Page 2 of Marked

He shrugs. “You’re a friend who happens to be a girl, so why not ask you?”

Fair enough. “I’ll let you know when I’m free and you can bring it over,” I say in way of agreement. Leaving him in his bedroom, I go to his kitchen and pluck my keys off the counter. “Later!” I say it loud enough so he can hear me across the apartment.

“What? No kiss goodbye?” He calls right as I shut the front door behind me. I roll my eyes because he knows damn well, I don’t do kisses.

Once in his apartment hallway, I bring out my smokes and grab one with my lips. Tucking the pack away, I withdraw my lighter and ignite the end of it. After taking a drag, I put the lighter away again and pull out my phone. I open the text from the 666 area code, yeah real original, and memorize the picture and details of my target. I frown when I see the last known location and wince. I’m not a huge fan of going to strip clubs, but at least this club has a more open floor plan. The smells hopefully won’t be too bad.

With an exhale of smoke, I make my way to my red F150 and slide into the driver’s seat. I hate the leather seats when it’s sunny, but at night they’re cool and welcoming. It’s mid-September now, and Vegas is in that awkward stage where it’s hot during the day, but chilly at night. In the next couple of months, I’ll have to start bringing a blanket or jacket for the cold. Unfortunately, I’m sensitive to the cold, something Cerberus says is normal after my transformation.

And honestly, transformation is a bit of a stretch. Apart from my pawprint, nothing physically changed about me. I have heightened senses for hearing, smell, and sight, and can heal faster than a human, but that’s about it. I don’t have the speed or strength of a wereanimal, at least not in this form. I’ve only shifted once, and it was terrifying.

I take another long drag of my cigarette before snubbing it out in an old fast-food cup. I once got a ticket for littering when I flicked a butt out the window on a trip to California, and paying that hefty fine once was enough. Pulling down the visor, I check my appearance in the small mirror and wince. With a tsk, I run my fingers through my black hair, fixing the A-line so the longer ends fall neatly against my collarbones again. After flipping the visor back up, I put my truck in gear and head towards the I-15.

Pulling into Hustler’s parking lot fifteen minutes later, I find a spot far enough away to avoid possible door dings and cut the engine. Since I’m off duty, I reluctantly take off my holster and put it in the center console. Not the safest place for it, but I dare someone to break into my truck.

I make my way to the expansive drop-off zone in front of the building, weaving through the lines of cars and limos waiting in the valet line. My heeled boots click against the polished black surface until they step onto the red carpet leading to the main entrance. The hair on the back of my neck bristles when the bouncer’s eyes greedily rake over my body.

Clearing my throat, I hand him the thirty-dollar cover charge. “Here you go.”

“Oh, babe. You sure you don’t wanna dance instead? I can get you an audition. I think you’ll do just fine,” he purrs, sizing me up once again as his fingers brush against mine when he takes the money.

Gross. “I’m good,” I reply briskly, quickly wiping my hand on my pants.

He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. “You sure, sweet cheeks?”

I shoot him a lethal glare that makes him step back. “Call me that again, and I’ll shatter every bone in your fucking nose,” I promise, hand clenching into a fist. He has three inches on my 5’10 height, but I can drop him to his knees if I have to.

“Bitch.” He hisses but steps aside to let me through as a group of guys come up behind me.

I simply give him the finger over my shoulder and keep walking. Passing by the security check, I glance at a glass door on the right that leads to a sex store. Interesting. Venturing left instead, I enter the main club area. Almost immediately, there’s an overbearing scent of sweat, sex, and alcohol. The loud music, mixed with the chatter of all the people, makes my ears hurt. This is why I hate strip clubs. It’s nothing against dancers or the patrons that dabble in the pleasure they offer, but the smells and sounds make it hard to concentrate.

I maneuver through the crowd, avoiding the staggering drunks and the girls in towering heels that tug them along. Many tables are scattered around the main floor, and it takes a second to find one that’s vacant. It’s towards the middle of the room, giving me a view of both stages. I quickly claim the table and recline against the plush white chair, not at all surprised by the fact that it has wheels under it. Easier to drag a customer along, I’m sure.

A waitress dressed in a sparkly silver and black sequined corset comes over with a tray and a tight smile on her face. “What can I get you?” She asks, the pleasant demeanor so forced it’s sad.

“Just a Jack and coke, please.” I hand her a twenty. “Keep the change.”

She immediately perks up. “Of course! Thank you so much!”

I wait until she’s gone before beginning my hunt. I scan the stages then the floor, looking for the tall woman with the bottle-dyed red hair. The information said the woman is naturally 5’8, so I assume with the stilettos she’s around 6’2, give or take an inch or two. Add in the flaming red hair and she should be easy to spot, crowded room and dim lighting be damned.

Halfway through my drink, I finally spot Ruby, also known as Stephanie Browne. She’s wearing a red bikini top, her bottoms nothing more than a triangle of red cloth that covers her vagina. Her arm is linked through a customer’s, a man who’s grinning while staring appreciatively at her ample chest.

I watch them disappear into the VIP area and quickly down the rest of my drink. Making sure not to look too eager or suspicious, I calmly stand from the chair and smooth down my white shirt. I head in the direction of the VIP room and am thankful to see that the women’s restroom is right next to it. Turning into the hall for the bathroom, I stop and lean against the wall so I can keep my eyes on the VIP room. I’m going to wait for Ruby to come out, ask her for a dance, and then mark her for Cerberus. It will be quick and easy.

Except nearly fifteen minutes pass and Ruby still hasn’t emerged.

“What the fuck?” I hiss under my breath, my patience nearly at its end. I just want to go to bed.

“You okay, babe?” a well-endowed, shapely dancer asks as she exits the bathroom, drying her hands with a paper towel. She has so much perfume on her, I take a step back as my eyes water.

“Peachy,” I grumble in response. I’m trying to breathe through my mouth to get rid of the floral scent stuck in my nose when an idea strikes me. Straightening, I look at the curvy Latina woman and give her a shy smile. “Actually, I was waiting to get a lap dance. Any chance you’re available?”

She gives me a flirty smile and tosses her dark brown hair over her shoulder. “Of course. What kind would you like?”

I point to the area Ruby disappeared in to. “How about one of these?”

The smile widens. “Sure. I’m Synn.”

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