Three Hours (Seven Series Book 5) (12 page)

The magazine slapped on the desk. “That’s pretty high-and-mighty coming from a girl who works a pole.”

I stood up and sat on the edge of the desk. “Have you ever seen me dance?” I asked in a sultry voice. I made an extra effort to smooth out the sharp edges in my tone since I was upset. “Obviously you haven’t, or you wouldn’t have made such an insulting remark. Dancing is a form of art, and while I
can
work a pole, I don’t spread my legs or show my breasts when I’m on that stage.” I leaned across the desk and slowly grabbed the magazine, gently setting it back in the drawer. When I stretched across him, I couldn’t help but notice the rapid pace of his heartbeat throbbing in his jugular. It made me wonder where else that blood might be throbbing. “I suppose you’ll find out soon enough when you come to my show.”

“Won’t even notice since I’ll be watching the crowd,” he said indifferently, rising to his feet. “How about you finish up in here while I wait in the hall? Someone might be on the other side of the door, and I don’t like surprises, so hurry up.”

After Wheeler slipped into the hallway, I finished searching the room. The contact book seemed to be the only thing of value, but what if I got caught stealing it? My paranoia was quashed by the fact that Delgado barely visited the club. Once a month—tops. He wouldn’t miss this little book for a day or two, and Wheeler could get me back inside to return it. I tucked the book in my purse and flipped off the light.

But my breath caught when I heard talking just outside the door.

“
Shit, shit, shit
,” I whispered. “Fawn, get your little tushy back to work.”

Her manner of speech was like a sixteen-year-old California rich girl. She played up that role, always smacking on gum and sometimes dressing too young for her age. I didn’t like that type of behavior; men shouldn’t be conditioned to find adolescents attractive.

Carefully, I cracked open the door and peered out. She was smiling up at Wheeler, fanning her one-inch false lashes and drawing attention to the three pounds of glitter spattered all over her eyelids. The next thing I knew, Wheeler backed her into the wall and pressed his entire body against her.

I’m not sure why, but that made my insides crawl. It made me want to grab that stupid elephant off the desk and knock him in the head with it. But since she was buried beneath six feet of man, I slipped out the door and slinked in front of the bathroom across the hall.

That’s when I got a clear view. He had his face buried in her neck, her hand clawed at his black jeans, the hem of her plaid skirt riding up…

“Ahem!” I said, clearing my throat. “Sugar, I’m done powdering my nose.”

When he didn’t stop, I slung my purse in the air and whacked him in the back of the head. He tensed and then glared at me over his shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said unapologetically. “I have to go do that thing.”

Fawn flipped her long hair back to make sure her tresses weren’t shielding her breasts, which were small, round, and aiming bullets at Wheeler through the sheer fabric posing as a shirt. “Sorry, Naya. Didn’t realize you had claim on him.”

Wheeler looked between us as if caught in the crossfire.

I straightened the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “Sweetie, any man I have claim over wouldn’t need another woman to fool around with. I’m all the woman he’d need,” I said in a silken voice.

Wheeler’s right eyebrow arched in slow motion.

Fawn stroked his arm with the tips of her fingernails. “Another time, daddy.” She strutted off, swinging her hips like a pendulum.

Wheeler pivoted around and we headed toward the back door. “What’s with that
daddy
shit?”

“Maybe you should tell me, papa. You’re the one with his hands up her skirt.”

His arm flew out and pushed open the door to the back of the club. I winced at the bright light, and Wheeler’s boots crunched on the gravel as we headed toward his car.

“My hand wasn’t up her skirt. And for your information, I did that so you could get out.”

“Such self-sacrifice,” I said over the hood of the car as he unlocked the door. “Some men throw themselves on grenades, but you chose the nearest half-naked woman.”

He cut me a sharp glare and got in the car. The heat swelled inside and I rolled down my window while he turned the engine over.

“I could have attempted an intellectual conversation to distract her, but she didn’t look like the girl most likely to talk about the influential works of Jackson Pollock.”

“You like his paintings?”

Wheeler slipped on his sunglasses. “He’s a fucking genius.”

“He splattered paint on canvas. An elephant can do that.” I waved at a gnat and adjusted the air as we pulled out of the parking lot.

“Explosive creativity. Not everything can be outlined in pencil beforehand. That’s a man who thought outside the conventional box. Sometimes things that make the least sense are the most interesting. People don’t give enough credit to abstract artists.”

“Perhaps you should have let
him
paint your arms.”

A laugh burst out of Wheeler—rich and bold—the first I think I’d ever heard. It sent goose pimples up my arms and made me smile along with him. When he didn’t say anything back, I lingered on that infectious laugh a little longer. The warm texture of it, how alive he sounded, and I suddenly got a glimpse of the passion beneath his dark, brooding exterior.

Wheeler adjusted his visor. “Find anything back there, Sherlock?”

“Just the little book of names. We’ll see what that unearths. After I’m done with it, I’ll need you to sneak me back in to return it.”

“I think we need to pull over and eat.”

My stomach was growling and I hadn’t noticed. How could he hear it over the engine? “I could use a bite, although if there’s a beef jerky diner in town, I’m going to have to decline your offer.”

“Just for that, you’re eating by yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

The car lurched into a parking space at a burger joint and he shut off the engine. “I’m hungry, and seeing how I’m the one driving the car, that leaves you with little choice in the matter. You obviously have no respect for me, and I’d rather not share a meal with someone who can’t shut off the insults.”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Well, I guess that solves our problem. Maybe fire and kerosene don’t go together for a reason. I’ll sit at the bar, you find a table. We’ll eat in peace and then I’ll drive you home… or to your next shave.”

“Maybe I’m not the only one who needs a shave,” I said matter-of-factly, getting out of the car.

