Page 59 of Reclaimed

My head whips around so fast my neck muscles clench. I start to release Isla’s hand.

She buries her free hand in my shirt, twisting taut around the fabric. “Aiden!” The thread of fear in her voice pulls my attention. “Don’t! Don’t leave me.”

Palming the back of her head, I yank her into my chest. I search the faces around me until I spot one I recognize.

“Manny.”

He nods. “The police are on their way. Take Stella home. She’s finished for tonight.” For being such a pretentious fuck, at least he takes care of his business.

I adjust my grips my arm is around her shoulders and she’s tight against my chest. “Let’s go, baby.” She follows without a fight.

I bang on the door to the dressing room. “Is everyone covered?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

I look down into her wide, fearful eyes. Tipping her chin with my index finger, I study her. “Yes, I do.”

The door swings open and one of the girls I recognize from the other night stands in the crack. “Who’s asking?”

“Aiden Powell. Stella needs to get changed.”

At the mention of Isla, her face changes.

“Girl, what happened?”

“Rude customer.” Her shoulders deflate with the weak description. “This is my boyfriend. He’s just helping me get my things.”

“Are you hurt?” The girl throws her shiny black hair over her shoulder and cups Isla’s cheeks, inspecting her face.

“No. I’m okay. Just spooked. He said he should strangle me like the other whores.”

My gut clenches at hearing the sentence a second time. I don’t think for one second that he’s the one murdering these women. Just some disrespectful piece of shit trying to scare someone who he thinks owes him her body.

“That sick motherfucker!”

My sentiment exactly.

She snags Isla’s wrist and drags her in. “I’ll have her changed and back out to you in a second. We’ve got a strict no men rule and that includes hot overprotective boyfriends.” She looks me up and down with a pout. “Unfortunately.”

Isla flashes me a tight smile and lets her friend pull her through the door. “Be right back.”

“Be right here.”

The door opens five minutes later and I take Isla’s hand on the way out to the car. Her smooth palm infuses mine with warmth and chases away some of the lingering anger.

“You okay?” I ask her.

She adjusts the hood on her gray sweatshirt with one hand and pulls her long, brown hair out from underneath.

“I’m okay. It’s not the first time I’ve been screamed at by an entitled customer. He’s bought a dance before and was pissed I’m no longer filling my card.”

“Isla!” The back door to the club swings open hard enough to bang against the wall. We both turn to see the same bartender that yelled at me hustling out into the night. “You forgot your food.”

“Thanks, Benjamin.” She releases me to meet him.

“Are you all right?” He echoes my concern from a moment ago. A sinister quiver of jealousy awakens in my gut.

“I’m fine.”

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