Seduction

by Violetta Rand

  “And?” Garrick’s bad temper is predictable. When he resorts to speaking in one-word sentences, it’s safe to assume he’s near the breaking point.

  “I couldn’t handle her crying, so I confiscated her cell and listened in. The bastard was in the middle of threatening her.”

  “What did he say?” Robyn asks.

  “Baby,” Garrick says. “Why don’t you make some tea while Craig and I step out?”

  She considers it for a second. “All right. Will you join us, Craig?”

  “Sure.” I hate tea. I follow Garrick outside and we sit on the front porch. The sunset is amazing—the sky is on fire, just like me.

  “Did Marisela tell you about Robyn?”

  I nod and offer my hand. “Congratulations, bro.”

  “I’m going out of my mind already. She’s so stubborn—won’t listen to a word the doctor says.”

  I grin. “She’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out.”

  “Yeah,” Garrick agrees. “It’s her little sister I’m concerned about right now. What did Estevan say to her?”

  “Threatened to slice her breasts off.” Garrick growls. I remember how callously he dealt with Carlos Cruz, the asshole who tried to hurt Robyn. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  He looks at me. “What’s she to you?”

  “Asking as a friend or overprotective brother-in-law?”

  “Both.”

  Fair enough. I’m not sure I can give an accurate answer when I don’t know for certain myself. “I care enough to be here.”

  Garrick’s gaze doesn’t leave my face. “You’re a womanizer.”

  “Don’t feed me that southern gentleman bullshit,” I say. “So are you.”

  “Used to be.”

  I laugh, although darkly. For now, all that matters is Marisela’s physical safety. “Let me help Marisela. She needs a job—Darren wants to meet her tonight. She’s safe with me.” In the back of my head I know she’s not. I want her something fierce. That’s not going to change in the foreseeable future.

  Garrick clears his throat. “If you hurt her…”

  We shake hands. “I’m going up to her room.”

  “Across from the bathroom.”

  I wave to Robyn as I pass by, taking the stairs two at a time. I rap gently on the closed door. There’s no answer. I open it. Marisela is curled up on her bed, crying. I go in and shut the door. “Marisela.”

  “I don’t want your pity.” She doesn’t move.

  I perch on the edge of the mattress, leaving considerable space between us. “The last thing I feel for you is pity, believe me.”

  She raises her head, then wipes tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe you eavesdropped. Some things are private, Craig.”

  I want to kiss her tears away. “Pity didn’t inspire what happened between us today. You did.”

  “And some good that did me. Now I’m sexually frustrated and confused. What are you doing here, anyway? I told you I wanted to go for a ride after dinner. Not see you again.”

  I hold my hand over my heart. “That wounds me more deeply than you’ll ever know.”

  She whacks my shoulder with her pillow. I catch her arm midair—our gazes lock. It goes straight to my cock. A simple look from this girl gives me a hard-on. That’s new. I shift uncomfortably. “You still want a job at the Devil’s Den?”

  She nods.

  “The owner wants to meet you.”

  She drops the pillow. “He knows about me?” She’s shocked.

  “Security footage from the fight the other night. You’re something of a celebrity among some of the girls already.” Her eyes go vacant as she stares at the door. Did I say something to upset her? “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” she fibs. “Private thoughts, that’s all.” She slides off the bed and opens the closet. “See?” she says pointing at the virtually empty space. “These are all my worldly possessions. Not a stitch of clothing to go out in.”

  “Where’re your clothes?”

  “Shredded.”

  I feel my jaw clench. Estevan. I want him to come here. “I’m sure your sister—”

  “You don’t understand,” she says, clearly frustrated. She walks back and forth, tapping every piece of furniture as she goes. “This armoire, bed, dresser, mirror, desk, and chair all belong to my sister. I used to have my own things. Nice things. Including a beautiful wardrobe. I need something of my own to feel halfway human again.”

  “Replace everything.”

  “How?”

  “Dance, darlin’.”

  She glances at me. “You think I’ll make any money?”

