Page 50 of Born into Blood

“I don’t know how you manage to make being bossy so incredibly sexy, but you do.”

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m just getting started.” I keep my hand on the nape of her neck and look back at Lou’s. “Until I say otherwise, you won’t say a word in there. You will not leave my side, not for anything, no matter what, and if things turn to shit, you will stand behind me. If things really turn to shit, you will run.” I look back at her, making sure she understands what I’m saying. “Promise me, kisa. Promise me, or we don’t go in.”

“You were right about there being more bossiness headed my way.”

I smile down at her and give a soft laugh, because she has no idea how overbearing I’m going to be when it comes to her safety. I smile even bigger when I think about the bodyguard I’m already planning on assigning to watch over her.

“Promise me, kisa.”

“I promise.”

Satisfied, I take her hand in mine. “What’s your mom’s name?”

“Chloe Daniels.”

“Okay, baby, remember what I said.”

She nods up at me right before I lead her inside the dingy bar. The inside is exactly what I’m expecting based on the outside. No surprises at Lou’s. What you see is most definitely what you get. The lighting is low, the floors sticky with a substance that I hope will forever remain a mystery to me, and despite the fact that it’s only lunchtime, there’s already a few loyal customers sucking back beers while watching the lackluster dance that some poor woman is stuck performing. Her tits are bare, her thong stuffed with only a few sad dollars, and the expression on her face makes it clear she’d rather be anywhere than right here.

That makes two of us, lady.

Lara stiffens at my side, and I let go of her hand so I can wrap my arm around her shoulders instead, pulling her against me while I lean down to kiss her head.

“Let’s make this quick, sweet girl,” I whisper over the rhythmic beat of the music. “This place is really fucking depressing, and I hate having you here.”

“Agreed,” she whispers back.

I lead Lara to the bar where the bartender is waiting. He’s older, probably late fifties, and time has not been kind to him. A substantial gut hangs over his jeans, and he’s giving the stripper a run for her money as far as breast size goes. He’s also been watching us ever since we walked in, and as we step closer, his eyes run over me, spending a few extra seconds on my neck tattoos, and when I rest my hand on the bar, I make sure he can see the Grim Reaper on my arm. He doesn’t say anything, but I see the quick flash of fear. This is our territory, and he may not know my name, but he knows who I am.

“Is Lou around?” I ask. “We need to talk to him.”

The bartender runs a hand through his greasy hair while keeping the other one resting on the bar so I can tell he’s not reaching for a weapon. He’s also careful to not look at Lara. He’s not a stupid man, which saves me a lot of trouble.

“He’s in his office,” the man says, nodding his head to the dark hallway that’s to the left of the stage. “You can’t miss it. It’s the only other door past the bathrooms.”

I keep eye contact for a few seconds, debating whether or not to call Val or Max, but the man quickly dips his head, and it’s obvious he’s not looking to start anything. Keeping my arm around Lara, I lead her past the stage where the woman is grinding against the pole to the sound of country music and half-hearted catcalls.

“God, I hope my mom didn’t work here,” Lara mutters once we hit the hallway and the music drops a few decibels.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I stop, turning her around in the small space and lifting her face to mine. “Are you sure you want to know the truth?” I brush back a strand of her hair. “It might not be anything good,” I warn her. “It might be better if you didn’t know.”

She stubbornly shakes her head just like I knew she would. “No, I want to know. Anything is better than not knowing.”

I want to disagree with her, to tell her there are a lot of things worse than not knowing, but I can tell by the look in her eyes that there’s no deterring her. She wants the truth, and she’s going to get it. My job is to make sure she’s safe while she does it.

“Okay, let’s go meet Lou.”

She smiles up at me and leans into my touch when I cup her cheek. Before she turns towards the office door, she kisses my palm, and if she keeps it up she’s going to defy all logic and make me hard in this shithole of a place. Thankfully, she starts walking, pulling me along behind her, because the last thing I want is to meet Lou while straining against my jeans. Being the owner of a strip club means he’s probably seen more guys walking around with hard-ons than I want to think about, but I consider everything Lara and I share to be private, even the effect she has on my body, and that means I won’t be sharing it with anyone else, not now, not ever.

I give the flimsy door a sharp knock when we’re before it, not because I’m trying to be polite, but because I don’t want to walk in on him doing something that I’ll be forced to look at. I have a feeling meeting Lou is going to be bad enough, but meeting Lou while he’s getting a blowjob from some down-on-her-luck stripper would be a thousand times worse.

“What do ya want?”

The angry voice that invades the hall manages to be both raspy and phlegmy, a skill only a longtime smoker can achieve. When I open the door and the overpowering stench of stale cigarette smoke wafts over us, I know I must be right.

Lou sits behind a small desk in a room that’s barely big enough to fit it. He’s older than his bartender and the exact opposite as far as build goes. Lou is scrawny, but it’s the kind of thin that’s wiry and usually has a surprising amount of strength behind it. Aside from being too thin, he’s also ugly in a way that’s almost offensive—eyes too small and too close together, a weak chin that just disappears into his neck, and acne scars that have not faded over time. I’m beginning to understand why Lou opened up this place. He’s the kind of man who has to pay women to be around him.

“Who the fuck are you?” His dark eyes run from me to Lara, and he lingers on her long enough to piss me off. “You want a job, honey?”

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