4. Dragon
Chapter Four
DRAGON
At the club, I sat at a table a respectable distance from the stage where a very classy stripper was performing seriously acrobatic moves in a lizard-skin bikini.
They probably didn’t disinfect the pole between dancers.
Why was I here again? Oh, right, because I couldn’t handle feelings, and maybe I’d get to beat up an oppressive owner.
I spun my martini and would have questioned my life choices if Jezebel didn’t swoop down on me.
“There you are!” Jezebel leaned over and squeezed my shoulders a little too hard, but it helped me breathe. “And you started with a girly drink so we can get drunk with you!”
Jezebel didn’t drink alcohol. She never let go of her self-control. Good for her. Only maybe it would be good if she relaxed long enough to find the happiness she was avoiding.
“Bring a round of margaritas!” Felicia said, waving at a server before she sat down next to me and smiled at me too bright, showing her brown eyes and white teeth.
She was very pretty, very sweet, and very friendly.
Too friendly. She was always getting stuck with loser guys.
I was the one she called when she needed help getting them out of her apartment.
I smiled back at her. It was a good time for all.
Minx shook her bright red hair back as she slid in next to Felicia. She said to the server, “Virgin margueritas, Erin. We don’t want a repeat of the Ceasar salad debacle.”
“What Ceasar salad?” I asked, squinting at Minx.
Jezebel elbowed me. She had the sharpest elbows in the world. “The one you don’t remember.”
Felicia pouted, first at Jezebel then at Minx. “You are no fun. Like bringing a man to a baby shower.”
“Are you still with Pete?” I asked before I took a careful sip of my martini. It was only my second one, so I was at the careful stage. I didn’t want to talk about baby showers. I’d gone to one once and been traumatized forever.
Felicia rolled her eyes. “Aiee, like he understands when I tell him we are not eating tacos from the drive-through because they are an abomination to my culture, you know? But he’s like, ‘my culture likes abominations,’ and I’m like…”
Jezebel reached over me and put her hand over Felicia’s mouth. “Y’all, cannot talk about tacos when I’m avoiding carbs.”
Felicia pushed down Jez’s hand. “Y’all’s needs to stop starving yourself for some horse.
I mean, men are bad enough, but the way you watch your weight just so your Snowdrop doesn’t suffer is sad.
Get a new stud. Bigger, stronger, and stop denying yourself happiness, unless it’s drive-through tacos, which are an abomination.
” She crossed herself while Jezebel snorted.
Jezebel said, “For a second I thought you were talking about Horse and his Band of Demons.” Everyone looked at me until I looked back at each beautiful, diabolical face. They all got a sick and twisted thrill from seeing me hate Horse so much.
I shrugged and took a long sip before I said, “No. I mean, yeah, I get the abomination reference in regard to him, but no one would need to starve themselves to be light enough for him to carry.”
Minx leaned closer to me. “I didn’t mean to say anything, but he’s here. Did you see him at the table in the back? Looks like he’s talking to the owners.”
“Why would he do that?” Jezebel asked, raising a brow, the one that came right before she pulled a pistol.
I groaned and downed the rest of my drink and stood. “Maybe he’s thinking of stripping.”
“Oooh,” Minx and Felicia said with matching expressions of glee.
Jezebel snorted again. “Where are you going? We just got here.”
“Refill. Don’t worry, Cowgirl. I’ll be right back.” I patted her hair, and as expected, she snarled at me.
I headed to the bar with my glass and a smile, but on the way, I happened to search the perimeter, and there was Horse, in the flesh, scowling at me like I’d infringed on his space.
Oh, right. Because it was a strip club where women usually wouldn’t go.
Unless he really started stripping, then there would be a stampede.
Not me. The only things I wanted him stripped of were his pride, his smirk, and a few layers of skin.
Although he really did know how to fill out… whatever he was wearing.
I was so focused on Horse that I didn’t notice the guy whose chair was too far in the aisle. I bounced off a nicely broad shoulder, and somehow tripped on my boots and sprawled on the disgusting industrial carpet that smelled of vomit, rancid apples, and hopelessness.
And I was wearing a blue satin dress without any leather leggings, so I was flashing a lot of thigh at the guy. My scarred thigh. Spry guy. Because he leapt up and bent over me with hand extended and amusement and concern in his eyes.
“Are you all right?”
I stared at that hand and shook my head before I rolled to my feet. “Yeah. I’m at the careful stage.”
He raised his brows. “Careful? That’s an interesting stage name. You’re a stripper here?”
I stared at him. He was slightly taller than me, but not as tall as Dr. Williams, and certainly not as tall as Horse, who was probably still glowering at us from the back of the room.
The point is, who looked at me and thought, ‘That’s probably a stripper?
’ Feminine assets weren’t exactly what you’d think of when you saw a six foot-something racer who doubled as a boxer when Nix needed extra power.
