Page 7 of Arran's Obsession

From across the road, I watched the entrance of the huge, eight-storey building containing the clubs.

There were two lines, one where men streamed into a doorway, a curtain concealing the interior and a bouncer giving each a cursory check but moving them quickly inside. The hot-pink sign over the door read DIVINE. That was the strip club side. The other line was busier, with people held in a queue for the nightclub, that side named DIVIDE. I’d never been inside either, so sussed it out.

A pair of bouncers turned away a couple, the dude yelling that he only had fucking trainers so what was he supposed todo. I still had on my running shoes and shorts under a now very distressed leather jacket that was several sizes too big. There was no way I was walking into the nightclub, and not a single woman was entering the strip club side.

Still, I had to try. Straightening my shoulders, I crossed the road and marched up to the bouncers like I belonged there.

The first eyed me. “You lost, miss?”

“No. Can…can I come in?”

“For what purpose?”

I opened and closed my mouth, momentarily stuck on an explanation. Damn, but I couldn’t think of a single reason other than to snoop.

“The only women wanting in here are hen parties, girls dragged in by boyfriends, or the staff.” He folded his arms. “You aren’t any of those, sweetheart.”

“No, but?—”

His gaze left me and went to a group of men advancing down the path. “Do yourself a favour and get out of here.”

My breath left me in a rush of disappointment, and I retreated to my position as watcher behind the line of cars. I needed a better plan if I was going to find my father and his stripper girlfriend.

A taxi halted across from me, and two ladies climbed out, both beautiful and sleek, with their hair glossy and makeup on point. They strolled arm in arm up to the entrance, and the bouncer waved them in without an ID check or a single word. Staff, had to be.

Just like that, an idea came to me.

Tomorrow, if Dad hadn’t appeared, I’d be back, and this time with a way to get inside.

Chapter 3

Genevieve

Friday evening rolled in. I’d worked a ten-hour day, clocking in ahead of the lunchtime rush then quitting at eight, despite requests from my boss to do overtime.

At home, I arrived with the small hope that one of my family members would’ve appeared, but no one was here, same as when I’d got back in the early hours. I’d taken down the eviction notice and studied the small print. Cherry was bang on the money—Dad owed thousands in back rent. We had thirty days until the heavies threw us out.

Terror held me in its grip.

Finding Dad was all the more vital.

At least my brother had texted back. It was a short ‘I’ll call you’ message, but proof of life when I needed it.

I took a hasty shower, the power use burning through the money I’d put on the electric meter, shaved everything, and took off the bandage the stranger had taped on for me last night. My road rash was bruising with shades of purple and red, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Neither was the cut to my arm. I needed to cover both if I was going to look the part tonight.

Pulling on a dressing gown, I dried my hair in my tiny bedroom and moisturised my skin until it gleamed. Then I entered the living room, hunting down my makeup bag.

From the window, I caught sight of a figure outside.

I did a double-take then stared, my heart thumping. It was him, the man who’d mowed me down. He stood alone under a streetlight, the yellow glow falling over him and softening his handsome features. Like yesterday, it was a roasting evening, the heatwave unending, and my mystery man wore a close-fitting t-shirt and jeans.

I hadn’t forgotten my reaction to him. How his touch did something weird to my brain.

If he was here for me, that was…interesting. Perhaps I’d had the same effect on him.

Or maybe he was like Don and just another gangbanger wanting a woman to mess with.

Adrenaline rose in me. I had a half-drunk iced coffee from the convenience store beading condensation on our dining table, my caffeine addiction my only real vice, so my heart was already racing. That was my only excuse for the action I took.

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