There Once was a Dancer (FBI Files Spec. Ops. Tac Team #3)

Prologue

REX

I walked into Dance Hall Boys close to midnight. I'd never been to this club before, but I'd heard a lot about it from Nash, one of my buddies at the FBI. I didn’t have a wingman tonight because everyone had other plans. I wasn't sure what to expect or even what I was doing here.

Nash had loved it. Mickey—one of my other friends—had called the place a meat market. It made sense because Nash had been quite the player before meeting Joshua Calder, the love of his life.

The place seemed nice enough. Under the club’s low lighting, even the walls seemed to glitter.

The scent of clean, sweaty, dancing men was thick in the air, which I found sexy as hell.

The music thumping out of large speakers placed strategically around the room, was what I'd call techno.

Not my thing, but it was still a hell of a lot better than the stuff I'd been raised on back in Texas.

Even now when I heard a country song, I practically hightailed it outta the room.

I wanted nothing to do with that crap. It just brought back bad memories of my angry daddy and my crying mama.

Friday nights were the worst in my house.

That's when daddy got drunk and Mama got hit.

I made a conscious effort to put those thoughts out of my mind to make this Friday night a hell of a lot better.

I pushed my way through the tight crowd, feeling the weight of men’s stares as I headed for the bar.

After ordering a beer, I slowly circled the dance floor where most of the action was happening, checking out the dancers.

I was a tall guy at six and a half feet, so it was easy for me to see over the heads of most of the dancers and the guys watching them.

Most were younger than my thirty-five years and there was quite a variety, which suited me fine.

Several men turned my way as I passed by, craning their necks to look up at me, then all the way down my body to check out the goods.

I got quite a few not-so-coy smiles and winks.

I’d dressed nicely in a plaid, cambric shirt, my best jeans, and a favorite pair of cowboy boots.

I thought I looked pretty nice. I returned smiles, trying to be friendly in case I decided to pick someone up.

I admit, I wasn't even sure I was here for that. I was still getting used to living in Los Angeles, having grown up my whole life in Houston prior to moving out West with the Tac Team I worked on. I didn’t socialize with anyone other than the guys I worked with and a few folks from my favorite pet rescue, and though, loathe to admit it, I was lonely.

Two of my best friends had recently found men and settled down, though, that wasn’t my goal tonight.

I wasn’t really sure what the goal was, but I did know commitment wasn’t in the cards for me.

I turned my attention back to the men in the room at large.

I was a hot-blooded American male, but it had been such a long, dry spell.

Getting laid sounded good, but someone would really have to catch my eye to make that leap.

I was rounding the far side of the dance floor when some inebriated fool bumped into me so hard, I ended up smacking up against a wall and sloshing my beer all over my jeans.

“Damn it!” I shouted as the guy lurched out of sight, enveloped by the crowd.

I was looking down, brushing at the wet stain over the front of my pants, when I heard a hearty bark of laughter.

I followed the sound, looking up to see a go-go dancer standing on top of a raised plinth looking down at me.

His eyes were twinkling and he had one hand over his mouth, another on the bars, and he was quite obviously trying to smother another laugh.

I’m sure I was wearing a frown when I looked up. After all, I’d nearly been taken out by a drunk, something foreign enemies had failed to do many times. “Find somethin’ funny?”

The small man nodded vigorously, grinning from ear to ear, making him look like a perfectly naughty pixie.

“Just a little,” came the heavily accented voice.

He dropped his hand and slid it down his oiled body, drawing my attention to his smooth chest, past the bellybutton jewel he wore, to the skimpiest bottoms I’d ever seen.

They sparkled under the strong overhead spotlights that lit up the cage he danced in.

The gold slip of fabric glittered as he held onto the bars, writhing and moving sensually. He was mesmerizing.

My irritation disappeared almost immediately as I looked my fill of his body, feeling the first spark of any real interest in a man I’d had all night.

The dancer was young and slender, and whatever comeback I'd planned on vanished because I couldn't take my eyes off him.

