The Vigilantes Collection

by Lake, Keri

  “C’mon, Nan—”

  “Now, sir.”

  Dax tilted his head back against the headrest and let out a harsh breath through his nose.

  I wanted to ask him what the hell was going on, but he opened the driver door and stood against the car. In the next breath, his back slammed into the back passenger window, and as I watched the cop’s hands slide down over his shoulders to the small V of his waist in the worst pat down I’d ever witnessed, realization dawned on me, along with a small twinge of jealousy. When her hand disappeared to the front of him, I twisted back around in my seat.

  She must’ve been a regular hookup for him, the way she so easily went through the motions, as if they’d role-played the shit, or something. Which wouldn’t have bothered me near as much, if I weren’t so anxious to get to the strip club and get some fucking answers.

  That urgency needled me again. We didn’t have time for whatever she had in mind, feeling him up like a kid at a petting zoo.

  I set my hand on the door to exit the car, but at the same time the driver side door flew open and Dax fell back into the seat. Arm stretched, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, he sat there until the cop retreated back into her cruiser and passed alongside the two of us.

  Once she’d taken off ahead, he blew out a breath, shaking his head as he fired up the vehicle. “She’s an old friend, is all.”

  “I think the term you’re looking for is fuck buddy.”

  The angry expression on his face brought a smile to mine. I didn’t know what it was about pissing the man off that elicited a small bit of excitement in me, but something warm and fuzzy moved through my blood when his brows dipped and those plump, kissable lips of his suddenly thinned. Reminded me of a little boy getting teased about liking a girl.

  “So, did you tell her you didn’t want to drop trou in front of your girlfriend, or something?” I snorted, kicking my feet back up on the dash, hoping to make him squirm some more.

  “No, I told her I wasn’t comfortable having my baby sister watch us.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “And you’re a brat who needs her ass spanked.” As soon as the words had flown out of his mouth, he flinched and threw the car into drive, pulling out of the lot.

  “I won’t touch that one.”

  “Good, let’s not talk anymore.”

  “But just so you know?”

  “I thought we weren’t talking.”

  “I’ve had my ass spanked. It was exhilarating.”

  His throat bobbed again, and when he rubbed his hands across his jaw the way I’d come to learn he did whenever he was frustrated with me, I turned my head to smile.

  * * *

  Woody’s had to be the seediest looking place in the entire city. If the X’s and number of times Girls had been plastered on the building was any indication of how seedy, the place could’ve grown an orchard of debauchery.

  Dax parked in a back lot, through which I guessed the talent entered the building. He tossed his wallet into the glove compartment, where a gun lay atop the napkins stuffed inside.

  “You’re not taking that in?” I asked, stealing another glance at the place located smack on the shit side of town.

  “Don’t need cash when I come here. Owner’s a buddy of mine.”

  “No. The gun.”

  “Don’t need that, either. Anyone fucks with you here, they’ll be lucky to walk out in one piece.”

  “So, you’re like the mafia, without all the power and prestige.”

  Dax shook his head, exiting the car. “Something like that.”

  We strolled up to the door. Just inside, a man dressed in black, scrolling through his phone, paused to give Dax a nod. At the easy handshake between the two, I deduced they must’ve known each other a while.

  “Who’s your girl, Dax?” he asked, licking his lips and not bothering to hide that his gaze was planted square on my ass.

  “Off the menu, brother. You touch her, and I’ll have to break every bone in your hand.”

  The bouncer sneered and went back to scrolling through his phone.

  I, on the other hand, took a moment to bask in the delight of not having to say it myself for once.

  Making our way down the hallway, lit by a dim red light, we passed rooms where girls stood before a wall of mirrors, their tits hanging out. Totally oblivious to anyone that might be walking by. Guess it made sense in a strip club, but I couldn’t deny the strangeness. The ease of it. Even when Tesarik had insisted I not wear panties in his house, after a nearly a year, I’d still not grown used to it.

  “’The fuck, Dax? You don’t say hi no more?” A caramel-skinned woman, with what I guessed were size D’s overtop of a glittery bustier, peeked around a doorway. “Oh, I see how it is, you got your girl with you. Too good for us now.”

