I reapplied a smoky shadow that made my blue eyes pop. Against my pale complexion, the contrast screamed theatrical, and I was confident it worked. I was younger than any girl here, and my body showed it. There wasn’t a stretch mark or a track to be found anywhere on my skin. Nothing drooped or sagged. My ass was tight enough to bounce a quarter off it, and my abs rivaled my butt. I didn’t work out. I’d just been blessed with genes that left me lean and toned. It helped that I wasn’t a big eater, and I walked everywhere I went—except Club Swank.
The girl in the mirror wasn’t even close to anyone I recognized. Nevertheless, she was hot, and her look brought in tips. Big tips. I’d marked off one night of this charade; I only had eleven more to go. Then I’d be free of this shit and every bit of filth it brought to my life.
Most of the girls traipsed around nude or in their costume if they were getting ready to perform. That was one area Nikki hadn’t been willing to concede to Diamond. I waited until the very last minute to lace up my corset and pull on the pitiful excuse for panties. The final step was supposed to be heels, but after that first night, I opted for matching combat boots. Silver for the “Whore” number, red for “Closer”—because Nine Inch Nails was sexy as fuck—and finally, black for “Skin.” Rihanna had to be the queen of seduction. It was a good thing I only danced three times a night; otherwise, the boots wouldn’t have worked. I only owned three pairs, and all of our costumes had to be different. I took that to mean different colors with slight variations in style, although I was well aware that was a dangerously loose interpretation of the rule. I wasn’t here for the long haul, and I refused to invest a shit ton of money in crap I’d never be caught dead in once my final night at Swank ended. So, I improvised with things I had in my closet and only purchased stockings and G-strings. Waxing had been my biggest and most painful expense.
As Candy’s number wrapped up, I rolled my neck and swung my arms. I likened it to a performance ritual, but I really just needed to expend the extra energy. This wasn’t a high I’d ever crave. I did my best to get through it without vomiting every time I took off my top. As much as I loved “Skin,” I’d chosen it for the slower beat. One dance was exhausting, three would have me comatose by the time my head hit my pillow tonight. It wasn’t just physically taxing—mentally, it wound me into a frenzy that lasted long after the last note and well beyond the door to the club closing behind me. And the stalker in the audience did nothing to help calm my anxiety.
Each time I’d stepped onto the stage tonight, he’d challenged me. I’d never realized the power a look could have, but his was intense. I refused to give him the pleasure of turning away. My focus remained on him from the second I found him at the bar until I’d shed my corset, swung my ass, and collected as much cash as a three-minute dance could warrant.
Halfway through the song, it dawned on me that he knew this was my last number. I watched him pay his tab and scoot toward the edge of the stool. With his eyes trained on mine, I plowed through the exaggerated movements that drove drunk men wild yet seemed to do nothing for him. He didn’t so much as peek at my chest or cast a glance at my ass. The muscles in his arms twitched anytime another man came near me, and he clenched his fists with every hand that he watched tuck a dollar bill under the string of my barely there underwear. He just never appeared aroused himself—further confirmation that he was here working a job and I was his subject.
The thought of his watchful eye being a paid gig unnerved me and excited me all the same. So much so that I almost lost my footing and therefore my balance on my last pole trick. As my legs spread and I sank to the floor, I held my breath, waiting for the song to end. Darkness covered the stage, and I nearly ran to try to escape the odd power he held over me. I only had a moment before the lights would come back on. I hoped to have a bit of a lead on him. The crowd at the foot of the stage would slow him down, as would the stairs, and then the curtain. However, once he was through those, there would be nothing to stop him from reaching me—unless I had already left. Uncertain of whether my body would go in to fight, flight, or fuck mode, I couldn’t chance a close encounter. Across the room had been near enough.
