“Take it off!” one woman shouted, getting the whole room to chant with her.
Smirking, I grabbed the bottom hem of my shirt and teased, showing a few inches of my abs as I bucked my hips. Launching into full body rolls, I closed in on the crowd. Then I grabbed my crotch and slowly circled my hips.
Women reached for me, but Chloe swatted their hands down before they made contact. As the lyrics talked about wrapping hands around a pole, I turned my back on the crowd and stalked toward the bride-to-be. Danielle Pritchard, daughter of the ruthless motherfucker who called himself “Buzz,” sat in a kitchen chair in the middle of the room, watching me. Locking gazes with her, I once again played with the bottom of my shirt, giving her a preview before ripping the fabric from my body and circling her chair. I used my now torn wife beater to tie her hands behind her back as I popped my ass low, breathing against her neck and shoulder.
Spinning around until we were face-to-face, I checked my handiwork. Her eyes were wild and full of desire as her gaze raked over me. I kept my shit clean and smooth. No doubt my waxed chest and stomach made me a novelty compared to the hairy Neanderthals she was used to. I rolled my body forward in her face until my right nipple was within an inch of her mouth. I held myself there, teasing, before backing off and facing the half-circle.
Dipping my thumbs into the front of my sweats, I continued to roll and thrust, inching the waistband down, waiting to let my pants fall until the lyrics mentioned dropping a dress. Wearing nothing but my fireman themed boxer briefs and suspenders, I kicked it up a notch and gave my cock a squeeze through the thin fabric.
The crowd liked that. A lot. Their reaction was healing, reminding me that no matter how broken I was, or how many nightmares kept me awake at night, I was still a man capable of bringing pleasure to a room full of women. I’d been known to get caught up in the moment and let one of the women pay extra to take me home. Sometimes I hit the after-party with more than one woman.
That wouldn’t be the case tonight, though. No matter how much these bitches planned to pay, there was no way in hell I’d touch Serpent pussy. I had one set, three songs to dance to, a handful of bugs to plant, then my ass would be in the wind.
Straddling Danielle, I continued to roll, thrust, and grind my body, soaking up the way her greedy eyes watched me. There was a certain kind of high that came from making women want me, and I rode that euphoria all the way to the bank.
“American Woman” was the second song of the set. I never got completely naked, but I didn’t have to. I shoved down my boxers to reveal a banana hammock that looked like a fire hose encasing my cock. I stroked myself until the hose was fully erect and then swung that motherfucker around like I was putting out a fire, making all the broads lose their shit. By the time I finished the set, I was all hot and sweaty, as were Danielle and most of the women surrounding us. Untying her hands, I asked her where the bathroom was so I could clean up.
Truthfully, I’d studied the layout of the house and knew my way around—there was a back door through the kitchen and sliding glass doors that let out of the master bedroom—but it would have looked fishy if I walked right down the hall and into the bathroom.
Danielle gave me directions, and Chloe rounded up the women and started discussing the rules for some sort of drinking game, making it easier for me to slip away. I collected my discarded sweats and speakers, leaving a bug that looked like a charging brick plugged into the power strip, before carrying my bag off toward the bathroom.
When I walked past Buzz’s office, the door was cracked open. I hadn’t planned to plant anything in there, but I hadn’t anticipated finding the door open and the office empty, either. The opportunity was far too good to pass up. Stopping, I listened and looked around for a camera before slipping inside to investigate.
That’s when I saw her.
At first, I thought she was dead.
Lying on the floor with her head dropped forward and her short blonde hair hiding her face, she looked lifeless. A tight little red dress clung to her body in tatters, shredded at the top and hiked up at the bottom, exposing one breast and everything from the waist down. Her arm was bloody, as was one of her legs.
Something within me stirred to help her, but she wasn’t my problem. Not the objective. Keeping one eye on her in case she decided to come to life and alert people of my presence, I got down to business, bugging Buzz’s desk phone as well as his desk. When I finished, I headed for the door, but didn’t get far before my conscience made me stop.
I couldn’t force myself to walk out on her. Memories tugged at the back of my mind of another woman who left for a mission and never returned. Could someone have saved her?
If I abandoned this woman, would some other daughter be left motherless?
The blonde curtain parted as she looked up at me. Her lip was split, one eye was swollen shut, and the right side of her jaw was battered. But it was the strength and determination in her eyes that stole my breath away and glued my feet to the floor. All the blood, all the bruises—she’d taken one hell of a beating—but she wasn’t broken. Not by a long shot.
She was fucking gorgeous. Alive. Fiery. One bright green eye swept over my mostly naked body, taking in my costume, my banana hammock and suspenders, before meeting my gaze.
“Leave me,” she pleaded.
It was the last thing I expected her to say, and the only command I couldn’t follow. If I walked out the door, her pleas would haunt me every night for the rest of my life, just like the others I’d left behind. I couldn’t do it.
“Fuck,” I muttered, marching toward her.
Her good eye widened. “Leave me,” she repeated, her words sounding even weaker now. Who knew how much blood she’d lost or what these assholes had done to her? I refused to let fear keep her here so they could finish off the job.
Opening the office window, I pushed the screen out. Setting my bag behind the desk, I picked the woman up and slung her over my shoulder. She weighed maybe a buck and a half and smelled of blood and perfume. Her ass was exposed, so I tugged her dress down, trying to preserve what little of her dignity I could. There was a small black purse lying beside her, so I bent and picked that up, too. She groaned and then passed out, becoming dead weight on my shoulder. Swearing and mentally kicking myself for not walking out the door and leaving her ass when I had the chance, I made my way to the window and climbed through with her still hanging over my shoulder.
My car was parked in front of the neighbor’s house. I hastened to it and laid her and her bag in the backseat before going through the window of Buzz’s office again to collect my shit. sliding on my sweats and sneakers, I walked into the living room and took in the scene.
The bachelorette party was in full swing now, with the bride and all her friends gleefully throwing back drinks. A couple of them grabbed at me as I passed, begging me to stay. I thanked them for their invitation but explained that I had another gig to get to. As I walked past the guards, I made sure they saw me with nothing in my hands but the bag I’d carried in.
The woman was still out cold in the backseat when I slid behind the wheel and started up the rental car. I kept one eye on the house, but nobody came running after us. As I pulled away from the curb, wondering what the hell to do, I called Link.
“Tap,” he said, sounding relieved to hear from me. He’d been expecting me to call and check in after the gig, and it was reassuring to know he’d been anxiously waiting. “How’d everything go?”
“I dropped off the packages, but I also picked one up.”
