Seeking Vengeance: Callaghan Brothers, Book 4 (6 page)

While she waited for him to get to it, she took the opportunity to study him.  They had only spoken twice before – once on the day she was hired, but that was more of a one-way interview than an actual conversation; she had been on stage auditioning and he’d been sitting in the dark, watching.  The second time was earlier today when he spoke to her about Nick, but that meeting had been down in the bar prior to her shift in the midst of setup and in the presence of the bouncers.  Now it was just the two of them in his office.  Given the total lack of external noise, it was probably soundproofed.

The private space was not at all what she would have pictured for the owner of a gentleman’s club. Instead of garish colors and lewd art, there were neutral, soothing colors that tended toward darker browns and forest greens, and soft, ambient lighting.  It looked professionally done.  The polished cherry desk matched the small personal bar; the chairs were covered in comfortable and stylish sable leather.  A few abstract prints brought some welcome splashes of color to the area, but even they tended toward the subtle.  Overall, it was remarkably understated and simply done, yet very pleasant. 

The man was just as surprising as his space.  Young, well-built, attractive.  With golden blonde hair that looked slightly tousled and rich, dark eyes, he looked more like the boy next door than a sin-merchant.  It was no wonder half the female staff was infatuated with him. 

She could see the appeal, but he wasn’t really her type – a little too all-American, too mainstream for her taste.  Probably drove a BMW.  Listened to classic rock.  Vacationed at the beach.  All good things, but not her style. 

Not that she ever dated; she avoided that like the plague.  But when she did allow herself to fantasize, the men were always a little darker, a little bigger, and little more dangerous and unpredictable.   More like a certain hard-bodied bad boy with wickedness glowing in his crystal blue eyes and a cock the size of a ...
ah, hell
.  So not going there. 

Across the massive desk, Jason seemed to be searching for the right words.  Clearly he had something to say and didn’t quite know how to say it.  As attractive as he was to watch, Nicki was too tired to play games.  She just wanted to go home and forgot this night ever happened.

“Am I fired?” she burst out.

He regarded her, his face interested but otherwise unreadable.  “That was quite a show you put on tonight.”  The words were spoken casually, but his eyes - a warm, chocolaty brown - revealed curiosity, and just maybe, amusement mixed with irritation. 

Her eyes widened a bit.  He had seen?  Of course he had, she reprimanded herself; there were security monitors on the wall to the left of his desk.  Nicki had the presence to drop her chin a hair when she responded. 

“That is what you pay me for, isn’t it?”

Jason’s lips quirked slightly.  He looked way too comfortable in that chair, as if he knew something she didn’t.  She hated that feeling.  It never boded well. 

“Ah, an overachiever,” he chuckled.  “Seems to me that was about more than money.”  He raised the glass to his lips again, never taking his eyes from her. 

“It’s supposed to.  Seem like it, that is.” 

The quirk turned into an outright smile.  “So you’re a consummate professional, is that it?  All about pleasing the customer?” 

Nicki clenched her jaw, felt the heat rise in her cheeks.  It was a wonder she didn’t crack a tooth applying that much force. 

“Are you telling me that’s a bad thing?” she ground out defensively.   

“In one of the private viewing areas?  Hell no.  But out there among the masses?  Fuck yes.”

His eyes flashed to the monitors again.  Hers followed.  The place was still packed.  She could see why that might be a cause for concern.  Any other night and they’d be steadily filing out after the big finale, hopefully with smiles on their faces and their pockets a lot lighter than when they came in.  But tonight there was a different kind of energy on the floor.  The men were more wired than usual, overanxious. 

Jason leaned forward slightly and pressed a button on the sleek-looking black box at the edge of the desk.  “Ben?  Inform the ladies that we’ll pay time and a half for anyone willing to stick around for another hour, but keep them on the stage.  No more lap dances, no exceptions.  And tell Security to keep their eyes open.”

After receiving a gruff acknowledgment, Jason turned his attention back to her.  “Look.  You’re a great dancer, Nicki, but I don’t need the hassles.  First your brother goes Rambo on a customer - ”

“He was protecting me!” she interrupted.

