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“Huh. Who is your lovely lady?” Brandon asks. He has no problem looking at me.
“Mine,” Bash says simply.
“I see.” His words hold so much meaning. “Are you going to scene with her?”
“I haven’t decided,” Bash says coldly.
“You should. It’s been a long time since I have seen such innocence,” he says, his voice filled with desire. It makes me want to gag.
“You can last a little longer.”
“What’s your name, sweets?” Brandon asks.
“None of your business,” Bash says.
“Don’t be like that,” he chuckles. “We can all be friends now.”
“We will never be friends, but I can enjoy the night with my woman,” Bash relents.
I know we have a purpose here, but it’s hard to continue with the plan. Obviously, Brandon knows what Bash can do once he looks in your eyes. Bash will have to get violent to do it. At this point, I don't care what he has to do to get rid of him.
“I have my girl coming to see me tonight. I encourage you to enjoy the show; maybe you will change your mind and show us how you please your woman. If you can,” he says, condescending.
Brandon doesn’t wait for Bash’s response, walking away quickly. He’s careful not to go too far, skirting the line to the offensive.
Bash drops his head, his lips touching my neck. “I fucking want to hurt him so badly,” he admits.
“We can go,” I say, turning my head into him. “It isn’t worth it. A picture won’t do this place justice for the client.”
“It’s more than that now,” he says. “I have to get close to him.”
“That was tense, friend,” Bishop whispers, sliding onto the stool beside me. “Brandon is a sleaze. He certainly hates you but doesn’t want to offend you. He’s running scared. The waitresses are brainwashed. I was chatting it up with Carmen. She’s a pretty little thing that thought she would work at a fancy gentlemen's club. She hates the uniforms and asked if she could at least wear pasties on her nipples. Brandon refused. She makes too much money here to quit.” He sighs and takes a drink. “The customers touch without permission. Brandon has been pressuring her to do more, such as go on stage and allow him to fuck her. She’s in a relationship, and her boyfriend doesn’t know what she does. She’s scared that he’ll dump her, so of course, she doesn’t want to fuck anyone else. The rooms in the back are videotaped and viewed by Brandon at his leisure. She claims that he gives some girls pills to relax. She wants out but sees no way. I gave her the card from Jax. She wants to make the call, but I need you to convince her. I have been working on my mind scrambling technique, but I have a long way to go until it is mastered.”
We stare at Bishop in shock. He came in five minutes before us. How did he get so much information? He is beautiful. His golden, shoulder-length hair is tousled naturally. He wears tight, ripped jeans and a tight t-shirt. His arms and neck are covered in every color of tattoo. His gold eyes are piercing; you lose yourself in them, forgetting that the color should raise questions.
“How the fuck?” Bash asks.
“I’m charming and I’m a good listener. People like telling me things,” he shrugs.
“I can see that,” I say, staring.
“Baby,” Bash warns.
“Sorry.” I blush, looking away.
“I think your man caught his prey.” Bishop nods behind us.
We see Tabitha smiling, sauntering across the floor to a smug Brandon. He holds out his arms, and she runs to him and throws herself into him.
I automatically reach for my phone, snapping pictures of their embrace. Her husband will not like her leopard print outfit, a tiny bikini hanging on by threads. I should think about switching to another career.
Look where this one brought me.
Chapter Ten
Bash
Every muscle in my body is straining to control my instinct to kill Brandon, along with every other man in my mate's vicinity. Marie didn’t notice all the desire-filled looks she was getting while walking to the bar. She has no idea what that dress does to a man. I should have thrown her over my shoulder, taken her to my room, and called the stupid plan off.