He was starkly beautiful with tousled, chocolate curls, full lips, and golden skin.

The small, dark brown nipples, and a large bulge drew my eye.

I couldn't stop staring at him, noting with interest, that he was watching me right back.

“Woohoo! Dance for us little boy!” someone shouted.

“Yeah…show us your dick!” Peals of laughter came from the other side of the cage.

I glanced through the bars to find a group of young guys wearing Letterman jackets, hootin’ and hollerin’ like jokers.

All three stood there holding beers, laughing like jackasses and pointing up at the dancer I’d been admiring.

I looked up at the boy in time to catch a glimpse of boredom and possibly something else cross his features.

Could it have been anger? I wasn't sure but either way, I resented the interruption and really wished the trio of idiots would leave. I was even more offended on the dancer’s behalf.

No one should be subjected to that kind of talk, not even a go-go dancer who put his body on display for a paycheck.

He turned his back on them, grabbed the bars in front of me, and smiled down, his gorgeous dimples on full display.

I returned the smile, fascinated by him.

“Look at his ass!” one of the idiots said.

“He’s making me hard, Terry, and I'm not even gay.” The guy who'd made the comment slapped his taller friend on the back, then bent over at the waist, laughing like a hyena.

“The way you keep talking about my cute ass and my big dick, says different,” the adorable young dancer said.

He’d turned his head and was watching these guys with a smug smile on his full lips.

With a naughty gleam in his eye, the sensuous pixie pivoted around to face them, thrusting his hips at them almost as a taunt.

I really wished he hadn't said or done anything to encourage them, though I figured he felt safe inside his cage. The three were much bigger and much more trouble than the dancer could’ve bargained for had they not been separated by bars.

He spun around to face me, planting two hands on the bars of his cage as he looked down at me.

He thrust his hips toward me this time, moving in a slow, sensual invitation.

When he winked, I couldn't help but smile.

I really wanted to tell him how much trouble he was.

My buddy, Alain, would have called him cheeky.

He abruptly broke eye contact when one of the guys reached through the bars and grabbed his ankle.

I'd seen enough. I rounded the plinth and got in between the men and the platform, forcing the grabber to let go.

He stumbled backward, almost losing his balance as his two mouthy friends caught his arms to keep him from hitting the floor.

“Get outta here now,” I shouted.

“Who the hell do you think you are, buddy?” the ankle grabber said.

“Who I am, ain’t important. All you gotta know is that I’ll be your worst nightmare if you don't leave that man alone.”

The guy called Terry looked me up and down, probably seeing the disparity in our build and height. When he met my eyes again, he looked suspicious. “Why do you care? He's just a whore,” the man slurred. “Are you his pimp or something?”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up as anger filled my chest. I felt a frown cross my face. “I ain’t his pimp and he ain’t no whore, asshole. He’s a workin’ man and no one deserves to be talked to like they’re a piece of meat.”

One of the guys looked past me before glancing back. “He sure looks like a whore to me.”

“Well, your sight is cruddy then. Get lost, Terry!” I shouted over the music and pointed at the door. “And take your two idiot friends with you.”

“Just who the hell do you think you are, Tex?” the drunk shouted back.

I smirked. “Close…but that ain’t my name. All you gotta know is what I’m tellin’ you. Now get outta here and leave this man alone.”

“Come on, Terry, let's go,” one of his friends said, pulling on Terry’s arm to get him moving toward the exit. He gave me a wary up and down glance before looking back at his friend. “We don’t need any trouble from the whore’s big attack dog.”

Terry obviously had other ideas as he yanked his arm away. “Let go of me, Bobby.”

“This one’s too big to fight, especially over that piece of Mexican trash,” Terry's other friend said, throwing an angry glance up at the dancer.

“Soy Boricua Puerto Rican, gavacho!” the dancer shouted defensively.

I glanced up at him. He was watching the tug of war playing out between the idiots wearing a mischievous smirk.

Though I couldn’t be sure, the expression on his face conveyed humor, as though he was both amused and resigned to the scene, like something similar had happened many times before.

