Page 95 of Dance of Devils
“How long?”
“A year.” She swallows. “Maybe a little more.”
“And besides the Zakharova, you’ve been working at The Mirage.”
She nods again, her eyes still closed.
“Tell me what you actually do there.”
Her face falls.
“I don’tmind,” I continue. “But I need to know.”
I need to know how deep a hole she’s in. Not for my fucking ego: it’s not about me. It’s abouther, and seeing if there’s damage above what I can fix.
…To be blunt, I need to know if stripping has devolved into turning tricks.
Even if the answer may rip me in two.
“I…” She takes a breath. “I dance. On stage. Her eyes are still closed as her brow furrows deeply. “I strip,” she finally chokes out.
“On the pole.”
She nods. My jaw tightens.
“Do you give lap dances.”
She tries to pull away, but I hold her hands tightly, keeping her right where she is.
“I want you to know, Brooklyn,” I growl, “that I have at times done things for money that make dancing to get men to part with their money look like puppy sitting. There isnojudgment here.”
She swallows again, nodding.
“Yeah,” she says. “Lap dances. But, I mean, not often?—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” I say gently. I take a slow, deep breath, bracing myself for an answer I don’t want to hear. “Anything else?”
She frowns. “Well, serving drinks.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her eyes snap open, her jaw dropping as she stares at me. “What?! You mean, like…likeprostitution?” She blinks quickly. “No!”
“I mean anything else that sometimes happens in the shadier corners of strip clubs that you may have had to do to survive.”
She shakes her head, her hands tightening on mine. “No,” she croaks again. “Nothing like that.”
Thank fuck.
“That man that I…” I clear my throat. “Dealt withtonight.” I look deep in her eyes. “Has he ever done that before? Forced himself on you?”
She winces. “He...” She takes a shaky breath. “Not like that. He’s…touched me before.”
She shudders and looks away. Good. Otherwise, she’d see themurderouslook on my face.
“Has anyone else at the club hurt you?”
Her mouth purses. “Yeah, the doorman, Zak. But,” she shrugs, “someone recently?—”
