Wed to a SEAL (Hot SEALs) (Volume 8) (11 page)

“
Your
girls?”

He tipped his head. “Yup. I’m the owner of this club.”

“Oh.” He turned to face the man more fully and extended his right hand. “Rocky Mangiano.”

The man gripped his with his own beefy hand. “Pete O’Neill. You Navy?”

No use denying that. It was on the damn bumper sticker on his truck in the parking lot. He should probably peel that thing off but for now, he nodded. “Yeah.”

“You involved with one of my dancers?”

“No. Well, yes, but not in the way you’re insinuating.”

“Wasn’t insinuating anything. I’m outright asking.” The man’s gaze was steady as it held Rocky’s.

Rocky was usually a pretty good judge of character and this man struck him as trustworthy. “Isabel.”

The man’s brows rose. “Since you know the name I cut her checks to and not her stage name, I’m going to take that as a yes, you are involved.”

“It’s not as simple as that.” Rocky leaned in, keeping is voice as low as he could and still be heard over the pounding dance music. “You know she has a kid?”

“I think I’ve heard that, yeah.”

“Well, I’m here to make sure both Isabel and Lola stay safe.”

“Safe from whom?”

“Someone from her past who’s bad news.”

“The kid’s father?”

Surprised he’d guessed, Rocky said, “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” The bartender leaned closer. “I figured there was some reason she showed up here looking for a job. We get all kinds of girls working here, but not usually like her.”

“Meaning what? What’s she like?”

“Shy. Timid almost.” He shook his head. “Her audition was so bad, I honestly only gave her the job because I felt sorry for her.”

Rocky frowned. “She didn’t look so bad up there today.”

“That’s because the other girls took her under their wing. Taught her. She’s a quick learner and a hard worker. Now she’s got a couple of months here, you’d never know she was so completely wrong for this job when she started.”

Rocky wasn’t sure if Isabel being such an accomplished stripper now was a good thing, but he could agree completely she was bright and a hard worker. He could see that himself.

“You know, I pride myself on making sure my girls are safe.”

“I didn’t mean any offense that you’re not doing a good job, but we’re not talking an overzealous admirer here.”

“I guess not or she wouldn’t need hired muscle.”

Rocky snorted. “Since she’s not paying me, I’m not exactly hired muscle.”

“No. You’re just a friend.”

Rocky nodded. “Yup.”

The bartender pulled his mouth into a crooked smile. “Okay. Got it. And if she needs any time off to deal with this situation, she’s got it. The girls are good about taking extra shifts.”

“Thanks. That’s helpful. I’ll tell her. She was worried about taking time off.”

“No problem. Oh, and by the way, your
friend
is about to take the stage again.”

Rocky spun toward the raised, spotlighted wooden runway as the bartender chuckled behind him.

At the moment, he didn’t give a shit what the club’s owner thought. Besides, the man was right. Rocky wanted to be much more than Isabel’s friend . . . particularly now as she strutted her stuff across the stage.

He’d never felt so torn in all his life. Half of him wanted to wrap a blanket around her to hide the costume that showed much too much skin. He’d love to jump up on that stage, toss her over his shoulder and take her far away from all the gawking eyes on her now.

The other half of him had gone dry in the mouth as he watched her bend at the waist and stick her tempting ass high in the air. That half wanted to jump on stage too, but not to cover her up. Rather to strip her down and take what she so artfully offered.

It was just a show, he reminded himself. That offer wasn’t real at all and it wasn’t for him. It was for every man in the room willing to part with a dollar—or twenty—so she could pay her rent and support her daughter.

That thought brought him back around full circle and he wanted her off that stage and back safe at Rick’s place with Lola.

He noticed the icy glass of soda the bartender had set on the cocktail napkin by his elbow on the bar. Rocky drew in a long slow sip through the straw.

Maybe he should order a drink. Between the guilt, the desire, and the hard-on pressing against the zipper of his jeans he sure as hell felt like he needed one about now.

The guilt wasn’t enough to keep his eyes off the stage though, or his mind from slipping into lurid thoughts of Isabel.

He should probably just go sit with that group of drooling sailors who were now standing so they could better shove dollar bills into the very few items she still had on.

Rocky curled his hand into a fist and drew in an angry breath.

The bartender’s laugh had him glancing at the man, who grinned and shook his head. “It takes a lot of strength to be able to handle falling for a girl in this profession.”

He opened his mouth to say he hadn’t fallen for her, until he realized he didn’t believe his own bullshit, so there was no way the bartender was going to.

Instead, Rocky tipped his head. “Yeah. I’m starting to realize that.”

CHAPTER 11

To say her shift at the club had been strange would be a vast understatement.

Young guys from one of the local Navy bases were the usual clientele for a weekend afternoon, but having Rocky watching her for all the hours during which she worked made everything seem different.

Isabel hadn’t been that self-conscious since her first week of working at the club. Yes, that was only a couple of months ago but it seemed a lifetime.

It might as well have been.

She usually tuned out the audience as much as possible when on stage. The glare of the lights made it easy enough to do.

Those same lights made it almost impossible for her to actually see Rocky seated in the back of the room at the bar, but he was there. She felt him. Felt his gaze on her.