  I swallow my laugh. Doesn’t she know how hot she is? “Yes.”

  “Of course I could always borrow some outfits from your guest room.”

  I see the jealousy in her eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Oh really?” She laughs. “Remember, I’ve known about your flings since I was sixteen.”

  “Epic?”

  She frowns. “More like a really shitty comedy,” she spits.

  I shake my head. My eyes burn. “I’m not going to apologize for my lifestyle. Forewarned is forearmed—you should have known better than to play around with me, little girl.” God, she pisses me off so easily.

  Her face is bright red. “Get out.”

  I stand, then walk toward her.

  “I. Said. Get. Out.”

  I tower over her by a good foot. She looks so fragile from my vantage point. She gives me a scandalized look.

  “What are you doing?” she asks.

  I don’t tell. I show her. My mouth swallows any complaints she has a mind to share. Within seconds, she melts into me. I’m on fucking fire again—my hands roam wildly up her spine, underneath her shirt. I groan, the madness rekindled. “Holy shit,” I say, backing up. What’s she doing to me?

  “Not a comedy?”

  “No,” I say, resentfully. “It’s not.”

  We stare, then separate. Perhaps it’s not a good idea for us to get closer than within a couple of feet. I’m starting to think public places are safest. Not our bedrooms. “Do you want to go to the Devil’s Den with me?”

  She nods.

  “Go ask your sister for a dress and some costumes.”

  “I’m dancing tonight?”

  “A guest dance.” And a table dance, if I get my way. “Let’s see how you like it, agreed?”

  She doesn’t reply, but opens the door and heads downstairs.

  Chapter 6

  Robyn chose a short-sleeved white, silky minidress and black heels for me to wear. My hair is braided, with ruby-colored barrettes on the sides. My skirt is so short the crouching tiger tattoo is fully visible. I’m a little self-conscious about my tats, but my sister told me I’d get over it soon. Apparently guys like piercings and tats—she mentioned something about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Funny. Robyn also advised me to punch anyone who groped me, including Craig.

  I still can’t believe I’m standing in the DJ booth at the Devil’s Den. Craig is giving me the grand tour and introducing me to everyone. The DJ’s name is Dave—he went to high school with Robyn. There are rows and rows of CDs and even some vinyl. Overhead, just outside the booth, I see two lights, the kind on police cars. “What are those for?” I ask.

  Dave smiles. “A warning system.”

  I gaze at Craig, then back at the DJ. “Against what?”

  “If the cops are in the parking lot or inside the club, our doorman signals, and I flash the blue light. When they leave, I turn on the red one to signal the all clear.”

  “Why do they hang around here, anyway?”

  “To bust dancers and customers for whatever they want. It’s a power play, nothing more.” Craig looks irritated.

  “Yeah,” Dave agrees. “Just remember when you’re doing table dances to keep an eye out. Half our girls have been arrested for public lewdness, a Class A misdemeanor.”

  “Public lewdness?” I ask.

&nb
sp; “Getting too close to customers during a table dance. There’s a strict twelve-inch rule, but it’s almost impossible to keep it. You’ll see, darlin’.” Dave messes with the soundboard and switches songs. “When you’re ready to do a guest spot, come see me—we’ll pick a killer set.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Craig opens the door and I step out. I can’t believe how big the bar is. The T-shaped main stage connects to a narrow catwalk that wraps around the back, and it’s full of customers. There are half a dozen big screens situated around the club, and beer and sports-team signs hanging on the paneled walls. There are pool tables and the famous 1957 Chevy pickup used as a stage in an adjoining room with a second bar. Half a dozen high-top tables and a sofa and love seat are off to the side. That truck looks really hard to dance on. I’m not worried about the main stage or catwalk.

  We advance to the back, where I note the old saloon-style artwork on the walls: beautiful women posed on velvet chaise longues with their breasts or bottoms fully exposed. They look so authentic. I’ll have to ask the owner where he purchased them.

  We walk to a door in the corner and Craig knocks.

  “Come in.”

