Page 10 of Reclaim (Deadly Hearts 3)

ChapterFive

Ruby

Having been dropped off a few minutes ago, by practically being forced to jump out of the moving vehicle before it shot off into the morning light, I compose myself and flick my hair over my shoulder. I saunter into the twenty-four-hour strip club like I own the place. Knowing that I’m on a clock before the chip gets activated, I make my way over to the bar while taking in every patron the club has to offer, plus its dancers.

There are many.

However, I do believe that I’ve spotted this Adam asshole in the corner with his entourage surrounding him.

To double-check, I lean over the bar and ask, “Adam here?”

The silent bartender gestures with his head at the asshole I presumed was the nefarious Adam.

Only nefarious seems like a bit of a stretch. He is a baby-faced cutie with short blond hair, dressed like he belongs on the West Coast rapping about whatever it is rappers rap about these days. Big gold chain around his neck and what I will most assuredly assume is a pair of black jeans that sit down around his ass. Can’t see them because he’s sitting, but I’m as sure as I can be.

I make my way over to the plush banquet in the corner, but I’m stopped by a burly security man who is about the size of Layton and just as menacing. I look up at him with a soft smile to show that I’m no threat.

He glares down his nose at me.

“I’m here to see Adam,” I say, like it isn’t obvious.

“Nope,” he says and then looks over my head, staring into the club, ignoring me completely.

It fires up the engines in a big way.

Buuut, diplomacy rules here. Fucking fuck.

“Excuse me,” I say, waving my hand in front of his face. “Can you at least ask him?”

“No need,” Adam calls out from his throne. “Come on through.”

The security guard steps aside, but doesn’t look at me again. Nor does he check me for weapons.

Not taking that for granted, I push past him and stride over to stand in front of Adam, who gives me a thorough once-over with big baby blue eyes.

“What brings you here?” he asks, meeting my gaze.

“Do you know who I am?” I ask.

“Ruby Bellingham. The Black Widow of Manchester,” he replies, sitting back.

I’m not sure if this is good or bad, but I needed to know before I proceeded.

“So I ask again, what are you doing here, business or pleasure?”

I sit down in a comfortable looking armchair in front and to the side of him, crossing my legs and showing off the Pangolin blade in all its glory. His eyes go straight to it and linger for far longer than I find comfortable.

Don’t run. Don’t run. You’ve got this, Rubes.

I force myself to relax and give him a smile. “Both,” I say.

It draws his gaze back to mine. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m looking to expand. I heard you are the man I need to help me with that.”

“Did you now?” he murmurs, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on his knees.

“I did,” I murmur back, maintaining eye contact as I also lean forward. “Were they right?”

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