She came?
Then she turned and, before he could move, she kicked off the high heels and ran.
“Shit.” He came out of his chair, meaning to go after her. His cock ached like an open wound and only God knew what would happen if he got his hands on her.
Instead, hamlike paws settled on his shoulders, likely with no more intent than to push him back into his chair. Before he could think, Kell gripped a wrist, twisted and jerked the deadly blade he carried at the side of his boot.
“Back off, dude,” Kell rasped, the knife’s edge resting on the bulging vein at his neck. “Don’t make me cut you.”
“Chill.” The bouncer’s eyes widened. “I can’t let you have her, man.”
Kell’s eyes narrowed.
“She’s a friend of my Cherry’s. I can’t let you have her.”
Steely determination filled the dark eyes staring back at him. The bear of a man would clearly die for the woman who had most likely already escaped through the back door.
“Who is she?” Did they know who she was?
“She didn’t say, I didn’t ask.” The thick neck lifted as though to escape the feel of steel against his jugular. “She paid Timbo but my girl said to watch after her. I do what my girl says.”
The sound of a gun’s hammer clicking had him turning enough to see the slender form of the girl Timbo called Cherry, holding a wicked .45 from enough distance that she could fire before he could disable her.
“Back off, asshole,” she snarled. “You hurt him and I empty this gun in your hide.”
Fuck.
He lowered the knife, his gaze connecting with the giant’s and expecting no less than a fist for his efforts. Instead, a smile tugged at heavy lips.
“Timbo says you know Reno and Clint,” he grunted. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you. But the girl wanted to go.”
Kell turned his head slowly back to the woman. The gun was steady; the hammer stayed pulled back, the snap in her eyes assuring him she wasn’t as trusting.
“The girl is gone.” He inclined his head slowly. “If you don’t mind . . .” He waved his hand at the woman.
“Let him go, Cherry angel,” David said and sighed. “Reno and Clint know him. And Timbo’s right scared of him. I don’t think he can catch her now anyway.”
The gun lowered. Reluctantly.
“Do you know her?” he asked the girl then.
“She didn’t offer a name, I didn’t ask,” the woman snapped.
“What was she doing here?”
She shrugged as though answering him didn’t matter. “She called it research. She paid to learn to dance and I taught her. Money talks, and I don’t question it.”
Money didn’t buy loyalty, and it was clear that the stripper felt loyal to the dynamite who had just escaped him.
“She was never here,” he said softly. “You never saw her. You never taught her shit. And if Timbo even acts like he’s thinking of remembering her presence, tell him I’ll kill him.”
Her eyes widened.
Sheathing the knife, he stalked to the exit and left the strip joint with a slam of his hand against the door. The sound of tires screaming from the back lot assured him Miss Emily Stanton and her inept, useless, dead-man-walking bodyguard were definitely escaping. But that was okay, because he knew exactly where to find her.
Three
OH. MY. GOD.