His reaction made me admire him even more.

I hated the fact that they were throwing barbs and trying to make fun of him.

I'd seen enough of that stereotypical crap while growing up to choke a horse. Any kind of bigotry sickened me.

“Let's go, Terry,” his friends urged. “There's plenty of bars in this town.”

“Haven't you had enough to drink?” I was slightly concerned about the drunken assholes driving from bar to bar in their condition. “Why don’t y’all call an Uber and take your friend home? Call it a night…what’d’ya say, fellas?”

“We’re going, but not because we're afraid of you, cowboy,” the one called Bobby shot back, still tugging on his friend’s arm.

When Terry finally relented, he let his buddies pull him away.

They disappeared from sight as the sea of dancing men and bar patrons swallowed them up.

I turned back to the dancer to find him fiddling with something on the side of the cage.

I walked around, noticing the small door built into the bars for the first time.

When he opened it, I held up a hand. He stared at it for several seconds before finally reaching out to take my offer.

I held on tight as he hopped down onto the ground in front of me.

He craned his neck to look up at me. Though most guys were shorter than I was, I practically towered over this man.

When I caught sight of the expression on his heart-shaped face my breath caught in my throat.

He had to be one of the most beautiful creatures I'd ever seen.

His huge, dark eyes were surrounded with black kohl liner.

It was impossible to tell exactly what color they were in the dimness of the club, but I did note that his lashes and riotous curls on top of his head were much the same color.

“Gracias,” he said with an accent so thick, it had to be a put on.

He smiled at me, making those dimples pop again, and I couldn't help but smile back as electricity shot through my veins.

He reached out and laid his palm on my chest, but the moment he did, he yanked it back just as quickly.

He stared at his hand for a few seconds before looking up into my eyes again.

His expression made me wonder if he'd felt the electricity between us too.

I smiled at him. “What's your name, sugar?”

“You can call me Cachi,” he replied.

I couldn’t help but smile. This time, his accent was lighter as the words rolled off his tongue. “Cachi,” I repeated. “That's a real pretty name.”

He smiled. “Cachi…it mean pacificador.”

I leaned into my limited knowledge of Spanish from growing up in a border town. “Peacemaker?”

He grinned widely as he nodded. “Muy bien, cowboy. You have a name?” He waved at my midsection. “Or I should call you cowboy?”

I laughed. “Name’s Rex.”

He smiled again, making the adorable dimples sink into his smooth cheeks. “Gracias for chasing those guys away, Rex, but I handle them.”

I nodded, shaking my head. He was a real spitfire if I’d ever met one. “I just bet you could.”

He glanced down at his body, waving at his slick skin before glancing up at me under thick lashes. “Well, I think I should change. Nice to meet you, cowboy.”

I don’t know why, but the idea that our brief conversation was coming to an end, made me feel even lonelier than I had earlier.

Cachi had been the only man I’d seen all night to hold my interest. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to want to continue the encounter, and it seemed unmannerly to try to force the issue.

My mama woulda whupped my ass if she thought I wasn’t being polite.

I reached up and grabbed the imaginary brim of my hat and took a bow.

“Well, it was surely nice meetin’ you, sugar. Stay away from drunk frat boys.”

“I do.” He giggled.

The tinkling sound filled my belly with butterflies.

I watched as he turned and walked away, stopping right before he got to the back hallway to look over his shoulder.

When he realized I was still watching him, he winked, gave me another dimpled smile, and went on his way.

I felt myself grin and looked down at my boots, unable to get the man out of my mind.

I lifted my chin and glanced out at the dance floor and the men who circled it.

All of them paled in comparison to the young, Latino dancer who’d caught my eye.

Everyone seemed to be having a great time, but not a single one did anything for me at all.

I didn't dance, though several men stopped to chat and ask if they could buy me a drink. I shook my head every time, unable to get the pretty Puerto Rican out of my mind. After half an hour, I finally made up my mind to go. What was the point? The only man who’d inspired me all night, was way out of my league.

Way too young and way too pretty.