Page 3 of Captivated By Him

“Hmm, strike two. Maybe you should stop while you’re ahead.”

“Two strikes? On the third will you let me leave?” I tease. I’m not as skilled at flirting as Staci is, but I should be able to wiggle myself out of this.

The right side of his mouth kicks up into a playful grin, and he laughs softly. “No, sweetheart. On the third strike, I bare your ass and turn it bright red.”

My brain blanks.

This guy keeps saying things to throw me off my game.

“You’ll spank me?” A blusterous laugh bursts from my chest. It’s the most absurd thing I’ve heard in my life. Spank me. My father, who is no stranger to violence, has never laid a finger on me, but this prick thinks he’s going to show me a thing or two? I don’t think so.

He rubs his hand along his jaw. “Calling the cops doesn’t work for me. Calling your daddy will probably be more trouble than it’s worth, so yeah, you lie once more and you’ll get an ass whooping before I put you in a cab and ban you from the club for life.”

I laugh again, but it’s more from nerves this time. He doesn’t look like he’s kidding. My father’s thrown empty threats at me since I was a kid; that’s not what’s happening here. This guy means it.

“Whatever. What do you want exactly? I already told you I’d leave. So why don’t you just let me go?”

He slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Are your friends legal age to be here?” he asks, his tone neutral. No more bullshitting.

“Yep.”

“And how many are there?”

“Two.”

“Are you going to help me and tell me where I can find them? What they look like?”

“Nope.” I fold my arms over my stomach. There is a limit to what I’ll tell him. Getting Staci and Devin hauled out of the club isn’t my style. If he wants to spend his night hunting down underage kids that’s his business, but I’m not helping.

“Fine.” He pulls a cell from his back pocket, types a few keys then puts the phone to his ear. “Yeah. It’s me. Have someone go relieve Frankie up front, he’s gone.”

Frankie. That was the bouncer.

I step toward him and his blue eyes lock on me, pinning me in place.

“He can’t tell a fake ID from a real one.”

I shake my head. I don’t want this guy losing his job because of me.

He pulls the phone from his ear. “You have something you want to say?”

I pinch my lips together. I can’t rat out my friends.

“I didn’t see him; I mean he didn’t see my ID.” I fumble my words. “It’s not his fault.”

“He didn’t check your ID?”

I shake my head. “No. Not mine.”

“Send him home for the week. Every person gets ID’d. I find one more fake ID in this place, he’s gone for good.” He hangs up.

“I’ll go.” I take a step toward the door, but he grabs my arm.

“Wait, what’s your name? Your real name.”

“Nicole.” I’m honest. What’s a name going to give him? Nothing.

“You’re a student at the college?”

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