Page 44 of Ballistic

“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?”