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“Concierge.”
“Mr. Goode’s a big spender here, huh?” I glance at the knockout strippers on stage.
Thin, gorgeous, perfect fake tits, toned legs, and long hair. Did he bang them all and got bored?
Something isn’t adding up.
My eyes scan Mr. Concierge’s thin chest for a name badge. Nothing.
“What kind of security do you have here?” I fold my arms.
“The best.”
“You protect your girls?”
“We absolutely protect our girls.” He steps back, motioning to the back of the club toward another hallway. He’s tired of my questions, and I’m interrogating the messenger. “Please. Don’t keep Mr. Goode waiting.”
Swallowing, I mentally put my big-girl pants on. I got into this with Johnny on my own, it’s my responsibility to end it.
No owner of a high-end strip club like this would let a customer hurt me.
“Show me to the private lounge,” I say with my back straight and my head held high.
If my assumptions are wrong, my Ruger will right them.
Mr. Concierge marches down the hallway, and my eyes need a minute to adjust to the darkness. He turns a corner, and the sexy décor fades. After another turn, we’re walking down a wood paneled hallway.
I pass an open door with two women in an office sitting in front of two computers. Their ordinary presence relaxes me. I wonder if this guy is lost.
“Hey, I thought—”
He stops short in front of a door. “Quiet!”
My heart jumps into my throat, and I consider speaking louder. Those women working next door will hear me.
But the office door opens, and I’m pushed inside so hard I tumble to the carpet in front of a man.
Pressed pinstripe slacks. Long legs. Narrow waist. No jacket. Black button-down shirt, open to the mid torso with dark chest hair, and a gold pendant. One I recognize.
Uh oh…
Further up, a handsome, olive-skinned man with dark curly hair greets me, “Hello, Jillian.”
“Where’s…”
“Johnny B. Goode?” He smiles and opens his arms. “I’m right here.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I’ve been sleeping with Lazaro Scava, the Borgia underboss.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
Jillian
I’m on my knees before Lazaro Scava.
The man my brother is trying to prosecute.
Run…