As soon as I stepped behind the curtain, I hurried to my locker to grab my things. Without looking over my shoulder, I hadn’t been able to confirm he followed me; nevertheless, I felt him. The hair on my arms stood on end, and a trail of goose bumps flowed down my spine. My heart strummed, and it wasn’t from the performance I’d just given. I loathed confrontation, and this guy seemed hell-bent on having one…with me. He had no reason to be back here. He wasn’t with any of the girls. And to my knowledge, he wasn’t responsible for any of them, either. It was a reasonably safe assumption; otherwise, no one would have been talking about him like he was ripe for the picking. Even strippers had standards—albeit, these girls’ might be low. I wasn’t looking down on them. They’d all come from the same streets I had, grown up in the same part of town, and all had some debt to pay to U21. I was no different, except it hadn’t been my actions that landed me here. But no one other than me, Ma, Sam, and Jesse knew that, and sitting on my high horse would only result in a painful fall.
Cinnamon caught my attention with the flick of her wrist and a slight tilt of her head. His breath was warm on my skin. Even without seeing him, tingles erupted in places they shouldn’t have. An unfamiliar sensation of hatred mixed with desire ignited between my legs. Lust had no standards. It was a good thing my mind could override the wicked response of my body. Which it promptly did as I ignored the man standing close enough to me that I swore I could hear his heart beat.
I stuffed my tips into my change purse and grabbed a pair of jeans. His hand landed on the locker next to mine with a clank, and all I could see were the colors that marked his veiny forearm and thick fingers. I refused to give in to intrigue, and instead, I pulled the pants over my legs and covered my ass. As quickly as I’d hidden my lower half, I donned a fitted shirt—sans bra—grabbed my jacket and money, and slammed the locker door closed.
Guys like this didn’t give up easily. If he’d been sent by Sam—or worse, Jesse—I wouldn’t be able to shake him, but that didn’t mean we had to interact. I’d been given instructions, and they didn’t include this beast. If he were looking for a good time, I wasn’t the girl to bother with.
As if I didn’t have a shadow, I strolled toward the back of the building. It was easier to play nice with the other dancers than to shut them out, so I smiled at Cinnamon as I reached the exit and waved just before I pushed open the heavy, metal door. Even if I hadn’t been able to sense him, the thud of his boots would have alerted me to his presence. I prayed Sam didn’t make me wait long. I’d only be able to ignore the Union 21 goon for so long before he insisted on talking.
I didn’t know what it was about stepping outside Swank’s back door, but each time I did, the wind nearly knocked me over. A chill ran up my spine from the cold, and I wrapped my arms around my waist to try to ward it off. I groaned when I didn’t immediately see my ride, knowing I was left with no other option than to wait and pray the animal following me left me alone.
There was less bite to the wind when I wasn’t out in the open. I sighed and turned back to stand against the building while I waited. He hovered less than two feet from me, blocking the door back into Swank. My shoulders slumped with resignation.
“Hi.” His voice was deep and smooth and in complete contrast to his appearance.
I raised my brow but didn’t speak. His dark hair was perfectly messy, and the details of his features I hadn’t been able to see from the stage now screamed at me to memorize them. There was nothing soft about this man until I chanced a peek at his eyes. Pools of molten chocolate, warm and inviting, stared back at me, waiting for my response.
“Hello.” My attention danced from his chiseled jaw to his thick neck just before it flicked back to his face. He was beautiful in an unconventional way—artistic, yet tough. He had a story, but I wasn’t interested in reading it.
I stepped past him and then put my back to the brick so I could see the corner where Sam would stop. He turned to face me, pinning me with the same heated stare we’d shared inside. Clearly, he didn’t get that I wasn’t interested in whatever he was peddling.
“I don’t do drugs,” I informed him. Leaving the emotion out of my tone kept the needed distance between us.
The son of a bitch smirked. “Neither do I.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure you don’t.” I believed that almost as much as I believe in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.
He crossed his heart and held up three fingers like he was some sort of modern-day fucking Boy Scout. “Never touched the stuff.”
It was easier to remain aloof if I wasn’t lost in his brown eyes. I let my gaze linger on the stop sign where Sam should have been waiting. “Probably best in your line of work.”