As he stalked inside, I received a call on my phone. “Hello?”

“It’s Reno. I have an address for the cousin. Tonight?”

When I stepped inside the diner, a blast of cold air made me shiver. “Tonight is no good. I have to work, and there’s not enough time right now for me to do all that. Don’t you
dare
go without me,” I said, sitting at a table with my back to the window.

He sighed. “It’s your money, but I’m gonna have a real problem if you blow me off tomorrow.”

“No, tomorrow is good. The sooner the better. Do you want to pick me up or—”

“Have you ever ridden a bike?”

Sweet Mary, no!
I’d seen Reno’s bike, and after my mother’s car accident years ago, riding a motorcycle would terrify me. Nothing between me and the hard pavement but thin air.

“Why don’t you stop by, and I’ll drive?”

“And leave my bike on the human side of town?” he almost growled.

A man walked in and looked my way before approaching the counter.

“Do you want me to come pick you up?”

I knew that wouldn’t go over well. Having a woman in her sporty little Trans Am pick up the big and strong private investigator? I could almost hear male pride crumbling on the other end of the phone.

“This is problematic,” he murmured. “We don’t have a free car tomorrow. Your swinging by is no good unless you want to get me in deep tar with my Packmaster. I should have thought this out before accepting your offer.”

“So let’s do this: we meet up at Sweet Treats Bakery. I’ll zip in and say hello, and you show up with bike trouble. I’ll offer to give you a ride, and your bike will be right in front of the shop where Lexi can keep an eye on it.”

“Damn. You’re good. Let’s do that. Noon okay?”

“See you there.”

After the call ended, I looked up and saw Wheeler at the counter eating what looked like a sloppy joe. He sucked sauce off his finger and shoved a few tater tots into his mouth. I was going to have to give him tomorrow afternoon off. Reno would be all the bodyguard I needed, and I didn’t want to risk them finding out about each other. Reno might back out completely if he found out too many resources were being extended to me, and I needed him.

My, this was getting more complicated than I first thought.

“Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before?”

I glanced up at the man who had walked in a moment ago. A pair of narrow shades with orange lenses sat low on the bridge of his nose, allowing me to see his eyes. His neck and forearms were red in contrast to the skin just beneath his sleeves. He had a small potbelly and hair on his knuckles. I only noticed that because the fingers on his left hand were splayed on my table.

“Maybe I look familiar because you were gawking at me when you walked in?” I suggested. I really wasn’t in the mood for this; clearly he had seen me perform. It went with the territory, and while most were gentlemen about it, ten percent of those customers felt like they owned me outside the club.

“Ah,” he said, as if reaching an epiphany. “Almost didn’t recognize you in a dress. I think you look sexier without it. How come I haven’t seen you at Palazio’s?”

I hadn’t worked at that human club in over five years, and those were desperate times. “Because I’m working in a prestigious law firm.”

“Well that’s a travesty,” he said insincerely. “Are you here alone? I’d love to hear all about your new job. Why don’t I buy your lunch?”

Wow. Way too eager
.

“I’m not interested, and I prefer to eat alone.” I didn’t say it in a rude way, but I’d learned a long time ago not to give a man the idea he could pressure me. Firm and to the point. That lets a girl know who the assholes are right away.

“That’s not very nice. I remember you being so much nicer,” he said, his eyes traveling across my body as if they had a passport. “If you’re busy now, why don’t I take you somewhere this weekend? There’s a nice steakhouse up the road.” He reached out and brushed his fingers on my arm. “I’m Dave. Is Gypsy your real name, or was that just a stage thing?”

A teenage girl at a nearby table was watching with interest, and suddenly I felt like I could be her life lesson on how she should allow men to treat her.

“No, Dave. I’m not interested, and I’d like you to leave my table. I don’t think we’d be having this conversation if you hadn’t recognized me from the club. Be a sweetheart and pay attention when a woman says no.”

Irritation flashed in his eyes. “A girl who strips for a living isn’t a girl who says no a whole lot.”

I stood up from my seat and slapped him in the face so hard that his sunglasses hung askew. “Don’t you
dare
insult me like that again.”

The girl next to me was suddenly holding up her phone, and I knew this was all going on video.

This show needed to end quickly. When I reached for my purse, everything happened so fast. One minute Dave was standing in front of me with a stunned expression, and the next, when I looked up, Wheeler had spun him around and shoved him against the wall. So hard that a picture of an employee’s face fell to the floor and smashed into pieces.

Wheeler threw a series of punches—the third splitting Dave’s cheek and bright blood appearing. Someone in the back shouted to call the police, and that’s when my adrenaline spiked.

Dave erupted with anger and charged at Wheeler, who suddenly stepped aside like a matador dodging a bull in Spain.

When Dave stumbled forward, the teenager stuck out her leg and sent him flying. A chair fell over when he hit the ground. I smirked and gave her an approving wink before grabbing Wheeler by the arm.

Taut arm. His muscles were so tight that he felt like stone beneath my touch. “We have to get out of here, so I hope you filled up on your meat sandwich.”

Did he hear me? I wasn’t sure. His eyes were locked on the human, and I’d never seen the features of his face so fierce. Moving him seemed impossible, so I slipped four fingers down the front of his pants so I could get a firm grip on his jeans.

That seemed to snap him out of it. When he lightly gasped and turned to look at me, I gave him a hard tug and pulled him toward the door. “Come on, sugar. We’re late for the parent-teacher conference.”

Once outside, I realized that Wheeler was compliantly following behind me, allowing me to tug him forward. I glanced over my shoulder and saw why. It almost stole my breath how thick he was—so much so that I snatched my hand back before I felt a surprise. The length and size of him pressed so hard against the fabric of his jeans that it looked painful.