Jason shot her a warning glance.  “That’s what I pay Security for.”

Color rose in her cheeks and flames danced in her eyes.  “Then maybe you don’t pay them enough, because they suck at it.”

“They would have handled it, Nicki.  They wouldn’t have allowed any harm to come to you.”

“Bullshit.”

Jason exhaled heavily and rubbed his eyes.  He was clearly reaching the end of his patience.  That made two of them.

“I am not arguing with you about this, Nicki.  You are not the first girl to get groped.  Call it an occupational hazard, if you will.  Surely you’ve had to deal with things like this before.” 

He didn’t give her an opportunity to respond before continuing.  “I have a business to run.  What concerns me more is what occurred tonight. 
That’s
likely to cause me problems.  I can’t allow that to happen again.  It is one thing for your brother to go all knight-in-shining-armor.  Quite another for Sean Callaghan to do so.  There is a big difference between a fractured hand and a room full of dead bodies.  It would be bad for business and mean a whole lot of paperwork that I would just as soon avoid.”

“What the hell does Sean Callaghan have to do with anything?”

“Why don’t you tell me, Nicki?” he countered.  He pushed another button and brought up her lap dance.  Another tap and the image froze.  Nicki gasped.  Is that what everyone saw?  Her fingers were tangled in Sean’s short, silky hair, the other hand digging into his shoulder.  Her eyes were closed, lips parted, her head thrown back in ecstasy.  Sean’s eyes were on her, his focus absolute, his expression...
fierce
.

A potent combination of heat and shame rushed through her.  She tossed back the remaining brandy in her glass, stalling for a moment until she could get herself back under control. 

“Nothing.  He’s just another guy trying to get his rocks off, that’s all.”

Jason snorted.  “Yeah, right.” 

Nicki glared at him.  Inside, her mind was working on damage control.  Instinct told her that beneath those puppy dog eyes and all-American smile was a clever, intelligent man.  And intuition told her that he was trying just as hard to figure her out as she was him.  He wasn’t the run of the mill adult entertainment pimp; there was far too much intelligence and cunning in those soft brown eyes. 

Once again, she had the distinct feeling there was a lot more to Pine Ridge than appeared on the surface.  And again, she reminded herself that it was irrelevant beyond the fact that there was another male around whom she would have to be especially careful.

“So what you’re telling me is – hypothetically speaking, of course - is that it’s alright to tease men into a frenzy, but not to take any pleasure in it?” 

Not that she would ever admit to such a thing.  Stripping was a lot like acting, really.  None of it was real; it was all smoke and mirrors to create the desired effect.  The lights, the music, the costumes, the stage, the props – they were all part of the scene.  The men paid for a good show, and she gave them what they wanted.  And if, on rare occasions, she wasn’t faking the whole I-get-off-on-being-bad thing, what of it?  No one was the wiser.

Never admit to anything
.  Yep, that was a plan.

He smirked.  “There’s nothing hypothetical about it.  And I think you’re smarter than that, Nicki.”

Unless... maybe he was talking about something else?  Had someone come to him about the questions she was asking?  She was very careful with whom she spoke, but nothing was foolproof.  There was a fine line between appearing garden-variety curious and ferreting out intel.

No, she reasoned, this had to have something to do with tonight.  Nicki didn’t believe in coincidences.  She wondered what, if anything, had happened after she’d gone backstage.  Had Sean done something?  The look in his eyes had been intense; his warning echoed through her once again.  Maybe some asshole had made a snide remark, or commented on her performance and Sean had reacted. 

She suppressed a shiver.  Somehow she knew that Sean’s warnings were not to be taken lightly.  He had this dark aura around him, this sense of intensity, of danger, that threatened to draw her in like a moth to a flame.  All the more reason she had to stay the hell away from him.

Dare she ask?  No, she decided, she’d only be asking for trouble, and it might suggest an interest she did not have.  She had enough problems without making any more for herself.  She was overreacting, that was all.  Too much excitement, not enough sleep, post-climax lethargy and a reduction of brain function – it all amounted to the same thing. 