  It’s a pretty nice office, with two leather sofas, cherrywood desks and chairs, and western artwork. The street-facing windows are blacked out. I wonder what kind of fun goes on in here.

  “Marisela Gonzalez,” Craig says, “this is Darren Starr, the owner of the Devil’s Den, and Henry, our manager.”

  Darren stands and offers his hand. When I shake it, he gently flips my hand over and kisses my palm. Henry grunts his greeting. “Have a seat, darlin’. Want a drink?”

  “I’m underage.”

  Darren looks around the office. “See anyone who’s gonna tell?”

  I laugh, then gaze at Craig. He nods. “I’ll have a Kir Royale.”

  Darren picks up a phone. “Glenda, send two vodka tonics, a rum and Coke, and a Kir Royale to the office.” He hangs up. “Sit down, kiddo.” He pats the empty space next to him on the couch. “We miss your sister.”

  “She’s going to be a tough act to follow,” I say.

  “Ever dance before?” Darren asks.

  “A few guest spots in Austin.”

  “Where?”

  “The Yellow Rose and Sugar’s Uptown Cabaret.”

  “The Yellow Rose is an old club. The crowd is similar here. You’ll make great money. Most of the customers will dig the fact that your Robyn’s kid sister. If I could get the two of you onstage together, though…” He whistles. “Serious money. We get a mixture of executives and cowboys, tourists and locals. A few bikers now and again.”

  My body goes stiff at the mention of bikers.

  He laughs, then throws Craig a cryptic look. “How many shifts are you willing to work?”

  I don’t know.

  “Three,” Craig answers for me. “Wednesday through Friday.”

  “All days you work,” Henry shrewdly observes. “Anything going on between the two of you we should know about up front?”

  My heart does a little flip. Is it that obvious? I’ve purposely stayed as far away from Craig as possible. And something tells me he did the same as soon as we entered the club.

  “We’re spending some time together.” Craig flashes me a sharp look. Is he testing me? Reminding me we have unfinished personal business? Regardless…Oh. My. God. He’s more or less claiming me. I feel the blood drain from my face.

  “Good to know,” Darren says. He pats my hand. “Nothing to be embarrassed about—it’s perfectly natural. It helps promote good employee relations.”

  Someone raps on the door and then it opens. The waitress with our drinks. She hands me mine and I suck half of it down. Craig is staring at me, his gaze slowly sweeping up my legs. I take another swallow, waiting for the calming effects of the wine. Now he’s focused on my mouth. What’s going on inside that gorgeous head of his? Has he completely lost it?

  “Let’s get you ready for a guest dance,” Darren says. “If the customers respond favorably, you can start work next Wednesday. Okay?”

  I lean forward and put my drink on the coffee table. “That’s it?”

  “Want me to give you the skinny on our 401(k) and profit-sharing program?” Henry asks.

  My mouth twists. I don’t know if this guy is serious or screwing with me.

  “Knock it off.” Craig punches Henry’s arm. “She’s nervous enough.”

  Henry chortles. “Just trying to make you laugh. We’re happy to have you join the team. Why don’t you run to the DJ booth? We’ll send Craig along shortly.”

  I smile, glad to be done.

  —

  “She’s adorable,” Darren says.

  Adorable isn’t what comes to mind when I look at Marisela. “But…”

  “I want you to team her up with one of the veterans…maybe Macey or Desire.”

  Yeah. Darren wants to see a catfight between the girl I used to fuck and the one I want to sleep with. “Always trying to start trouble.”

  “No,” he denies. “Just want to make sure this one knows what she’s getting into. She’s young and inexperienced. Without Robyn here, she’s gonna face a lot of challenges. She’s beautiful. Isn’t that reason enough? What about Sargent? How do you want to proceed?”

  “Let’s see if he picks her out the next time he decides to visit.” I know he will.

  “Sounds reasonable to me. And if he does, we’ll deal with it. You’d better get out there so you don’t miss your girl’s first dance.”

  I finish my drink, then join Dave in the DJ booth. “What’s she dancing to?”

