Cooper followed her into the parking lot. “I already deleted you from the organization. Good luck finding work in law enforcement.”
Those words, though untrue, cut to her core. Heaving in a breath, she jumped in her SUV, started the engine, and hauled ass out. Once she cleared the parking lot, she pulled over.
Her heart was pounding out of her chest. While the outburst had been planned down to the reason for her being fired, it was still hard to hear. Outside of G-ma, Slash didn’t have family. Her family were the people she worked with. She loved them all, treasured the relationships she’d built with each of them.
From her days of working cases at the Bureau with Rebel, to her early days at ALPHA with Dakota and Sin, she’d made friends for life. She’d been the first female Operative, so she especially treasured her female friends.
I can do this.
Shaking off the bad vibes and reminding herself that she hadn’t really been shit-canned, she put the SUV in gear and she drove away. As soon as she got home, she pulled her computer bag from the floor behind her seat where she’d hidden it hours ago.
She sat at her kitchen table, logged into ALPHA’s secure network and shot off an email to Providence and Cooper. “I’ll keep up with progress reports.”
Then, she sent a separate one to Brit, Addison, and Emerson. “Did I pull it off?”
Within seconds after sending it, her email binged with a reply.
“That was great!” Brit said. “The entire office is talking about it. People are stunned. STUNNED! Miss you already. Come by early on Saturday and we’ll hang.”
Her email binged with a reply from Cooper. “Thanks for the laugh. Stellar performance.”
In anticipation of her upcoming gig, she created an online file, then pulled up a daily report. She added today’s date, fully anticipating she’d be returning to the club that evening, and she would have news to share.
Then, she went for a beast of a run. Forty-minutes later, she returned home, soaked in perspiration. She wanted to go for a mind-clearing motorcycle ride, but Friday rush hour was the worst time for that. She made a mental note to get up early Saturday morning and ride when the streets were less trafficked.
It was eight-twenty when she entered The Blue Suit Club, this time fully prepared to meet with Karen. Forcing herself not to roll her eyes at the thought of that woman, she beelined toward the bar. The place was already busy, dancers shaking their booties on all four stages while servers bustled around delivering drinks and eats.
Filled with determination, Slash slid onto a stool, caught the head bartender’s attention.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“I’m lookin’ to dance,” Slash said.
“I manage the bar,” he said. “Are you interested in serving drinks?”
She shrugged. “Lookin’ to pay the bills. What pays better?”
He shot her a smile. “Depends on how hard you hustle. My team does pretty damn well?—”
Slash leaned forward. “Don’t bullshit me.” She glanced at his name tag. “Bradley.”
“Dancing. Not gonna lie, having you back here would be good for business.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re gorgeous.”
“Yeah, okay, so can I talk to your GM?”
He pulled out his phone. “She’s in her office. I’ll text her.” After he finished, he shot her another smile. “Good luck. You’ll clean up here.” He pulled a bottle of white wine. “On the house.”
“Water,” she said.
He poured her a sparkling water and added a lime wedge. She flashed him a smile, watched his cheeks flush before he moved on to serve someone else.
She swiveled to watch the dancers and the wicked memories came racing back. A chill rippled down her back, but she wasn’t deterred. She had come so far since her life had splintered into a million slivers. She’d only been sixteen when she’d started dancing. A fake ID, along with her unwillingness to take no for an answer, had her working the stage at a shithole strip club.
What Slash hated were the lap dances. She hated gyrating on a pervert, hated the way they eye-fucked her, hated their hard-ons even more. But, back then, she needed a way to survive. It had sucked, but being in that foster home had been much, much worse.