Not that I didn’t have curves, as showcased by this ridiculous dress, but I also had muscle. Bones. And a right hook that could knock him out cold.
“She doesn’t know what to do with a pole,” a man behind me said in a low voice that I’d know and hate anywhere.
I turned to glare at Horse where he stood, leaning on the edge of a table with his drink, looking drinkable and dangerous. And he didn’t have any women hanging on him like they couldn’t help themselves.
His driver ruined my tire! Now he wanted to ruin my girl’s night? Not that I’d been particularly enjoying it, but he didn’t know that. And what was with the pole reference? He wasn’t usually so openly vulgar. He used his aura for that.
I studied him coldly. “Actually, we were hoping that you’d ply the pole for us. It’d be the perfect Las Vegas experience.”
His eyes hardened as he straightened, moving closer. “Yeah? You want to buy me for the evening? But at what price? I do come cheap, but am I cheap enough for you?”
I hesitated. He was angry, but I wasn’t clear-headed enough to understand why.
He got angry from time to time, particularly when I tarnished my reputation, but I was with a guy this time.
Probably had to do with all the concussions he got in his line of work.
Felicia’s voice came from behind me as she linked arms with mine.
“So you’re saying that all strippers are cheap? Easy? Worthless?”
I turned to frown at her while I went over Horse’s words.
Is that what he meant? How could he say that in front of Felicia and Minx who were strippers?
It was just a job. A way to pay the bills that relied on the mercy of drunk men who were feeding their lust, but all the same, just a dangerous job.
I was really good with dangerous jobs. I turned to smile at the blonde guy. “Hi. Yeah. I’m a stripper. But I’m not cheap. It’s just my job.” Like I stripped cars. That was honest, right?
Horse laughed, teeth flashing in a grin of dangerous teeth above his cleft chin. “This is going to be painful.”
I glared at him. I was trying to normalize Felicia’s career. “Did someone make you the announcer? We don’t need a play-by-play.”
Horse raised his drink in the guy’s direction. “He doesn’t know the program, baby. He doesn’t know that some women aren’t coordinated with long and hard objects.”
What was going on with him? That’s the second time he referenced man parts.
It’s like he wanted this guy to not think I was feminine enough to be a stripper.
Horse needed to make up his mind. Then again, that would be expecting him to be rational.
In which case, he’d fire Pixel. Who’d ruined my tire.
Forget being polite. This was war.
I shoved past the guys and headed for the stage.
What was I doing? Nothing good. I’d probably been drinking too much, too fast. As usual.
Not as usual. I liked to keep it quiet. I’d known girl’s night was a bad idea.
Here were my feelings mixing together in one cocktail of madness that would lead to bad life choices.
But hopefully Felicia would feel like I didn’t judge her for her work.
I sold butt shots for the team. I was bought and sold as much as anyone else in this land of vice.
The stage was empty. I stalked up the steps and launched myself like I was charging an opponent.
I swung around and struck a pose that would kick anyone in the face if they got too close.
After that, I worked the pole like I’d seen Minx practice as she did in dressing rooms when she was trying on her sale magic.
I twisted around the pole like I was spinning a steering wheel.
My first vehicle was named Violet, a green-gray beast that could take out anything, pure iron muscle that had rolled over my opposition until Nix had gotten her exploded.
Even if we won and he bought me a very nice set of replacements, I still felt sad about it.
I danced for Violet, for the smell of the ripped leather seats, the nitro in back to give it a shot of surprise speed at the end of a long and dusty race. I loved her so much.
At the end of the song, I swung away from the pole and bent down to snag Blondie’s drink. I raised my glass and called, “To Violet!”
“To Violet!” The customers of the bar called back along with other lewd comments that I couldn’t make out. I threw back the drink and tripped coming off the stage.
Stupid boots.
That time Horse was right there, catching me in his incredibly strong arms.
I stared into his lightning-hot blue eyes for a long moment, wanting to drink him up.
His warmth spread through me, his gaze smoldering and lighting a fire in my stomach that spread through my veins.
He felt so good. So right. So absolutely perfect.
And he’d kept me from falling on my face down a set of hard stairs.
His voice was a rough growl that sent the flames flickering faster.
“I remember that beast. Is that what really makes you purr? I have a V-twelve cylinder engine in my warehouse, two banks of six, common crankshaft, perfect primary balance. No second balance shaft necessary. Triple overlap power pulses…” His voice got lower and lower, and his warm hands weren’t letting me go. He felt way too good.
I was going home with someone tonight, but I’d be out of my mind if it was with the biggest man-whore in the city. Hygiene and the knowledge that I’d have to live in the same hotel with him afterwards made me almost sober.
I pushed away from him. “There isn’t an engine in the world that would drive me into your arms,” however good they felt. And then I ran away.