“Yeah, mechanics and narcotics don’t mix.” He snickered. “Heavy equipment, moving parts, and all that jazz. My cat-like reflexes would be dulled, and I’m not interested in losing a finger…or any other appendage.”
That was a big word for a thug. “Do you even know what an appendage is?” I hugged my body tighter, hoping Sam arrived before hypothermia set in.
He ignored my question, proving my theory. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
Either that was the worst pick-up line in history, or he was dumber than I’d initially thought. Against my better judgment, my eyes shifted to his. I’d forgotten what he even asked by the time he cleared his throat. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. He’d caught me lost in him. Although, he likely assumed it was his good looks that had me tongue tied and not the depths of the windows I peered into.
A horn honked behind him, and the shutters to his soul instantly closed and his jaw ticced. I peered around him to see the familiar black Lexus parked at the stop sign. When I pushed off the wall, I thought he’d stop me. At the very least, I expected him to ask me for my number. Neither happened.
“Nice chat.” It was unnecessary and did nothing other than make me appear to be an utter bitch. Well, maybe it would serve a purpose.
I kept moving, and when Sam got out of the vehicle, I picked up the pace. The few times I’d seen him, he appeared to be more of a stuffed animal than any real threat. Right now, the scowl marking his brow and the way he’d ripped open the door to the back seat had me questioning my initial thought that he would suck at his job if he were ever actually crossed. Having grown up in the projects, I wasn’t easily frightened by the likes of U21 members. I stayed out of their way, and they left me alone. I’d thought we had an understanding regarding Ma’s situation, but I might have been mistaken.
I’d been so focused on the hard lines etched into Sam’s forehead that I’d missed the sound of an extra set of footsteps approaching the Lexus. The man I’d assumed had stayed behind to stare at my ass as it swayed across the parking lot once again breathed down my neck, literally.
I followed Sam’s glare over my shoulder and wondered if this guy had a death wish. Going up against Jesse’s man was almost as dumb as crossing Jesse himself. Everyone around here knew that, and I’d seen this guy pal around with the youngest Silvano, which meant he had to understand what messing with Sam could mean for him.
Sam stepped forward, leaving the door open. He jerked his head to indicate where I needed to go and then addressed my follower. “Ryker, what brings you around?”
For the moment, I ignored Sam and waited to see how this played out. Now that I had a name to go with the face, I realized just how much it suited him. Although, there was no telling if it was his real name or a street alias—most of these guys had at least one of each and a list of pseudonyms as long as their rap sheets.
“Good to see you, Sam.” Damn his voice was lubricant enough for women’s panties to slide down their thighs to the floor.
“I’d say the same, but it’d be a lie.” Sam raised his brow and jerked his head toward the building. “You need to go back inside.” Sam didn’t wait for Ryker to leave nor did he wait for a reply. His fingers wrapped around my upper arm in a death grip of epic proportions that had me crying out in unexpected pain. “Get in, Nikki.”
The yelp had barely left my mouth when an inked hand caught Sam’s wrist. “That’s no way to treat a lady.” The silkiness I’d heard in his tone moments earlier was replaced with a husky, gruff bark.
I had no idea what kind of pissing contest I’d accidentally stepped into, but I was quite certain it wasn’t one I wanted to remain involved in. For nineteen years, I’d managed to avoid any interaction with the gang members in Dacon, and where I came from, that took a monumental effort. I hadn’t dated in high school to keep from getting mixed up with them. I’d disowned friends who’d found themselves caught in their trap or in a relationship with a man destined to do time. And I’d kept my head down every day that I walked the sidewalks to school or work just to ensure I never made eye contact with anyone who might attempt to lure me in. Now wasn’t the time to forget my time on their payroll was temporary, and I didn’t want any affiliation with trouble—Ryker’s or Sam’s.
Sam didn’t release his hold on my arm, and when I tried to pull away to get into the car as he’d demanded, he reacted. The sting of his palm against my cheek burned before I even realized he’d slapped me. Instantly, immense pressure pushed my skin outward as the swelling began.
