hear his shoes quietly whispering over the carpet. I don't turn to see him leave but instead watch Wyatt's gaze as he follows Lance's movement. I hear the office door open, then close again, and we are alone.
Wyatt's eyes slide to mine, and I expect to see relief that Lance is gone. Instead, his face is awash with regret.
His hands come up to clasp on either side of my head, and he pulls me up as he leans down toward me. I'm stunned when his mouth comes down on mine, and he gives me a swift kiss. His lips are velvety against mine, and lust courses through me. I open my mouth, but all too quickly, he pulls back and sticks his lips near my ear.
"I'm sorry," he says in the barest whisper that I almost can't hear him.
"Me too," I whisper back. "Thank God he's gone and we don't have to--"
"No," he says urgently, still in a voice so low that it sounds like it's being carried away on the wind. "I'm sorry because there's a camera over your shoulder. He's watching us."
"What?" I breathe out in surprise while Wyatt moves his lips across my skin. I realize he's hiding his mouth so Lance can't see what he's saying to me.