Page 9 of The Collector
Tighter security, my ass.
She remembered the conversations from earlier as she walked to the car.
"Alright, ladies, listen up," Jimmy said, voice firm. "I'm sure most of you saw the FBI agents here this morning. The first thing I want you to know is that your safety is important to me. Starting today, a bouncer will be stationed in the employee parking lot an hour before shifts begin, and then after, you'll be escorted to your cars at the end of the day as well. No exceptions."
Stacy crossed her arms, voice cool. "Not that I don't appreciate the extra security, Jimmy, but some of our better clients don't like feeling watched. What did the FBI say that's got you beefing up protection? Should we be worried?"
Mynx knew why the woman asked the question. Stacy moved drugs—passed them to the girls, but mostly to clients. Being under a microscope wouldn't help her earnings.
"They came asking if I knew anyone who fits a profile they're building," Jimmy said. A pause. "For a serial killer." Gasps and muffled disbelief rolled through the dressing room. The woman stirred like a shaken hive.
"Ladies," Jimmy raised his voice, "Hold it down and let me finish."
The whispers dulled to a nervous hum.
"They believe a serial killer—one most of you have heard of The Collector—has moved his hunting grounds to Culver City. They told me several women have been murdered within the city limits and asked me to pass along a warning to be aware of your surroundings. Don't travel alone. If you don't want to take the warning seriously, you should know that two of his known victims were dancers in their mid-twenties to thirties. A category most of you fit into. They're trying to limit his access to potential targets. So you should take the warning seriously."
Mynx had heard stories of The Collector for years. She assumed he was just an urban myth, but maybe she was wrong.
This was how her day started. A string of bad tippers with roaming hands, each one dangling a crumpled dollar like it was a prize. Like she should be grateful. Like their attention was a gift.
They expected her attention to be—just for them. A private show in a public room. And for that dollar, they wanted devotion.
She gave them heat. She gave them rhythm.
But she never gave them herself.
"You ready to get out of here tonight, beautiful?"
Beautiful?The word on his lips made her cringe. It had been used like currency by men who couldn't afford honesty since the beginning of time. She didn't flinch at the question, let him think she was flattered. It was far easier than dealing with the backlash her snide comments would get her.
"Yeah, I really am. It's been a long day, Evan. Are you working tomorrow?"
Mynx lengthened her steps a bit, widening the space between them. She knew it was a lot to ask for, but she hoped the dumbass took the hint to back off.
"No rest for the wicked—or at least that's how it feels," he answered. "After that visit today from the FBI, I can't see Jimmy giving any of the bouncers time off." He closed the space between them, trying to time his steps with hers.
FBI. That word hung in the air like smoke. He wanted her to react, maybe even confide her fears in him over the situation. She didn't. She let him walk beside her, letting him think their thoughts were aligned, that his position at the club was important, that she needed him. Let him talk.
"I'm just ready to get off my feet and get this day over with if you want to know the truth."
They'd already reached the point in their walk when he should have headed back into the club. But he didn't turn back. Instead, he leaned in—too close, the kind of close that wasn't about warmth.
She didn't move. Just lifted a hand, slow and deliberate, pressing her fingers to Evan's chest. Not hard. Just enough.
"Don't."
The word was quiet, but it cut through the air like glass.
He hesitated, caught somewhere in between bravado and embarrassment. Mynx's gaze didn't waver.
"Look, you want to keep your job? Walk away. Don't make me talk to Jimmy." She let her hand fall, done with him. It wasn't as if she hadn't made her disinterest obvious. The silence, the side steps, the way she never lingered when he spoke.
"No problem, I'll see you later, Mynxie. I'd really like to see more of you," he said, winking as he turned back toward the club. "I never mind seeing that fine ass"
He tossed the words over his shoulder as if they were a compliment. "If you change your mind about us, let me know. You know, any time you're ready, I'd take care of you. Get you outta this club and make an honest woman of you. Offer you my complete adoration… permanently."
His eyebrow arched, cocky and sure, as if the offer was gold.