Jason had to be referring to her behavior specifically.  If there had been trouble on the floor, she wouldn’t be sitting here now in his office with a brandy in her hand.  Nobody called you to their office and gave you a drink to tell you that someone
else
fucked up. 

“So I
am
fired.” 

“I want you off the floor for a while.”

She dropped her eyes, looking at the hands that were clenched in her lap. 
Shit
. 
This
is what happened when she forgot herself, when she allowed her own selfish thoughts to take over, even for a few minutes.  And to what end?  It hadn’t even been real. 

Oh, she had thought it was at the time, but now that some of the fog had left her mind she could see it for what it was.  Sean had sought her out, waved that bill knowing she wouldn’t pass it up.  And she’d taken the bait hook, line and sinker.  It was nothing but payback for her little “handshake” in the garage.  It was no less than she deserved, she figured.  Mess with a man like that and there were bound to be consequences. 

Now she had to try and salvage what she could.  There was too much at stake to bail out now, no matter how much she might want to.  She was too damn close.  “It won’t happen again.”

“No,” Jason agreed, “it won’t.” 

Nicki had a choice to make.  Stand up and walk the hell out of his office or swallow some of her pride and stay.  If she walked out now – without having achieved what she came for – then the past few weeks of PDH – public displays of humiliation – were for naught.  It chafed, but there really was no other choice.

“I need this job, Mr. Michaels.” 

His eyes widened slightly as if surprised.  She was kind of surprised, too.  Her voice hadn’t held even an inkling of the defiant tone she was trying so hard to squelch.

“I’m not firing you,” he said finally.  “
Yet
.”

“But you just said - ”

Jason held up his hand.  “I said I don’t want you on the floor for a while.  In the meantime, perhaps there is something else you could do.”

Nicki’s eyes widened further, then narrowed angrily as his words registered.  She stood up so quickly it startled him.  There were limits, and then there were hard limits.

“Shove it up your ass, Mr. Michaels.  I’ll scrape gum off the sidewalks before I whore for anyone.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”  She turned and was almost at the door before he stood as quickly as she did and took three long strides across the room.

“Hold it right there.”  His voice was deeper, angrier than she’d ever heard it, not that she had much to go by as a frame of reference.  His arm shoved the door closed before she had a chance to slip through it and he looked down into her face.  She glared right back up at him, giving him her fiercest fuck-off-and-die stare.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” she warned in a low growl.  Her mind was already playing through the series of moves that would most efficiently take him down.

“I
strongly
suggest you don’t try.” 

Her eyes flashed, but she made no attempt to make the first move to try to inflict any damage.

“Pull that righteous stick out of your ass and just listen for a moment, will you?  I’m not asking you to do any such thing.  That part of the business is strictly mutual consent, understand?”

She blinked.  “Then what are you talking about?”

“I was thinking maybe you could work the bar.  Can you tend?”

“Oh.  Um, not very well,” she stumbled, taken aback by his offer.  “I mean, I worked in a small town bar for a couple of months once, but it was nothing like this.”

“We can train you.” 

Nicki thought about it.  It could work.  Bartenders heard more gossip than pole dancers.  And while she would still probably be expected to wear ridiculous, skimpy clothes, at least she’d be behind the bar and out of immediate groping reach.  She had to play her part, though.

“How does the pay compare?” she sniffed, crossing her arms.

“The base pay is significantly lower, but the potential for tips is much higher based on increased customer interaction.”

“Can I have a day to think about it?  My mind is a little fried right now.” 

“Sure,” he said.  “I wouldn’t want you to start on a Saturday anyway, too busy.  If you’re interested, come by Monday, around four.”

She nodded.  “Thanks.”  Then she breathed a sigh of relief as she walked back to the dressing room. 

* * *

“S
atisfied?” Jason twisted the lock on his office door and turned around as Sean slipped silently from the private washroom.

“Yeah,” he grinned.  “You did good, Jacie.”

Jason sighed.  He should have known the minute Sean Callaghan showed interest in her she was trouble.  Hell.  He’d learned a long time ago that it was a good idea to stay far away from anything the Callaghans showed a particular interest in, but especially women.  And his little tête-à-tête with Nicki Milligan only reinforced that little gem of wisdom.