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“I said, strip,” he repeats, his voice a low growl. “You should know how. Isn’t that what you do for a living?”
I swallow. What the actual fuck? Is he trying to humiliate me? Trying to remind me that he’s in charge here?
Even though the anger still simmering in my veins wants me to tell him to go fuck himself, I don’t. I’ve already admitted that I’ll do anything for Chloe, and I meant it. I’ll even do this if I have to.
Still, I hesitate, because Maddoc is wrong about one thing. I may be a professional stripper who’s used to undressing on stage for a bunch of strangers… but this is nothing like that.
There are no lights. No costume. No music. Just me and these three ruthless men.
“If I have to tell you again,” Maddoc says after a beat, “it’s not gonna end well for you.”
I clench my jaw, hating the shiver that goes through me at his unyielding tone. I know I have to do it. I’ve already let my agitation and anger come close to fucking this up, but the Reapers really are my only chance. Maddoc hasn’t explicitly refused to help me, but if I piss him off any more, he probably will. Hell, he’ll probablykillme.
My skin prickles under the men’s unblinking gazes, but I refuse to look at either of Maddoc’s seconds-in-command. I’m sure I’d see Logan coldly gloating, and Dante… god, I don’t even know what kind of expression I’d see on his face. Trying not to imagine it, I kneel down and unbuckle my boots, then stand again and kick them off.
I make no effort at all to be sexy as I shrug out of my calfskin jacket and let it drop to the floor. The cell phone I’ve got in the pocket clunks against the floor, and I wince as I peel off my white shirt, hoping like hell that the screen didn’t crack.
I tug the shirt over my head and toss it down onto the growing pile on the floor, my movements quick and efficient. It’s like ripping off a Band-aid, and I can’t afford to lose my nerve.
I didn’t bother with a bra tonight, and even though I’ve been topless in front of more men than I can count, I suddenly feel naked and vulnerable in a way that I never have up on stage as my nipples pebble from the sudden exposure to cool air.
Gritting my teeth, I try to ignore the feeling as I shimmy out of my tight pants. Leather pants are a bitch to get in and out of even at the best of times, and when I hear Logan scoff behind me and mutter, “You’re not very good at this, are you?” I’m seriously fucking tempted to turn around and sling them at his head.
Instead, I kick them to the side and refuse to turn around, even though I can feel both Logan’s and Dante’s eyes boring into me from behind.
When I’m almost completely naked, I stand in front of Maddoc, hands on my hips and chin raised. “Happy?”
“Not even close,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to the panties I’ve left on. “Those too.”
They’re a high-cut, pale blue silk the exact color of the teardrop-shaped nose ring I chose not to wear tonight, and although they cover more than the g-strings I wear at the club, it somehow feels like they hide less.
Or maybe that’s just because they’re the last thing separating me from complete submission to Maddoc’s will.
Hooking the waistband of my panties, I slip them down, losing my last layer of armor. When I’m completely bare, I straighten, trying to pretend my heart isn’t racing.
Maddoc eyes me with a hard expression, his gaze locking with mine for an extended moment before slowly working its way down over my body. I track the movement of his eyes, watching the way they flick back and forth lightly as he takes in every inch of me.
Somehow, his careful perusal makes me hyper aware of him.
Of being naked for him.
Of how fucking big he is, and how very much I’m at his mercy. He’s not just in control of this moment, but of his whole organization, including the two men at my back.
He could tell them to do anything right now. Tellmeto do anything. And he’d get his way.
He comes closer, invading my space, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done to keep my shoulders straight and my legs locked. To keep my breathing calm even as my heart tries to pound its way out of my chest.
“You came to us for a reason,” he says, stopping so close to me that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. I can feel his body heat radiating into my bare skin, and it makes my nerve endings prickle. “You came because we’re the fucking Reapers, and you know what that means in this city.”
“That’s right,” I whisper hoarsely, then clear my throat. “I did.”
“We didn’t get where we are by being stupid, and we sure as fuck didn’t do it by being trusting.” He spits out the last word like it disgusts him, his full lips curling into something like a snarl. “You say you want our help against West Point? You’re fucking ballsy for waltzing into our territory with McKenna’s name on your lips, and goddamn lucky that I ever let you get this far. But I meant what I said at the bar. We don’t know if we can trust you… and this is step one in finding out.”
Before I can ask him what he means, his inked hands are on me. Touching me. Running over my skin like he fucking owns it.
“Asshole,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
He doesn’t stop. “I have to check.”
