Page 12 of Darkest Deeds

Ava

Direct eye contactcan be the most powerful weapon or the ultimate weakness. It’s one of the first lessons I learned. I never let my guard down. I have rules for myself, and at the top of the list are pay attention to everything and speak as little as possible.

That’s why I stumble when I swing around and collide with metallic gray eyes. I hate myself for not immediately turning away, but I can’t. He’s not looking at me; he’s looking through me. The man in black is sitting at least fifteen feet away from me, but the chill running down my spine warns me distance means nothing to him. It probably bows down to him like everyone else in his path.

Something tells me he’s here for more than the just the show.

My mind is spinning when amidst the usual scent of stale liquor and sex, a wisp of jasmine floats by. Just a hint, but it’s enough to tighten my hold around the pole until I’m at a standstill.

Orange blossoms.

No, it can’t be.

Tearing my gaze away, I try to pull it together, but I’m too distracted. My heel snags at the end of the final rotation, slamming my chest into the pole with the force of a Mack truck. With the wind knocked out of me, I try to cover the screw up by tossing my hair back and crawling across the stage toward a drunk bachelor party.

I try to play my role, but they’ve been annoying shits all night and cheap ones at that. I’m even performing my best routine right in front of them, and they’re throwing pocket change on the stage like some delusional high rollers.

I tell myself it can’t get any worse as I slither across the floor, begging for a buck to be shoved in my jeweled thong. Flipping my hair back, I roll my eyes at the painted black ceiling.

“You’re so fucking hot, Ruby!”

Ruby’s my stage name. It sucks, but I didn’t put much thought into it. No one here cares what these men call me as long as they pay to do it. That’s all it has ever come down to anyway. Money. That’s all anyone’s life is worth, no matter who you are.

I force a smile. Climbing to my knees, I bend down and shove my tits in the blond lumberjack-looking one’s face. Hearing his slurred approval, I cringe just before he shoves a couple of bills at my crotch. Thankfully, I have great reflexes, because when his meaty hand makes a play for my right ass cheek, I kick out a heel and catch him center chest. His mouth rounds into a shocked O shape as he stumbles backward. He’s mad as hell, but I stand my ground, exchanging glares with him before he catapults himself toward the stage.

“Fucking bitch!”

Fortunately, he forgets to move his feet and falls flat on his face. The rest of the bachelor party springs to their feet, staring down at their fallen friend. Nothing about this is funny, but a throaty laugh escapes me anyway.

Fuck it.

I lean down on all fours and smirk at the grabby lumberjack still lying prone on the sticky club floor. “Baby, if you think three dollars will buy you a handful of ass, you need another drink. Then again, it won’t even buy that, so why don’t you take your cheap ass home.”

Dick.

Taking the three bills out of my G-string, I stand and throw them at his chest. “In fact, why don’t you take your three dollars and go fuck yourself.”

Crossing my arms, I glare at the drunk asshole until another wave of goosebumps break across my bare chest. I don’t have to look to know he’s staring, but I do anyway.

Then I wish I hadn’t.

The man in black is bathed in scattered shadows, but even with scarce lighting, those electric eyes glow. Except they’re different. Whereas before they’d been complete ice, now they’re edged in darkness. They’re dangerously narrowed, morphing into the sharp point of a knife and carving the lumberjack’s face to shreds. I can’t move or breathe in fear of what he’ll do. He doesn’t move either, his unrelenting gaze strained as if he’s fighting something back and losing.

He’s deadly.

The words come out of nowhere, but my gut is never wrong. I need to tell our bouncer to watch out for this guy tonight.

As if I conjured him, I see Blade pick up the lumberjack by the collar and escort him out. The next girl takes the stage, and I tear through the club, grabbing the behemoth of a man’s arm the minute he steps back inside. Before I can say a word, he spins me around, pressing my back against the wall and shielding me from view.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” he hisses while glancing over his shoulder. “You can’t be out here dressed like that.”

Blade’s biceps are the size of my waist, and his ruddy complexion makes him look like he’s constantly two seconds away from ripping someone’s face off. However, I’ve known the man since I was a teenager. Unless provoked, he’d sooner catch a mouse and set it free than snap its neck.

I point at the stage. “I was just up there dressed like this.”

“That’s different, and you know it. You’re safe up there. Out here…” He trails off, his meaty hand brushing over his closely cropped brown hair.

I’m about to remind him that I can handle myself, when I see his pinched eyebrows and downturned mouth.

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