Silver Bastard

I had to end it. End him. Maybe I’d get lucky and find my mother’s ashes at his place, but that wasn’t the part that mattered.

What mattered was killing him.

To do that I needed money, enough money to get down to California and then hopefully get away once I finished. I could try to borrow it, of course. But anyone who helped me would become an accomplice to murder. We couldn’t have that. Nope. This one was on me, no one else. I might not be much better than my mother, but at least I wouldn’t take anyone else down with me.

I’d work at the Vegas Belles for a day, get as much cash as I could, and then start driving. If I ran out of money on the way, I’d stop at another club and do it again.

Too bad I hadn’t gotten over my precious dignity in time to save my mom.

The bouncer at the door recognized me. I’d stopped to clean up, of course, and change into something more suitable. I remembered the bartender’s words and wondered if she’d been serious about the blow job.

Probably.

Oh well. I’d had to do worse.

“Welcome back,” he said, opening the door for me. “Decide you want to work after all?”

“Yeah,” I said, putting on my friendliest, least crazy face. “I got cold feet last time—now I’m ready to go.”

“It’s your lucky day,” he said, winking. God, men were stupid. “We’ve got the big boss coming in from out of town, and three of the girls called in sick. Don’t fall on your face and you’ll get hired, no hassle.”

That was lucky. About time something went my way.

The same bartender was inside again. She frowned when she saw me and I wondered what her problem was. Then I realized it really didn’t matter, because I wasn’t here to impress her. I just needed to convince them to let me work long enough to collect a couple hundred bucks.

Then I’d never see them again anyway.

She walked over to me.

“You should leave,” she said in a low voice. “Not a good day to start here.”

“I need the money. Is the manager around?” She nodded tightly, then pointed toward the door leading to the hallway.

“Go down to his office,” she said. “We got VIPs coming in soon. He’s busy, so go fast.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” she muttered. “Fucking stupid to come back here.”

Stupid? She didn’t know the half of it. I walked across the room, noting that only one waitress was working the floor. There were two men sitting near the stage, where a girl danced slowly. Her heart really wasn’t in it, and I couldn’t blame her. Two customers weren’t enough to make any money.

Shit.

What would I do if I couldn’t earn enough? Crossing my fingers, I walked over to the door leading to the office. Three big men stood out in the hallway wearing “Security” shirts. More bouncers.

“I’m supposed to talk to Mr. McGraine about a job,” I said, looking between them. “The bartender sent me. I already talked to him once this week—he said I could come back if I changed my mind.”

One of the guys nodded.

“He’s on the phone. Give it a minute, and then I’ll ask him.”

“Okay.”

We stood there for long seconds, me trying to look like I knew what I was doing. One of the men checked me out blatantly the entire time. A second was checking his phone while the third—the one who’d talked to me—stood still and blank as a statue.

Kind of creepy.

I felt a nervous giggle building in my stomach, and I swallowed it down ruthlessly. I couldn’t afford to blow this by doing something stupid. Finally the big blank guy knocked on the door, as if in response to some secret signal only he could hear.

“Yeah?”

“You got a girl here to see you, boss,” he said. “Says she talked to you earlier this week. Looking for work.”

“Send her in.”

He nodded at me as he opened the door. This was it. Taking a deep breath, I stepped through. Inside I found three men, McGraine and two I didn’t recognize. All of them wore suits and an air of nervous tension filled the room.

“Hi,” I said, trying to radiate confidence. “I don’t know if you remember, but—”

McGraine cut me off.

“You still looking to dance?”

“Um, yeah, I am.”

“Great, you can start right now,” he told me. “Half the staff called in sick. You can do lap dances. Don’t want you on the stage until I’ve had a chance to see you perform. In a while we’ve got some guests coming in—you do whatever the hell they say. We’ll make it right with you afterward, got me? Don’t worry about collecting money up front. You’ll get whatever you’re owed and a cash bonus.”

That sounded shady. My eyes narrowed.

“Do you have any paperwork . . . ?”

“Later,” he snapped. “Get your ass into the dressing room and get ready. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

McGraine strode over to the door and opened it. “Crouse—you take her back. Have one of the other girls fill her in on the house rules.”

Then he shoved me out the door—and it was a real shove, as in his hand on my lower back, propelling me through—and I found myself staring up at the bouncer who’d been checking me out.

Of course Crouse would be the creeper. Just my luck. He smiled at me.