  “How’s it going, Cerise?” Dax strode back toward her, wrapping her in a hug that pressed those big titties of hers against his chest. “Here on business. You seen Ricky?”

  “Business, you say?” she asked, peering around him at me. “If she’s business, I’d love to see who you do for pleasure, baby.”

  Hands stuffed into his pockets, as if to suggest we weren’t together, Dax backed himself beside me. “This is Nic.”

  Ignoring his introduction, Cerise turned her attention back to Dax. “Ricky’s in his office, as usual.”

  “Oh! Dax is here!” someone shouted from one of the rooms. Two more girls emerged, slightly more dressed than Cerise—in other words, their breasts were covered, but asses still divided by a thong.

  “I missed you, Daddy, where you been?” The brunette slid her arm into the crook of Dax’s and stroked his bicep.

  Daddy. I inwardly rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d fucked all the girls there, or if they were always that friendly with him.

  “I’ll catch up with you ladies later. I gotta talk to Ricky.” Dax’s big hand gripped my shoulder and tugged me to follow after him.

  “Come see me, Dax.” A blonde stood with her hip kicked out, hand resting there. “I’ll give you and your girl a lap dance.”

  “Ah, she’ll love that, Chante. Reste belle, mon amour.”

  “Je t’aime.” She blew him a kiss and slinked back into the adjacent dressing room.

  “You speak French?” I asked as we kept on down the hallway.

  “Nope. Googled that shit.” Dax pushed through a door where the bass of the music from the club pounded through the walls.

  We came to a halt in front of yet another door, and Dax opened it a crack first, before entering a small office where a stocky-looking man sat with his feet kicked up on a messy desk, smoking a cigar.

  Phone held to his ear, he lifted a finger signaling us to wait. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you tonight. Thanks, baby.” He clicked the phone off and pushed to his feet, reaching out a hand that Dax stretched over to shake. “Dax! My man, where the fuck you been? Ain’t seen you in months.”

  “Been busy. How’s things been?”

  “Good. Business is good.” The man’s eyes landed on me, and I caught the corner of his lips lift. “Who’s this pretty thing?”

  “Nicoleta,” Dax answered for me. “Listen, I’m not here on a social call. I want to know if you’ve heard of a club somewhere in the city. Underground scene. Need a tattoo to get in.” Dax slid his sleeve back, revealing the circle seven tat on his arm. “BDSM club in some hotel.”

  “Nice ink. But you don’t want to go there, Dax.” Finger pointed at Dax, Ricky shook his head, falling back into his chair. “Some bad shit. “And I know bad.”

  “We’re looking for someone.” Dax planted himself on the only chair and gestured for me to sit on his lap.

  The urge to frown tugged at my brows, but perhaps it was all show, for whatever reason. Maybe he needed the guy to think I was with him, so I did as he asked, taking in the feel of his hard thighs pressed against my ass.

  “A girl?”

  “Some asshole named
Jasper.”

  Chin angled high, Ricky seemed to chew on the thought, his jaw shifting with his brief silence. He shook his head, dropping his gaze from Dax’s. “Nah. I don’t know where it is.”

  “You’ve heard of it, though.”

  “Yeah. But even I know to stay away from some places in this shit town.”

  Dax huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Any idea who might?”

  “Nobody I’d associate with. Listen, I’ve got some business to take care of here, Dax, but I want you to go out there, have a good time with your girl. Drinks on the house.”

  With a slow nod, Dax slid his tongue back and forth across his bottom lip, making my thighs twitch at the sight of it. “You’d tell me if you knew, Rick. We go back a long time.”

  “I’d tell you if I knew. But that club isn’t my scene.”

  Liar. I could see it on his face moments before, when Dax had mentioned Jasper’s name. The hesitation. The contemplation. He knew about the club, and where to find it.

  “Thanks, brother.” Dax nudged me with his thigh, pushed up from his chair, and with reluctance, I popped to my feet and followed after him toward the door, throwing one more glance over my shoulder to see the asshole smirking at me.

