“You saw her first set,” Hawk noted.
Mo nodded.
Hawk jerked up his chin.
Then he asked, “Yougonnabe ableto do this?”
Hawk Delgado was not stupid.
And he knew his men.
“Fuck no.”
His boss didn’t look surprised, but he started to lookimpatient.
“Mo—”
“But I’ll do it,” he finished.
“It’s just a job.Her job.Three sets.A couple songs.Thenshe sits back in the dressing room because Smithie doesn’t want her mingling,”Hawk told him something Smithie already briefed him on.
Smithie didn’t want her mingling not because it made herseem elusive and exclusive.
He did it because he knew, like Mo knew, that a lot of menwere assholes, those who weren’t werewhackjobs, andthe ones who were neither of those were at home with their wives.
In other words, Smithie didn’t want her in danger.
Where she was now.
Because she stripped.
“I’m on it,” Mo stated.
“It’s just her job, Mo.She’s good at it.She’s famous forit.But to her, it’s how she pays her mortgage,” Hawk told him.
He didn’t need another lecture about stripping that day (orever again).
But he was surprised Hawk would press this with him.
Mo had four older sisters.
Hawk knew Mo had four older sisters and a mother, all ofwhom Mo looked after since he had his first coherent thought, so no way he’dever be down with a woman taking her clothes off for money.
That didn’t matter.
It wasn’t about it beingherjob.
It was about it beinghisjob to protect her.
And he could do that.
“I’m on it, Hawk,” he repeated.
Hawk gave him a look.
Mo just stared at him.
Hawk got his meaning and because he did, he shared, “Callin’in a favor with a friend at the FBI.That religious fanaticism shit, Lottiemight not be the first for this asshole.Sent him a copy of the letter, he’sgonnarun it through their system to see if there’s anylanguage quirks that match.”
