Chapter 5

Hound

“That slippery bitch.” I punch the empty spot beside me on the bed.

I never sleep through someone moving around in a room. I never let my guard down. Doing so is a disaster in the making in my line of work. It rankles that a tiny, twenty-year-old girl was able to sneak out of this shitty hotel room without me knowing it.

I can’t let it bother me for long. Getting out of this room is all I can focus on. I’ve ignored Blade’s texts and calls for two solid days, and I know the damn cavalry is coming, and there’s no way to prepare for it other than having Gigi accessible when her father arrives.

I spend my day walking around the shitty town on the off chance that I catch her going to work, but give up after several hours and go back to the room. I’m ready to leave, whether it be to New Mexico or California. The security job in Cali is what I know I’ll end up with. There’s no way the Cerberus Prez is going to forgive a failed mission, especially one as simple as extracting his daughter from a strip club. Especially not after I fucked her.

I shower and head to the club just as night is falling over Dallas. Even the bright outline of the Bank of America Plaza in the distance doesn’t improve my disposition. I want nothing more than to bend her over and whip her ass for the trouble she caused me, but I gave up blaming others for my actions many years ago.

I order a whiskey the minute my ass hits the sticky chair near the back. I watch, waiting for my moment and nearly come out of my seat when I see a flash of her hair as she provides private dance services to some sad schmuck in the back. She gives the dance one hundred percent, but I can tell her heart isn’t in it. The only thing that keeps my fist from meeting that fucker’s face is the fact that he keeps his hands to himself and never attempts to touch her. Even that asshole has better control over himself than I do.

Downing the whiskey, I wave the waitress over for another. With her here tonight, I know she’ll be the one to close down the club, the final dance on the stage. So I wait, keeping an eye on her. A glance at my watch lets me know she’ll be up there soon.

With only a look, I’m able to force a man from his front row seat. It’s as close as I can get without being up there with her. Another whiskey. Another half-hearted dance by a girl too young to be a high school graduate. I’m disgusted at her presence on the stage, so I keep my eyes down, staring into my glass of whiskey like it’s the most interesting thing ever.

One song fades to the next and I know, just by the musical selection that my red-headed temptress is ready to perform.

The hard-hitting bass of Thunderstruck pounds in my ears, and it makes me wonder about her song choices. AC/DC and Def Leppard are barely within my musical range.

I’m struck stupid when Gigi appears, once again in the smallest scraps of clothing known to man. She might as well be naked, the fabric only covering the areolas of her nipples and that tiny, glorious seam of her pussy. I instantly hate every man in this room, contemplating killing each one of them and ripping their eyes out.

She doesn’t bother looking into the crowd. She concentrates on her moves as she rolls with incredible ease up and down the pole. Every muscle in her body is utilized during her routine. They jump, flex, and respond to her actions. So much control. So much power. My cock, just as it always does when she’s around, thickens and lengthens uncomfortably in my jeans.

When she does finally look out over the crowd, and her eyes meet mine, all I get from her is a sweet knowing smile. I wink, hold my nearly empty glass up to her in salute, and continue to watch her performance. Her back bows deeper, her moves become even more sensuous, and her breathing more labored, which I know from watching her prior to tonight that it has everything to do with me and not exhaustion from dancing. She could dance for days without growing tired. Her body was made for it.

I’m damn near bereft when the song ends, and she begins to gather the money on the stage, triple the amount the other girls before her earned.

Enthralled by the delicate sway of her tits, I come out of my seat when one of the patrons reaches up and squeezes her to the point that she cries out in pain. I get two hits right in the man’s nose before he’s cognizant enough to stumble away.

Exactly like last night, I sling her nearly naked body over my shoulder and head to the front door.

A different man than yesterday, this one somehow managing to look even sleazier, steps in front of me and blocks my path.

“Gerardo told me what happened last night, Annie.”

I feel her tense across my back.

“You know that if your boyfriends can’t handle you stripping, they’re not allowed in my club,” he continues, talking to her even though he can’t see her face.

I don’t even attempt to stop the growl that begins low in my stomach only gaining strength as it makes its way up my chest and out of my mouth.

“You don’t see a problem with these disgusting fuckers grabbing your dancers?”

The asshole’s sinister laugh bubbles up, angering me even more.

“She knows better than to step out of the green zone. She took that risk when she got greedy for the cash on the other side of the line.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” I hiss.

“True,” he agrees. “But I’m the piece of shit that owns this place. You’re fired, Annie. Don’t ever darken my door again.”

