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She nods quickly, relief lifting the corners of her mouth. “Thanks.”
After she leaves, I wait outside of the dressing room, listening for sounds of fighting. But only the normal excited chatter filters through, so I continue down the hallway into the main part of the club. A quick glance to my left shows Lisa’s on stage, high up on the pole, hanging upside down by her thighs while her long blonde hair flutters below her. I’ve watched her do this trick dozens of times and a knot of concern still squeezes my lungs for a second. But she’s got it.
Sweaty, dazed men in a range of ages take up all the seats near the stage, offering their appreciation of Lisa’s skills with dollars they toss on the stage.
Thank fuck Emily didn’t take me up on the offer to come inside. Through my jaded eyes, all of this has become mundane. To Emily, it would be a shock. Crass and seedy.
“She’s good, right?” a soft voice says next to me.
I don’t have to look down to know it’s Swan. “Hey, when’d you get here?” I ask.
“Just now.” She lifts her chin toward the stage. “I taught her that move.”
“Customers seem to appreciate it.”
“Hmm.” She tips her head back. “I think she’s better at it than I am now.”
“No one’s better than you,” I assure her. “Why else would I keep reeling you back in here?”
Swan’s been trying to quit for ages. But her ties to the MC make it almost impossible. One of these days, she’ll probably vanish, just to get away from us.
I continue weaving through the crowd, nodding at Willow behind the bar and continue to the front door. One of our bouncers—Blue—has his heavy frame draped over a tall wooden stool in the short, narrow entryway.
“Busy tonight?” I ask.
He nods. Blue rarely wastes words.
“Inga flew by on her broomstick to fuck up my afternoon,” I say.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Porn star Inga?”
“Do we know any others?”
His mouth twitches with interest. “How’s she lookin?”
“Rough.” I roll my eyes. “That’s not the point. She’s not allowed in here for any reason. You see her, call a brother to toss her out.”
“You got it. Too many fine females in the world to mess with that snake.”
Got that right.“Malik outside?” I ask.
He nods once.
“Follow me.” I jerk my head toward the door. Although Blue’s worked for Crystal Ball longer, Malik’s a prospect and I trust him more.
Outside, a line of men wait to be let inside. Been a while since we’ve been this busy. Malik’s carefully eyeballing each of our would-be customers. Checking to make sure no one’s drunk, carrying weapons, or on our “no entry” list.
I tap Malik’s arm and jerk my head toward the club. Without a word, he hands the I.D. he’s holding to Blue and follows me inside.
“What’s on your mind, Dexter?” he asks in his low, deadly rumble.
I shake my head. “Dex is fine.”
“Yeah, but everyone says you got your road name after that serial killer dude.”
While that’s partially true, it sounds stupid as fuck. Ignoring it, I pull out my phone and find the picture of Inga. “I need you to be on the lookout for someone. She’s before your time, but back in town—probably to cause trouble. Under no circumstances is she allowed inside this club.”
He takes my phone and studies the photo. “What’s wrong with her?”
