Electrified (5 page)

He might as well have been in high school all over again, lusting after the prom queen, not knowing what to do about it other than rub one out.

This evening was different, though, because he had felt Sienna lock gazes with him. She looked right out at him as her act ended. She was smiling, but he could see right into her eyes. She was examining him back as though she wanted to know more about him.

It was disturbing on so many levels. He was a private eye. He should be able to read people. Yet she seemed to be reading
him
, looking deep within him.

He couldn’t begin to figure out Sienna Flower, and now she was trying to figure him out? The thought made him harder than he normally was when he exited the club. Tonight he was practically limping as he walked out.

He needed to get laid, stop coming back to Vegas, and leave his thoughts of Sienna Flower at the door.

Of course, he knew he’d be back at the same place tomorrow night with his eyes homed in on one stripper, his dick standing at attention. Weeks ago, he’d paid the concierge at his hotel extremely well to keep him on the weekend list for the Tunnel. Open ended. No need to waste that.

Leaving his rental sports car at the front of his hotel with the valet, Carson bypassed the gaming tables and slot machines and went straight to his favorite bar for a drink. He grabbed a seat at the far end of the bar and nodded at the bartender, Victor, who now viewed him as a regular and brought him a drink without his even needing to order. Top-shelf scotch on the rocks.

Fuck, he was officially a Vegas groupie. The valets knew him, the bartender knew his drink and had it ready as soon as he stepped foot in the lounge, the front desk gave him the same room each weekend, and he was lusting after a woman who starred in Lord only knew how many other men’s fantasies.

If his FBI buddies caught wind of this, they’d never let him live it down. Most of them were settling down, either resolving themselves to living double lives, or trading in their FBI badges for white-collar jobs. Not Carson, he was living the dream. Fast cars, motorcycles, big money, booze, high-end escorts—or dancers, depending on how you looked at it—and his current bullshit case.

He needed to relax and get a handle on all this shit. Carson caught Victor’s eye and then lifted his chin, smiling when Victor made his way over to him.

“Hey, Vic, how’s it shaking? You got any cigars back behind the bar, or do I have to move my ass to a special bar to smoke one?”

Victor chuckled as he wiped his hands on a bar rag. “You’re in luck, buddy, this is Vegas, where anything goes. I just happen to have a few select ones in a humidor under the bar. Let me grab it and you can pick your poison.”

Moments later Carson inhaled deeply, scotch in one hand, a fresh cigar in the other, his view on the casino floor. Actually, he was relaxing for the first time all week, coming down from his dark mood, and found himself not wanting another woman. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to take care of himself either, which was new.

Surprised at that revelation, Carson decided he was content to only finish his drink and cigar before heading upstairs to go straight to sleep.

There was always the promise of tomorrow night, and Sienna locking eyes with him again.

S
IENNA’S MOOD
dampened when she couldn’t put even the slightest grin on the face of the dark and mysterious guy who’d been watching her that night. He was clearly watching her and only her; this she knew. After years in the business, she could read patrons from afar. Some visited the Tunnel to see the myriad of titillating scenes, whether it be whoever was on the main stage or the vast landscape of lap dances; they were at the club to soak it all in. Others visited to see Sienna. Just Sienna.

This didn’t bother Sienna. She thought it should, but it didn’t. She was bringing in customers, who were often derailed from their mission to see only her and became smitten with another dancer, or two or three. Sienna Flower was a business ploy. She was the draw, a force of nature who brought them into the Tunnel. Once they were inside the club, they couldn’t help but to be sucked into the hedonistic den of pleasure and passion where they could enjoy any number of sexual fantasies.

Not her person of interest, though. The man she had suddenly found both curious and somewhat lust-worthy was gone. He was a ghost after Sienna left the stage, and never engaged in anything more with the other dancers in the few weeks he’d been regularly coming to the Tunnel.

He always quietly exited as she finished her dancing for the evening. Tonight was no different and for some odd reason, Sienna felt isolated and lonesome. This was uncharted territory for her. Being the center of attraction at Vegas’s most popular adult entertainment venue wasn’t only a business move, but also one for protection. Her role as Sienna existed to keep her secure, and embodying Sienna meant she didn’t get attached to anyone.

Her safety rested in no one knowing the true her. Developing a relationship with a customer wasn’t only an occupational hazard for any stripper, but a major risk for Lila.

Forming a bond with a man, other than Asher or the bouncers, meant he might get to know the real person underneath the stripper persona.

Which was a horrible idea. Disastrous. Period.

In her newfound state of confusion, Sienna headed out to visit the club floor and check on her “girls.” She caught a glimpse of Asher leading a disgruntled customer up to his office with Big Mike bringing up the rear. Standing by the somewhat hidden stairs to the office, Sienna overheard Asher going ballistic as the threesome climbed the steps.

“Mike, can you believe this gentleman asked Sadie to go home with him? As if my girls are low-class hookers. Bullshit.”

She paused by the bottom step so she could hear a bit more. Asher really hadn’t been himself lately.

“Nah, man. Guy is whacked if he thinks we would allow our sweet little Sadie to do that, or anyone else,” Mike answered with his typical dry humor, while keeping a firm grip on the customer’s shoulder.

“Well, yeah, it gets better, Mikey boy. He then asked Natalie when Sadie said no.”

Sienna shook her head.
Natalie, of course. That’s why Ash is laying it on so thick.

Mike’s head went from side to side. “Fuck, dude, that’s so wrong. You have no fucking clue.” Mike ran his hand over his short buzz cut before giving the guy a little shove up the last step.