“Like I would,” she mutters to the backs of my thighs.

I carry her out, only allowing her to slide down my body once we reach my car. I buckle her in the second her ass hits the seat.

With my nose nearly touching hers, I speak to her for the first time since last night. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last night when I pulled your naked ass from that filthy stage?”

I expect her to cringe, to shy away from the acrimony in my voice, but she just gives me that same sweet smile she gave me from the stage.

“I’m a whore and a stripper. I don’t even know your name, and you think you can dictate my life? You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth so hard I expect to taste the coppery tinge of blood any second. I made her feel like a whore. That mindset is on me, and it makes my stomach turn.

“You bled on my pierced cock which proves you’re not a whore,” I remind her. “And your stripping days are over.”

She cocks an eyebrow, challenging me.

I hang my head and sigh. How can I expect her to trust me, to lie for me if I give her nothing in return? “My name is Jameson Rawley.”

She smiles wider and whispers, “Jamie.”

“Jameson,” I correct. “Never fucking Jamie.”

The nickname is salt in old wounds created by my father when I was a small child that apparently have never healed.

She rolls her eyes at my insistence, but her gorgeous face still holds the smile that will live in infamy in my dreams for years to come.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks when I climb behind the wheel.

“Back to my hotel,” I advise as I pull out of the parking lot. “Unless you’ll be more comfortable back at your place. We have a lot to discuss.”

Finding out where she lives would be ideal. She’s not going to like what I have to ask of her, and I know she’ll want to run again.

“Yours is ten times better than mine,” she mutters.

So she’s left a nice home in New Mexico to live in squalor and dance naked for money? It makes me wonder if her father and the Cerberus MC are as upstanding as they’re rumored to be. I can’t imagine a young girl wanting to leave the comfort of her childhood home without there being a reason.

“Are you hungry?” I ask before we get on the road to my hotel.

She nods, looking nervous.

“What?”

“I left all my money at home. I was in a rush this morning and even left my clutch.” She pauses. “And I dropped everything from the stage when you tossed me over your damn shoulder.”

My brow wrinkles in confusion.

“I can’t buy anything,” she says. “I don’t want to owe you more than I already do.”

“One,” I begin without even looking in her direction. “You’ve been around the wrong fucking boys if you’ve been paying for your own meals. Two, it’s a cheeseburger and fries, not dinner with dessert at Reunion Tower.”

She sighs, and from the corner of my eye, I watch her turn her face toward the window.

“And you don’t owe me a damn thing.”

We order at a drive-thru, but other than giving me her selection she doesn’t speak until we pull up outside of my hotel room.

“I need to give you back the cash. That’s your money,” she says sullenly. “Keeping it only makes me a paid whore.”

I lick my lips and let my eyes close as I try to calm down. Without another word I grab the food and head inside, knowing she’ll follow me.

I unlock the door and set the food on the small table just inside. When she closes it behind her, I move and press my body against hers.

“That’s the second time you’ve called yourself a whore in front of me.”

“You called me a whore more than once the other night.”

My blood runs cold in my veins. I’m guilty of that. Guilty of letting the night get away with me and taking it out on her. I do the only thing I can. I ignore her comments and continue.

“A third time will guarantee I stripe your ass with my belt.”

Her chest heaves up and down as she lets my words sink in.

“Do you understand me?”

Her green eyes find mine, and I’m once again lost to her.

“Yes, Sir.” It comes out sarcastic and petulant, just like she intends, but it doesn’t stop the chill that races over my skin and the blood from rushing to my cock.

“That money is yours, for no other reason than I want you to have it. Do you understand?”

I press harder against her, knowing she can feel my thickening cock against her bare stomach.

“Yes, Sir.”

I groan at the words slipping from her mouth in a breathless whisper, this time with no hint of the contempt it carried before.

“We should eat,” I tell her and take a step back.

She sags against the door at the loss of my body. “I recall you being very good at eating last night.”

“Not happening again, Georgia. Don’t even think about it.”

“Gigi,” she says. “No one but my mother, when she’s angry, calls me Georgia.”

“Gigi then.” I smile at her over my shoulder as I begin to pull the food from the paper bags.

We’re silent for a few short minutes as we begin to eat, but I can’t let this night end without talking to her about her dad, Cerberus, and the consequences of what I’ve done.

“Tell me why you left New Mexico.” I shoot for nonchalance, but this girl can read me like a damn book.

Seventeen years in the Marine Corps, expert training in infiltration and interrogation, and I forget it all in the face of a gorgeous twenty-year-old who has only recently become a woman.