Page 13 of Neverland

My chest hurt, and I wondered if the thudding were visible in the dimmed room. “What about it?”

“It’s an unusual song choice, don’t you think?”

Attempting to change the direction of conversation, I resorted to flirting. “It brought you back here, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” he smiled, almost embarrassed. “You looked stunning out there. But while most girls move to earn erections, you gave more of a performance, one I’d go so far to say made you look lost and vulnerable.”

I was right, he could see straight through me, right into the depth of whatever soul I had left.

Jason looked genuinely perplexed. “Why would you choose a song like that?”

“I didn’t choose that song. I never do.”

Now he was confused. “So why perform to it? What’s the meaning behind it?”

It’s simple. The man who makes me dance to that song is a sadistic fucker who gets off on twisting the knife further and further into a wound that never healed.

“Look, Jason, I’m really sorry. I’m not comfortable answering these questions.”

“Why?”

His persistence was wearing thin. “Perhaps it would be better if I found you another girl—” I stood to leave but again his fingers circled my wrist, preventing me from moving without causing a scene.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide in apology. “Your performance really moved me, that’s all. I don’t want another girl. We want you to stay.”

Enough was enough. I was tired of this game. “I know who you are,” I warned, lowering myself so only Jason and Simon could hear. “I know who you are, so you can stop pretending.”

He feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s pretty obvious. We’re trained to pick you guys out from a crowd.”

The same suspicious look that had given them away in the first place, passed between the two men. “Okay,” Jason finally relented. “Please sit.” He gestured back to where I’d been moments before. Folding my arms in defiance, I continued standing. “Please,” he said with more urgency.

“Look…” I began with a fresh approach. “You guys can get me into a lot of trouble if—”

“That won’t happen, we swear,” Simon interjected.

“We are Vice but we’re here to help,” Jason reassured.

“Help how?”

Jason leaned forward, his lips grazing my ear. “We’ve been scoping out the clubs down this strip looking for girls who may be victims of trafficking, or who are forced to be here against their will. We’re well aware this strip is owned by Dominic Salvatore and he’s been on our hit list for months now. Now we may be acting on a hunch, but it’s obvious you’re not like the other girls here. Am I wrong?”

My silence gave him the answer he was looking for.

A moving shadow behind the sheer curtain drew my attention and moments later Dominic emerged, all narrowed eyes like a hungry hawk ready for feasting. His stare moved over the three of us and as quick as he came, he was gone again. Maybe Blaze had told him detectives had gotten past his security. Maybe he was giving me a not so subtle warning to watch my mouth. Whatever the case, he left a cold chill in his wake.

“You guys are drawing attention. He knows who you are.”

“How?”

“I knew before I’d even sat down that you were Vice.”

Both men gave each other a once over. “Do tell,” Simon said, intrigued.

“The shiny shoes, the expensive watch. Your reluctance to hand over your credit card. You know not to drink the sugary cocktails because they’re double, sometimes triple the shot, sometimes laced and you’ve barely touched your Scotch because you’re keeping your wits about you. You hired me for VIP treatment but don’t want a tease. The persistent questioning instead of receiving a dance, and you haven’t bathed yourself in cologne.”

They genuinely looked confused with the last one, so I clarified. “We can pick detectives by how they smell. Men who come in here looking for some attention tend to douse themselves in cologne thinking they’ll smell good for us, trying to make an impression. Detectives don’t come in here looking for attention. They’re looking for other things, like answers to their persistent questions, so smelling good to make an impression on a girl taking off her clothes isn’t a high priority.”

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