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His lips twitch into a subtle smile. “Yes?”
“And even better things of the owner,” I press on. “Your dancers speak highly of the man who runs this place.”
“I should think so.” He spares a look for Cora but brings his focus away quickly enough to let us all know he doesn’t give a single fuck about her. She’s neither a threat to him nor valuable. She’s unimportant, and should she stop coming to work, he’ll get another girl in to fill the spot without a sniff of trouble. “I’ve noticed you inside my club for many months, Mr. Donner. You spend well. You treat the girls well.” He looks me up and down—my jeans and shirt to his three-piece-suit—and smirks. “My men tell me you sell companies for a living.”
He’s researched me. Running my cover story long before we ever met.
“You enjoy slicing companies up and getting rich off someone else’s hard work?”
“I enjoy money. It’s how I afford to put girls through college.” I allow my lips to curl, and when Cora sidles a little closer, I slip my arm around her torso and place my fingertips beneath her bra strap, where the fabric meets her rib cage. “I guess some would call me a philanthropist of today’s youth.”
“Hmm.” He brings a hand up, setting my instincts on fire with uncertainty, but he merely flicks his wrist and sends Cora darting away to continue her work.
Elsewhere.
“My companies are not for sale, Mr. Donner.” He leans a little to the left and peers past me, so I know he’s looking at Gord. Then, bringing his gaze back to me, he raises both brows and sends a lava-like sensation sprinting to the bottom of my stomach. “Business partners?”
“Yes.” I fake a chuckle and wave him off. “He’s getting married soon and feeling a little cold about it. So, I figured as his friend and business partner, it’s my job to make sure he’s getting quality pussy before the big day.”
“A philanthropist,” Vallejo repeats. “You’re a good friend, Mr. Donner.”
“Easy now,” my father murmurs in my ear. “He’s got an angle on you.”
Shut the hell up. “Well…” I lift a single shoulder in a shrug and turn my body slightly to the right. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Vallejo. You needn’t worry; my friend and I are here for pleasure only. We have no desire to buy your club.”
“You don’t want it?” he argues. “It’s not good enough for you?”
“Ha.” I choke out a nervous laugh and feel, with my body, not my hands, where my weapon is wrapped around my torso.Fix this, Drake. Stop pissing him off.“I buy failing companies, Mr. Vallejo. I strip them back to annoy their disgraced former CEO and sell each portion for a tidy profit. Your club appears, to me, to be a thriving success.”
“Mmm.” Pleased now, no man immune to a little ego stroke here and there, he turns on his heels and takes a step away. “Come with me, Mr. Donner. I invite you to join me in private.”
Dread balls in my stomach and leaves me swinging my gaze around to Gord. He still has his dancing girl, but his face is white and body rigid with anxiety. “Uh…”
“Now.” One of Vallejo’s soldiers grabs my arm and yanks me away from my chair, toppling it over, though the sound can’t be heard above the din of thudding club music. “No one declines Mr. Vallejo’s invitations.”
Shit. Shit. SHIT!
“You’re going in,” my father barks in my ear. “Fuller, remain where you are. Have Special Agent Banks’ six. Banks—”
“Yeah,” I yank my arm from the soldier’s grasp, taking solace in knowing Vallejo’s back is to me. I owe his men no manners. No kindness. “I got it.”
“We’ve still got eyes on you,” my father announces. “Sending Special Agents Trueman and Gage inside as well. You’ve got time,” he continues. “You’ve got safety. And this is the closest we’ve come to Vallejo in years, so straighten your spine and take control of the situation.”
I guess I should respond withyes, sir. Oraffirmative. OrI’m a pussy bitch and will do whatever you want, more because you’re my dad and less because you’re my professional superior. But I keep my lips shut instead and spare a fast glance back across the club to Gord, then to the doors as men amble in.
They don’t look my way, and I don’t linger on them.
But fuck if my instincts aren’t screaming at me the further I move away from my partner.
“Stay sharp,” I command, using the club’s loud music to cover my voice. “This smells bad.”
“Focus, Special Agent Banks.”
“It feels wrong,” I bite back. “It all feels wrong.”
“In here.” Vallejo’s soldier, Gavin Stevens, jerks me out of the main room and into a tight hallway I’ve already studied via blueprints before ever stepping inside this club. Even in the dark, I know bathrooms are situated further along on the left and changing rooms on the right. The kitchen comes off this hallway too, but as Stevens brings me to a sharp stop and then left, I know where he’s taking me. “Heading up to the office,” I report quietly. “I only have one soldier on me.”
“I see the other one,” Special Agent Trueman murmurs. Music still pounds through my earpiece, and again in real-time, so the two compete. “He’s hovering near Fuller.”