  “Hey, don’t be a stranger, Dax,” he said as we closed the office door behind us.

  “Fuck. Fuck!” Instead of heading back out the way we came, Dax kept on toward the innards of the building. “I need a drink.”

  “He’s lying.”

  “Yeah. He is. Ricky can be tricky, sometimes. I just need to figure out how to approach him. Need to clear my head.” We emerged through a door into the main part of the club, where the music hammered from oversized speakers set at either side of a stage to the right of us. It overlooked a sea of men, dotted with a few women who sat grinding on their laps.

  The scene took me back to a night out with Tesarik, when we’d shown up at a strip club. I’d been with him three months by that point, had established enough time with him that he’d trusted taking me out in public. My job outside of his home was to make him look good. Attractive. Appealing to other women. In return, I was given some freedom in his house. My own room, guarded, but away from the other women. He’d favored me, sometimes, refusing to share me with his men, as the other girls had been forced to do. During the many orgies he’d host in his home, I’d been kept away, often confined to the upper part of the home, where I’d watched from behind the bannister the men and women fucking each other in plain sight.

  “Stay close to me.” Dax’s hand swallowed mine as he tugged me after him toward the bar.

  The bartender smiled, as he approached and nabbed a glass from somewhere below the counter on the other side. “Disappearing motherfucker. Thought you’d packed up and hitchhiked to Canada, or some shit.”

  “Just been keeping it low key. How goes it, Brody?” Dax reached out for the amber drink the man set on the bar and tipped back the shot. “Make it a double.”

  Brody nodded toward me. “You brought me a gift, how thoughtful. What’ll you have, sweetheart?”

  I stepped forward, taking a seat beside Dax, who didn’t bother to tell the man I wasn’t old enough for a drink. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

  “Hard charger. I like this one.” Brody poured the shot, which sat on the bar for two seconds before I tipped it back, letting the burn coat my throat.

  Elbow resting atop the bar, Dax turned to me, mouth curved into a rare smile. “That was some crazy shit.”

  When the second shot was set in front of me, Dax lifted his to toast, prompting me to do the same. “To fucking liars.”

  With barely a smile on my face, I gave a nod. “To liars.” Kicking my head back, I polished the shot and slammed the glass down on the bar. “I have to use the ladies room.”

  “I’ll take you back there.” Dax rose up from the stool, but I set my hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m a big girl. What are you going to do, wipe for me, too?”

  “I’ll walk you to the door and wait outside of it.”

  “How sweet. Just like Tesarik’s men used to do.”

  A troubled expression flickered across his face, and his brows came together, as usual.

  Leaning precariously close to him, I set my hand on his chest and lowered my voice. “I did put a blade through a man who almost shot you. I can take a piss on my own.” True as that might’ve been, I inwardly flinched at the knock to his ego.

  Still frowning, he eased back onto the stool, his eyes stealing the opportunity to give me a once-over again. “Just don’t talk to anyone. These motherfuckers are like dogs—they take any sort of eye contact as a challenge.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes down and my mouth zipped.” I turned away from him and made my way back through the crowd, looking over my shoulder once to see Dax watching me with another drink in hand.

  Horns by Bryce Fox railed through the speakers, while the men in the crowd yelled and tossed bills at a woman on stage, who looked like she was fucking the dance pole. Enough distraction to allow me to slip down the hallway unnoticed.

  Once out of sight, I made my way back toward Ricky’s office and, without knocking, pushed through the door.

  Hunched over scattered documents, he startled, as I entered the office. Scrambling the papers together in a pile, he shoved a cigar into his mouth. “W’can I help you with, sweetheart. You lost?”

  “I need a job.” The small amount of steak and potatoes I’d eaten at Jase and Lucy’s did little to soak up the alcohol I’d tipped back, leaving me with a nice dose of liquid courage, and I approached him slowly, clasping my hands in front of me, in the demure way a shy girl might. “Dax said you might be able to help me out with some fast cash.”

