Page 14 of Arm Candy Warrior

Within five minutes, the sleek, black car comes to a halt. Johnny throws the door open and steps out. I slide along the leather seats, keeping my knees tucked together because in this dress, I could literally show everyone everything I have with very little effort. When I get to the end of the seat, I swing my legs out and Johnny reaches his hand back in. He pulls me up and into his hard chest. His eyes are such a contrast to the night, and in no time at all, I get lost in them. “Don’t worry so much, Kyla. You won’t have to run interference all night. We’ll see if your reputation has gotten around.” He gives me a quick wink. Despite how sexy I find that wink, his words clash inside me. I don’t want it to be me that keeps the skanks at bay. I want it to be him. I’ve never considered myself a jealous person, but when he fucked Lynette’s worker in one of the dressing rooms, he fucked with my head, too. He feels badly about it. Now. Not then. Then, he thought I was a Kardashian. Now, he knows better.

He turns, threading my arm through his. Magnum and our other guard flank us while Johnny tells me they started the strip club business venture last year. It’s brought in really good money since its inception, and since it’s been doing so good, they’re keeping a keen eye on it to see if it’s something they can replicate in another town.

Judging by how Big Daddy K and Johnny are taken care of, I imagine their business pursuits bring in quite a lot of money. The only thing they don’t have at their disposal, that I would seriously think of getting, is a cook. Who knows, they may have already thought of that but determined it was too risky. Guys like them have to watch their backs all the time. Nothing made that clearer than Glo shoving a gun in my face.

We enter through a back door and are immediately greeted by Wild Thing being pumped through the speakers. Lasers flash in the main room, lighting up the back hallway with a sharp glow. Our security detail nods at their security detail, and we’re let through without pause.

A tall, thin man in a well-appointed suit walks down the hallway toward us. He and Johnny shake hands, and then Johnny motions toward me at the same time he squeezes my arm closer to him. “This is Kyla Samson.”

“Kyla,” the man says, deliberately keeping his stare on my face. “Joe Dunnegan. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” I tell him. This place makes me uneasy. No offense, but I don’t really want to sit around watching a bunch of women take their clothes off. Now, if we were in a male strip club, I’d be all about it. Especially if the theme of the night was badass fighters. Hell fucking yes. Strip it down bare.

“We’ll take one of your private tables,” Johnny says.

“Business or pleasure?”

“Business,” Johnny says, allaying some of my concerns.

Joe turns to lead us out of the hallway. “I sent last quarter’s profit-and-loss statement in earlier.”

He doesn’t look like a guy who would own a strip club. Then again, I don’t know much about them. My knowledge comes from how they’re portrayed in movies. If I met Joe on the street, I’d peg him as an investment banker. Or maybe someone who owns a sports team. He’s a mid-thirties businessman who’s impeccably dressed with several rings adorning his fingers. In fact, he reminds me a hell of a lot of Big Daddy K.

Instead of calling a server over, Dunnegan takes Johnny and I to a booth in the back corner. It’s secluded. From here, we can see everything, but the lights aren’t shining on us. When Dunnegan steps away, I ask, “So, where’s this Dunnegan in the hierarchy of things?”

“My level,” Johnny says. “He runs this business for my dad. He gets paid a wage, but everything funnels through to the business accounts. He’s been with Dad for a long time.”

“So, you trust him?” I ask.

“About as much as we can trust anybody in this business,” he says, squeezing my thigh.

Now that we’re seated, it’s impossible to block out everything happening around us. The women delivering drinks are scantily clad. On stage, is the only place they strip as far as I can see from where we are. After watching one full routine, I have to give these ladies props. The dancing was insane. And sexy as hell. I can see why this place is packed tonight.

It might just be my limited experience with these places, but it looks as if Candy’s is on the higher end of strip clubs. The girls aren’t sloppy. They’re skilled. They may be taking their clothes off for money, but there’s a certain type of dignity to what I see them doing. Almost like an art.

A rowdy group—what looks to be a bachelor party—in the front catcalls the girl using a Victorian sofa in her dance, and a security guard promptly goes over to them to issue a warning.

Frankly, I’m impressed. I thought I was going to hate every single second of this.

A woman with a uniform that covers very little of her chest and dips low into a booty short comes over to our table to take our drink orders. She flirts with Johnny, but how could you not? He’s gorgeous. Plus, what is she supposed to do? It’s her job.

“What do you think?” Johnny asks when she walks away.

“It’s…cleaner than I thought,” I offer.

He laughs, and an alarming pair of dimples show up.

My lips part, and he immediately stops. “What?”

“You have dimples,” I say. “I’ve never noticed them before.”

“That’s because you’re too busy staring at my naked chest.”

My mouth drops further. I can’t even argue with him about that. My cheeks turn fifty shades of red. He leans forward, lips brushing my ear so he can be heard over the music. “You know what that face reminds me of? When you came with my thumb on your clit.”

His fingers dig into my thigh, and my breath hitches. Did he really think it was a good idea to bring me here? “As long as my clit is the one you’re thinking about,” I say, pushing the boundaries far too much. “I’ll blush like this for you all night long.”

He nips at my ear, and I jerk away to tease him. Is it wrong that I like how sexual he is? I just want him to be sexual with only me though. I think. I mean, that’s where I’m going with this right? It might seem wrong considering I’d gladly hop into three guys’ beds at this point, but that’s just where I stand on the subject. I’m not making a fucking apology for it.

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