Page 18 of Strip Search

“Fuck that. I’ll ride solo,” Smitty answers me.

No. Goddamnit, can’t people listen to me?

“Smitty, take your ass back inside the fucking house and stay close to your wife and kids. Got it.”

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters.

“Yeah, that son of a bitch.” Thankfully he understands and trusts me. “Call the backup line for me and tell them to roll out. Something’s off. I’m not trusting what’s going down. I’ve got to go.”

As soon as I’m tucked away in a hideout nearby that I scouted out as a safe place, I reach behind me and pull out my laptop. It takes mere minutes before I’m up and running. The first thing I notice is that Cody’s not inside. The message that instantly pops up on my screen confirms it.

Fuck.

Chapter Nine

Molly

Walking intoThe Landing Stripduring the day is surreal. With the bright fluorescent overhead lights on, this place looks almost like any other bar in the city. If you can look past the stage and the stripper poles, there’s an eerie calm and silence that is deafening.

“Ah, Harmony. Thank you for joining us,” Dallas’ greeting startles me. He takes a glass of dark liquid from the bartender and nods. “Can I get you a drink.”

I’m the only one here. “No thanks. I’m good.” Warning bells are going off all over the place. Especially considering they refused to let Cody inside. I don’t think they were buying the boyfriend act at all.

Dallas places a hand on the small of my back, the contact causing me to tense. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes gently and removes his hand. “If you’ll follow me to my office. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Swallowing down the anxiety churning in my gut, I do what he says.

Inside his office, he removes his grey suit jacket, hanging it over the back of his desk chair and rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

Taking advantage of the silence, I soak in everything about Dallas.

At six-foot-three and probably close to two hundred and fifty pounds, he looks a lot like an All-American billionaire playboy when he’s dressed in a full suit. Take away the fact that I know how dirty he is, one might even say that he’s attractive. The tattoos that are revealed as he rolls up his sleeves take away the wholesome look and give him the ultimate bad boy look instead.

When he turns around and presses buttons on what looks like a security keypad, my eyes immediately zone in on the Glock tucked into the back of his trousers. Great, I’m unarmed, and he’s probably made me and plans to kill me.

Dallas gives me a gentle smile, one I’m not expecting when he turns back around to face me. “Have a seat.” He motions to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Or if you prefer, we can sit over here if that would make you more comfortable.” He nods to the couch on the left side of the room.

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