Felt—or at least imagined—what he thought of the job she’d had to resort to as he watched her on stage. Letting men shove bills into her G-string. Taking her clothes off for money.

Isabel opened the door of her locker and shoved the bills she held in her fist into the inside pocket in her oversized tote bag. After safely zipping away the tips that would help to pay for a hotel room until she could go back to her apartment, if she ever could, she fished in the bottom of the bag for her cell phone.

One glance at the multiple notifications on the readout had her heart pounding. Scrolling down she saw a missed call, a text and a voicemail, all from her neighbor.

It could be nothing. Maybe Hannah was just wondering if Isabel needed a babysitter this week.

Or it could be something—like Tito snooping around the apartment again.

The only way to find out would be to call—and that scared the hell out of her because in some misguided effort at self-preservation not knowing felt safer than knowing.

She was wrong of course, but she hadn’t been right a whole lot lately so . . .

Meanwhile, her battery icon was showing in the red. She could only hope her battery lasted long enough so she could listen to and deal with whatever the message from her neighbor was.

She needed to plug in her phone. To do that she had to find where she’d put her charger yesterday during the great exodus from the apartment. It had to be with her stuff stashed at Rick and Darci’s house. Either in her suitcase in Darci’s bedroom or in the garage in one of the many bags of stuff.

She let out a long shaky breath.

“Everything okay?”

Isabel spun away from her locker to see Jasmine had come into the dressing room. “Yeah. Fine. I just missed a call and my battery’s dead so I can’t get the voicemail.”

“You worried that call is about the ex?” Leaning in to check her makeup, Jasmine met Isabel’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror as she asked the question.

The other dancers were all aware she had a baby and that the situation with her ex was bad, which is why she’d left Miami. When she’d arrived today she’d revealed the latest to Jasmine.

She’d realized early on that she needed to tell them about the situation. The girls could be in danger because of her. Tito had never cared much about collateral damage.

“I’m a little worried that call from my neighbor might be to tell me he was back snooping around my apartment. Not that there’s anything there for him to find anymore since I moved out.”

There wasn’t much that survived Rocky and Jon’s sweep. Some food in the cabinets and fridge was allowed to stay but only if it didn’t hint at Lola’s existence. Everything else went.

Jasmine turned to face her. “Anything you need, you know you’ve got it. Money. A sofa to crash on.”

The generous offer from her coworker, on top of the stress that already had worn her down, had Isabel tearing up. She drew in a breath to settle herself. “So far I’ve got it covered. But thank you.”

“Where are you staying? A hotel?”

“Actually, this is going to sound strange, but you know Rocky? The Navy guy who’s here sometimes. The one with the beard.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “If you mean the one who was here for your entire shift today, then yeah, I know him.”

“I stayed with him at his friends’ house last night.” Isabel decided she’d better expand her explanation as Jasmine looked as if she was making assumptions. Untrue assumptions. “His friend’s sister stayed at her boyfriend’s place and let me and Lola sleep in her room and Rocky slept on the sofa in the living room. Though actually I’m not sure he slept at all. I think he stayed up all night keeping watch for Tito.”

All her babbling did was reinforce the shock visible on Jasmine’s face.

“I didn’t know you knew him. I’ve never seen you even talk to him.” Jasmine folded her arms and waited.

“I didn’t.” She sighed. “It’s a long story. I’m sorry. He’s still yours when he’s here. You know, for any lap dances or . . . whatever. I wouldn’t steal your customer.”

Isabel swallowed hard as it hit her. Her knight in shining armor might have saved her, but he also knew Jasmine, possibly intimately.

She liked Rocky. A lot. Liked him as much as she hated the image of him being with Jasmine and probably the other girls too.

Various scenarios involving Rocky and her fellow dancers ran in her head. It was enough to have her stomach churning.

Jasmine snorted out a laugh. “It’s okay. He’s not mine. I don’t know what you did, but he’s clearly yours now. It’s pretty obvious he’s only got eyes for you.”

Isabel shook her head. “I didn’t do—”

Jasmine held up one hand and interrupted Isabel’s defense of herself. “This happens all the time. I can dance a hundred times for a guy in the back room, but inevitably he’ll meet a girl who he’s interested in for more than just dances.”

“He’s just helping me because of Tito.”

It wasn’t because he only had eyes for her, as Jasmine had said. That was crazy. Ridiculous.

Even with as nice as the idea would be that a man like Rocky would be interested in her in spite of the mess she’d made of her life, it would never happen.

 
“Sweetie, I know men. It’s more than just helping you he’s after.”

Again, Isabel shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Her friend Jasmine said she knew men, but she was wrong about Rocky, even if she did know him well. Isabel swallowed the bitter taste in her throat at that thought. “Jas. Did you and Rocky . . . Um, have you and he—”

“Have I done the deed with your man? No, sweetie. Never.”

The question that had been poking at her had come out before Isabel could stop it, but now that she had asked it, she wasn’t sure she believed the answer.

“But you know he has a tattoo . . . down there.”

Jasmine smiled. “One of the girls who used to work here part time also worked at the tattoo studio. She did his tattoo.”

“Oh.” The relief flooded her.

“Now that that’s settled, you might want to get moving. Your man is waiting outside for you to finish up in here. I saw him hanging around eyeballing the hallway when I came back.”