  “Avenged Sevenfold’s ‘Hail to the King’ and Alice in Chains’ ‘Hollow.’ She’s up after the next song.”

  The same song I played in the garage. I rub my hands together. Should I wait here or sit at the stage? Isn’t the answer obvious? I head to pervert row. Not my favorite place to hang out. There are only a couple of open chairs. I grab the one closest to the catwalk. Dave already announced her guest dance a few minutes ago, which brings guys out of the woodwork. Fresh meat is a turn-on to these hard dicks. There are forty guys sitting at the main stage; another twenty line the catwalk. I hope she’s prepared for this.

  “All the way from Austin, Texas, please welcome the gorgeous Marisela to the Devil’s Den…”

  She’s wearing black bell-bottom pants and a sequined bra two sizes too small that can’t contain her perfectly shaped breasts. She stands, closes her eyes, and begins to sway her hips hypnotically. I clench my teeth when she jumps and lands gracefully in a center split. The crowd applauds. Tips line the stage and she’s not even halfway through the first song. I lean back in my chair and watch. She crawls seductively, gyrating her hips and licking her lips. As customers stand, she moves down the line, smiling and accepting tips like a seasoned dancer. Once she gets to the side of the stage where I’m sitting, she faces away from me on all fours and rocks forward, thrusting her tight little ass in the air.

  I lean forward, incapable of looking anywhere else. I dig in my pocket and take out three twenties and slap them on the stage. She turns around and stares at me. The beat of the song intensifies and she arches, pumping air. I’m in a fury—I want her, now.

  The second song starts and she lies flat on the stage. She raises her legs vertically and wiggles out of her pants. Then, rolling onto her stomach, she goes doggie style again and pushes forward. I close my eyes, fantasizing I’m inside her. When I open them, she juts over the railing, grabs a fistful of my shirt, and tugs me close. Our faces are inches apart. I lick my lips, staring into her big blue eyes. All my instincts were correct today: there’s something savage inside her that needs release. And I’m going to be the one who sets her free.

  She throws me a seductive smile over her shoulder as she slides downstage, her attention completely focused on the next customer. I lace my fingers behind my head. Damn. She’s fucking hot. And a great dancer.

  After her song ends, I leave the
stage. As soon as I’m near the bar, Desire grabs my arm and drags me to the main security office. She opens the door, then shoves me inside.

  “What’s going on, Craig? Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “What are you talking about, baby?”

  “Why are you tipping that bitch?” She’s miffed.

  I don’t owe her an explanation. We slept together for two weeks, no strings attached. “Don’t call her a bitch again,” I say protectively. “That’s Robyn’s baby sister.”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I know all about her already. I don’t want you leaving with her again. You’re mine.” She chews her bottom lip, waiting for me to reply.

  I’m close to laughing. Hers? “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

  She wraps her arms around my neck and tries to kiss me. I pull back and disentangle myself from her grasp. “Listen,” I say, holding on to her hands. “Put on your big-girl pants and stop acting desperate. I enjoyed our time together, Desire. But it’s over. Understand?”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  I smile. “Not yet.”

  “You’re an asshole.” She rips one of her hands free and slaps my face.

  I ignore the sting. If that’s what it takes to get her off my back, I’ll offer my other cheek. “Finished?”

  “Not quite.” She hits me again.

  “You’re done now,” I rumble.

  She backs away. “We’ll see how much she likes you after I’m done talking to her.”

  “You know me, girl. I’m an open book. Now go get ready for your next set or I’ll send you home.”

  She stomps into the dressing room and slams the door. There’s going to be some fallout from this. Desire is one of the most popular girls at the Den. She’s also a troublemaker. And she hated Robyn. I can’t forget that. Marisela will be targeted for familial ties alone. We have a strict policy at the club concerning gossip and spreading rumors with the customers, but there’s only so much I can do. I have several confidential informants among the dancers who get monthly bonuses for sharing intelligence with me. It works 80 percent of the time. I have a lot to think about. I scan the main floor. Marisela is dancing on the catwalk. When she’s done, I’m taking her home with me.