Asher leaned in and whispered something else to Mike that she couldn’t catch before the three of them entered the office and closed the door. Fearful for what might or might not be happening, Sienna decided not to make her second round walking the club.

It was no biggie. She did that sometimes.

Being unpredictable was another facet of her dirty-diva persona as Sienna Flower. Yet she never let go of the facade; she was Sienna all the time. She never broke character. Her sanity and safety relied on upholding her good-girls-can-be-naughty reputation, and a large part of her success with that was based on acting like the prima donna everyone assumed she was. Lila was nothing but a memory, and in order to keep Sienna alive and well, she had an image to live up to…all the time. And she played it so well, only she knew it was nothing but a role.

Skipping her walkthrough of the club floor reminded her fans she was unpredictable and wicked. Sienna Flower was a big mystery and untouchable, but her rounds circling the Tunnel were widely anticipated. She didn’t like letting the crowd down, but one time was no big deal. It would definitely ensure the current customers would return in hopes of an up-close peek at Sienna.

If she hadn’t been out on the floor once already, she wouldn’t consider bailing, but she’d done a few laps earlier in the night. She had her usual cocktail, sparkling water with a splash of cranberry and lime in a lowball glass, knowing better than to drink the hard stuff when so much was riding on her success. Tonight she decided to enjoy it with her protégée, Petal, and a gentleman she was entertaining. The gentleman was being nothing but polite and keeping her friend well occupied and flush with cash.

She liked to keep her eye on what the dancers were up to when she was out on the floor, so she made it a point to join small groups here and there for a little while. This served a dual purpose of making customers feel special, and helped out the dancers with the extra tips they got from the delighted customers. Every night she did this for as many dancers as possible, but Petal was her favorite.

Ravyn Petal, or Petal, as everyone affectionately came to call her, was often mistaken for Sienna’s little sister despite the contrast between Sienna’s golden hair and Petal’s silky black. Petal had started at the club about a year and a half ago, her popularity helped by her soft, smooth skin and round, firm, natural breasts much like Sienna’s.

Both her parents had died in a car accident when she was little, after which she became a victim of the foster care system. Without a stable adult in her life and no real ties to anyone or anything, she had hopped on a bus to Vegas the day she turned eighteen, with stars in her eyes.

Sienna met Staci, now “Petal,” when the girl was answering the phones at the Cat’s Meow, Sienna’s preferred waxing studio and one of the few places she ventured out to on the Strip.

When she did go out to the glitzy side of town, she dressed very low-key, shoving her long blonde hair under a baseball cap and donning super-large shades. Typically, Sienna wasn’t very social when she went outside the club; in fact, she tried to avoid talking to anyone, especially on the Strip. There were too many fans, pawing, touching, and asking her for photos, so she usually grabbed one of the bouncers from the club, often Mike, before heading that direction.

The problem was that Sienna Flower was known all over Vegas. Her picture graced a large billboard right before the famous
WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS
sign. There were Internet chat rooms devoted solely to her performances, the lingerie she wore onstage, and her bad-girl secrets; whatever they might be was anyone’s best guess. Thankfully, no cameras were allowed in the Tunnel.

There was a brief period where all this publicity made Sienna nervous, but the fact she looked nothing like Lila anymore put her at ease. Not to mention, her looks only mattered if she even remotely thought anyone from her old world would be delving into adult entertainment. They would never, ever think, let alone dream she was a stripper who danced onstage and took nearly all her clothes off, baring everything she had to offer.

Still, even if they did, Sienna didn’t look one bit like Lila. She was reinvention, both physical and mental, at its finest.

With this in mind, Sienna seldom went out unless it was a occasional publicity event Asher asked her to do, or her salon trips. For waxing, she went to the Cat’s Meow, and for her hair, she went to the posh private salon for high rollers at one of the luxury hotels on the Strip. Those were her only destinations; everyone else came to her these days. Her manicurist came over on Tuesdays, a personal shopper came as needed, and she ordered her dance clothes shipped straight to the club.

On the day when Sienna had first met Petal, Big Mike had driven her down to the Strip, but he needed to run a quick errand, so she had some time to kill after her waxing was done. Mike was going to swing back and get Sienna at the Cat’s Meow, since she felt more than comfortable waiting there, typically hanging out in the back.

Except on this day, she didn’t stay in the back of the studio; she went to check out the candles in the front of the store. A new girl—Staci
,
according to her pink pussycat nametag—was answering the phone and booking appointments at the reception desk, but stopped what she was doing to step out and help Sienna with the candles. She was so fresh and innocent, a rarity in Vegas, that Sienna was captivated with what she recognized as a younger version of herself.

Deep in thought over what could have been, and where she might have ended up had she not met Asher, Sienna had heard Staci drawl, “Can I help ya?”

Sienna thought back to her early days in Vegas, to her awful outfits, bad hair, and zero clue as to what it took to succeed in Vegas, and she felt something toward the girl. But it wasn’t pity. Sienna had contemplated the girl in front of her, her mind spinning.
If she’s going to make it here, Staci needs to be way more cosmopolitan, polished.

And a rescue fantasy was born.

Vegas was a town of mystique and make-believe. It was an adult fantasy come to life, and there was no room in that fantasy for “hick talk.” Visitors to Sin City wanted to believe they were indulging in a lavish playground for adults. They didn’t want reminders of the farm town they grew up in, or the very image, accent, or background they were trying to lose.

Sienna had answered the question quietly, wanting to strike up more than a conversation with Staci, but needed some time to think about the best way to approach her.

“Yes, will you help me find a few soft scents for my bathroom at home?”

“Whatcha like? Somethin’ flowery? Vanilla?” The girl cocked her hip to one side while her hand rested on it, making her look formidable.