A low rumble came from behind me as fast as my hand covered the heated pain radiating through my jaw. “Let her go. Now.”
5
Ryker
There wasn’t much traffic out, not that anyone would have stopped to help a woman being attacked by a Union 21 member. Even if someone had, other members were like cockroaches that scrambled when the lights came on. They came out of the woodwork to protect each other. The gang all had the ability to go unseen, even in broad daylight. Add a cloak of darkness and they were untouchable. Cops turned a blind eye on these streets—largely in part due to the fact most of them were on the gang’s payroll. I, however, did not—not in this case.
The crack of Sam’s palm meeting Nikki’s cheek reverberated in my ears. He had slapped Nikki with such force that had he not been holding onto her arm, she would have taken a nasty fall. Yet he still hadn’t let her go, and she dangled precariously in his grasp. I was within striking distance. My hand shot out with laser-like precision, and my fingers wrapped securely around his throat. My palm pressed firmly against his windpipe, and with little effort, I could easily block his airflow. The pads of my thumb and index finger gruffly massaged the veins on either side of his neck, depriving his brain of oxygen. It was a much more potent move than actually choking him, but I wouldn’t hesitate to do both.
My field of vision narrowed as I squinted. “Maybe you didn’t hear me.” I kept my tone even, although I doubt he’d missed the hum that had started in my chest and flowed past my lips.
His eyes went wide as I applied pressure, and his mouth gaped the tighter my grip got. Still, he maintained his hold on Nikki. She whimpered in his clutches, and when I glanced at her, tears had welled in her deep-blue eyes. Fear engulfed her beautiful features, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. But tending to her meant ignoring him—something I couldn’t do.
I took a deep breath in through my nose, my chest expanding as the air filled my lungs. “I’m not going to tell you again, Sam.”
He drew in his arm, bringing her with him, just before he forcefully shoved her away. The sounds of her tiny frame hitting the ground brewed rage inside me. Blood pumped through my veins with incredible force, and my hand shook around his throat from the adrenaline. Nikki scurried back and out of my line of vision. She might be rattled, but if she was behind me, she was safe. I could deal with any injury she might have sustained after I dealt with the prick who’d inflicted it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ryker?” He gasped for air between each word, leaving his question broken and raspy. The unnatu
ral shade of red that had taken over his cheeks hinted more toward purple as he struggled to get the oxygen he needed to sustain his pathetic life.
The couple inches in height I had on him gave me just the right amount of leverage to loosen my grip, enabling him to breathe without him missing my warning. “You laid your hands on a woman.”
Even under duress, he couldn’t calm his ill-placed arrogance. “Shit…she’s one of Jesse’s.” The fool chuckled, as though attaching Jesse’s name to Nikki suddenly made her a possession instead of a human being.
“She didn’t do anything to deserve being hit.” Not that there was ever a reason to hit a female. Not in my book. “How the hell is she supposed to dance with a shiner, jackass?”
If he wanted to play the Jesse Silvano card, he might want to consider what he’d just done to one of his boss’s assets. Nikki didn’t work the floor, but I’d seen the wads of cash men had thrown at her all night. If she had a debt to pay off with Jesse, she was making monumental progress toward doing so. I’d bet a week’s pay that she brought in twice what any of the other girls had, including those who’d spent hours with VIPs.
Sam used both hands to pry my fingers from his neck one by one. Finally free, he coughed and then cleared his throat. As though I hadn’t nearly choked him out, he brushed off his clothes and straightened his shirt. “Bitch ought to learn to listen. Do what she’s told.” He cast his attention to Nikki behind me. Based on the angle of his gaze, she hadn’t gotten up off the ground.
I knew better than to check on her. The moment I saw her swollen cheek or a handprint marking her milky skin, I’d kill him. “Did it occur to you that maybe she pulled away in order to get in the car…like you told her to?”
Dear Diamond Page 4