  “Fast cash.” He smiled around his cigar, and took a puff, before setting it in the ashtray beside him. “Then, you ain’t looking to dance, that it?”

  I ran my tongue over my lips and stood before his desk, the buzz of liquor warming my blood. “I’m up for pretty much anything. I’ve been living on ramen noodles for the last couple weeks. I need something a bit more … hearty.”

  His eyes raked over me, appraising me, no doubt. “You are a little on the lean side. C’mere. Let me get a better look at you.” He twisted his chair to the side, his legs falling open in invitation.

  Forcing a smile, I rounded his desk and peeled the jacket off my shoulders. As I let it fall to the floor, I snapped a mental note of the mail opener sat out on his desk. A long, thin piece of metal with a pointed edge.

  “You could be a model, baby. If the cards were different.” He sat forward and ran his palm over my exposed stomach where my shirt didn’t quite meet my hips, and his eyes locked on mine. Small, beady eyes, like most of the men in the sex industry. Lying eyes. His touch felt wrong, stoking up sensations I had to order myself to tamp down, or risk freaking the hell out. Memories of strangers touching me the same way—appraising and always toying with my boundaries.

  At the same time, I hated the way my body prickled, my stomach twisting with excitement and the promise of some reward, eager as a mouse scavenging a maze for the cheese. Lingering effects of Hedonic, I’d bet. All of Tesarik’s captives had been trained to receive any form of touch as some screwed up prize.

  “I’ll give you fifty bucks, you make me come in the next ten minutes.” His husky voice skated across my nerves like rusted nails over glass.

  Relax, it’s only a game, I reminded myself.

  “I’ll do it in half the time.” I lowered myself to his lap, swallowing back the urge to gag when his hard-on pressed against the tight fabric of my pants.

  Hands set to my waist, he held me down harder, as I circled my hips against him. “I’ll bet you got a tight pussy, don’t you, baby girl? Tight and wet. Hungry for some meat, ain’t it?”

  Ugh.

  I reached down between us and squeezed his bulge, which incited a throaty groan, and the moment his head tipped back, eyes shuttered, I swiped up the opener.
On a rush of adrenaline, I propped the pointed metal at his throat and gave a hard squeeze of his nuts.

  His eyes popped open.

  “You’re going to tell me where that club is. The one Dax asked you about. Or I’m going to watch you bleed all over your fake leather chair.”

  “I told ya. I don’t know where to find that club.”

  “You’re lying.” I jabbed the opener deeper into his flesh, and he winced. “I read people very well. I know liars.”

  At his silence, I twisted the swollen bulge in my palm, and he cried out.

  “Fuck!” His brows dipped to fury, eyes set to a murderous stare. “Fine. It’s on the corner of Wyoming and West Chicago. Abandoned-looking shithole. Good luck in that neighborhood, sweetheart.”

  “You know Jasper, don’t you?”

  With his lack of response, I squeezed and jabbed even harder than before.

  “Yes! I know Jasper. Weasely little bastard likes to come in, sometimes. He rents out the back rooms. Makes the girls do some weird shit for him.”

  “What kind of weird shit?”

  “He likes to … watch them masturbate with objects. Piss on him. Cut him, sometimes.”

  “And you let this happen here?”

  “He pays a lot of cash, and he’s mixed up with some fucked-up people. People who would put a bullet in my skull without thinking twice. Yeah, I let the bastard do what he wants. Can you let go of my balls now?”

  I dipped my gaze to his pathetic bulge caught tight between my fingers and back to him. “If you’re lying about the location, I’ll be sure to come back and cut them off of you.”

  The moment I released them, wetness formed on the top of his slacks, spreading out beyond his crotch.

  His body shuddered and seized beneath me. “Ah! Fuck.”

  “Sadist pig.”

  His lips stretched to a grin, eyes hooded with his release. “I like rough bitches. Stick around, I’ll give you an encore.”

  “I’d sooner fuck this envelope opener than let you touch me.” I climbed off his lap and tossed the opener onto the desk.

  Bending over himself, he licked his lips. “Can I watch?”