Page 9 of Grimm
“Well, if you don’t want to watch or participate in the fun, Miss Coleman,” I whispered, my breath brushing against her, goose pimples covering the exposed skin of her neck, “we need to get on with it. I got shit to do, which doesn’t include watching a threesome you’re not willing to turn into an orgy.”
Beautiful eyes as dark as black satin met mine, her umber skin tinting a pretty shade of red. She nodded but remained silent. Damn, she was stunning. With her large breasts, wide hips, and long, thick locs hanging midway her back, I would have loved nothing more but to pound her from behind until she howled my name in ecstasy.
I walked toward my office with her following and motioned for her to enter before me. The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of her mouth. As she entered ahead of me, I watched her ass sway, transfixed by the graceful movement. Shutting the door behind us, I tilted my head toward the chair in front of my desk.
“Have a seat.”
“Thank you,” she said with as much grace I’d ever heard from a woman, her face still flustered from the scene in the main room.
As I slid behind my desk, I watched as she took a deep, steady breath and then sat, crossing her shapely leg over the other like a fucking queen.
So, why in the hell is she here slumming with me, of all people?
We sat in silence for a few moments. She stared at me while I stared back at her, trying to figure out why in the hell she was here. We were at a stalemate, and I refused to start this conversation. She’d come to me, not the other way around.
“I need your help,” she blurted out, thankfully ending our little staring contest.
She maintained eye contact with me, something not too many men would do. I respected her for it.
“My help?” I stared at her, baffled.
She was an attorney, one of the best in the damn state. What help could she need from a criminal? Was some motherfucker bothering her? The thought bothered me. Why else would a woman like her come to a man like me unless it was a life-or-death situation? I might be a prick, but I hated men who fucked with women.
“Yes, Mr. MacDaniel.” She sighed and gave a resigned shrug. “Your help.”
“First, call me Tavish.” I leaned forward, planting my elbows on the desk, interested in where this conversation was headed. “And what do you think I can help you with, Miss Coleman?”
“Call me, Regina.”
“Okay, Gina,” I said. “What kind of help could you possibly need from me, the President of Sin City MC?”
“My name isRegina.”
“But I like Gina better.” I shrugged, smiling when she huffed. For some reason, I found her displeasure amusing. “Anyway, Gina fits you better.”
“Whatever.” Her lips thinned in annoyance. “Look, I need your help to find my brother.”
“And why do you think I can help?” I sighed, irritated. I’d hoped this was about my father, and maybe she’d learned of the injustice done to him. “Or why do you think I would help you, even if I could?”
“He’s been missing for over six months.” She took a deep breath and released it, ignoring my last question. “He was last seen going into a strip club.”
“Still, my question remains. I don’t understand how I can help. There are a lot of missing people in Vegas and a lot of strip clubs.”
“He was last seen going intoyourstrip club.”
Goddamn it! Of course, he was.
“But even if it is true, I’m not a cop, Gina.” I steepled my hands. “As you well know. Although fucking pigs ain’t worth shit if your brother is missing, you need to contact LVPD.”
“Don’t you think I’ve done that?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t you thinkyouwould be the last person I’d come to?”
She had me there. I’d wondered why in the hell she'd showed up here of all places, but she’d answered all my questions, except one. What did she want me to do about it?
“I’ve exhausted all my resources,” she continued, “including the Las Vegas Police Department. No one can help me, or no one will help me. I haven’t figured out which it is yet.”
She sneered the last part.
Interesting.
