Page 41 of Slaying for Santa
Where the fuck are you, Bell?! Tell me you’re safe!
My heart sinks.
I didn’t consider that he might be concerned for my safety. Now I kinda feel like a dick, but as the crowd parts, and I recognise the man from the profile my contact sent me about Dion Abraham, aka Snake, my worry falls away.
I found him. I’m going to get Libi back.
Glancing back down at my phone, I quickly tap out a text to Kit.
I’m as safe as a girl like me can be in a club full of gangsters.
I hit send, and before I’ve even slipped my phone back into my bag, Kit is calling me.
I ignore it and head back down the stairs to weave through the thick crowd.
The music in here isn’t really my thing, but I guess that’s because a bunch of gang members and their chicks are here, rapping away with the lyrics while I have no clue what the hell they are singing.
I quickly see it’s not going to be that easy to get into the inner circle of the gang, so I situate myself right at the walkway where they all seem to be coming in and out of a VIP area, and I lift my arms over my head and start dancing.
I’m better at dancing with someone. Grinding against them, letting our bodies roll together. But since I’m on my own and my target is out of reach, I imagine Kit is here with me.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him dance before, but given how he moves his hips when he fucks, I bet he can grind really fucking well against me to the beat of a song.
The trick to doing what I do is patience. Luring someonetakes time, so I get lost in my imagination for quite a while, swaying my hips, rolling my body, and closing my eyes to drown out everyone around me.
Every now and then, a guy comes up and tries to dance with me, but then I realise they quickly move off, and notice that the two security guys at the mouth of the VIP section are telling them to move on.
I grin at one, and then the other, but they don’t smile back, instead, stiffening and turning away.
That’s when I notice someone watching me through the crowd.
Dion Abraham.
He’s on a lounge, relaxing back into it like it’s his throne, a woman on either side of him, but while everyone around him talks, his eyes are glued to me.
Come on, Snake. Take the bait.
I turn my back, lifting my arms and swaying my hips, hoping my dress has ridden up enough to flash my red lacy panties.
“There you are.” Curly pops up in front of me, and I hold back my eye roll.
“Oh, hey. This place is lit!” I call over the music, and he bites his lip as his eyes fall to my nearly spilling over tits.
“You’re a fucking hot dancer. You work on a pole or something?”
Why are guys so dumb sometimes?
“Or something,” I coo, pouting my lips into an air kiss before turning and snapping in half at the waist, pushing my arse against his crotch.
The moment Curly’s hands land on my hips, two sets of feet appear before me, and I snap back upright, taking in the bouncers.
“Miss. Come with us, please,” one says, and on the inside,I’m doing an overexcited happy dance, but on the outside, I frown and pout.
“Are you kicking me out?” I whine like a little bitch. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Ugh, I sound so pathetic right now.
“Nothing wrong, darlin’. Our boss would like to see you.”
