Page 3 of Cold Foot Revenge
He’d been in strip clubs before back when he was in his twenties, and this one was a higher end one, but they all kind of felt the same—dark.
Two of the ladies dancing on poles on the foremost stages wore silver thongs that hugged their curves. They worked thesky-high clear heels, and both of their faces were covered mostly by animal masks. One had a bejeweled Toucan mask on with a plume of feathers arching over her head. The other wore a raven mask, covered in black feathers.
His attention landed on the third dancer and held though. She was different. She was lean, and short, even in her black heels. She wore black cut-off booty shorts with rips up her ass cheeks that exposed her skin. She had on fishnet stockings that only went up to the middle of her thighs, and she wore a top. Kind of. It was silver jeweled triangle top that left little to nothing to the imagination. She had red hair, but in the front, her long bangs were platinum blond. The mask she wore was a crystal embellished wolf mask. He could only see her eyes and the bottom half of her face.
It was her eyes that held him.
They were an unnatural blue that glowed from within, and when they landed on him, the dancer halted, like she’d been startled. She stood there, staring at him, completely frozen.
It was just a couple of loaded seconds, and then she cast a quick glance over at the bar and lowered her eyes and began to dance again.
She looked distracted and missed the beat of the heavy hitting song a couple of times as he made his way to the bar to get a drink.
The bartender was busy with a few guys at the end of the bar top, so he took a seat at the other end and twisted to look at the dancer again. Guys were gathered around the curvy ones, but only one guy was in front of her. He tossed a couple of one-dollar bills onto the stage and took his drink and made his way toward a set of casino machines on the wall.
The pit of his stomach dropped out as Dylan watched the woman lower herself to pick up those two dollars. Her bright blue eyes ghosted up to him and back down.
He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like her being here. There was something about her that grated at some instinct inside of him that he didn’t understand.
He ripped his attention away from her and ordered a beer. He wasn’t here to stare at dancers. He was here to find answers.
There was a room behind the bar, and he checked the door. It was an office, and because the door was open a few inches, he could see someone moving in there. Dylan took a drink and scanned the main room, paying more attention now. There were a few men sitting at a table on the other side of the room. One of them was staring at him. He nodded a can-I-help-you-motherfucker twitch of his head.
The guy cocked his head, like he had a problem, but Dylan didn’t recognize him.
“Hey,” he asked the bartender, who had stopped just on the other side of the bar top to wash a glass. “Did you work here a few years ago?”
The guy’s eyes darted to him, and they were too bright too. This place was crawling with shifters. The hair stood up on his neck as the bartender glanced over at the table of men behind him, and then back to the glass. “Why do you want to know?”
“I just have some questions about something that happened here back then. I can make it fast.”
“Are you the one who asked for the lap dance?” a feminine voice said from behind him.
When he turned around, Wolf Mask was standing there with a flirty smile.
Working him, huh?
He shook his head and parted his lips to tell her he wasn’t here for that, but a warning flashed in her eyes. “I’m sure you said you wanted a lap dance. It’s two hundred dollars for a private one,” she told him, “but you’re cute. I’ll charge half, just this one time.”
Dylan narrowed his eyes at the second warning that flashed in her eyes. Did he know her?
“Uuuh,” he looked to the bartender, and back at her. “Do you want a drink first?”
Her smile looked relieved. “Absolutely. I only shoot tequila with clients though. Tequila loosens me up for you but doesn’t let me get sloppy. You don’t deserve sloppy. You deserve something special tonight.”
This was fuckin’ weird. She was trying to tell him something with her eyes and twitched her head toward the hallway.
He ordered a pair of shots, one top shelf tequila for her, and one top shelf whiskey for him.
She blurred closer, so fast she startled Dylan, and grabbed the shots, and handed him the whiskey. Her eyes darted to the bartender, and then to Dylan. Her smile trembled.
“Are you okay?” he murmured low. The music was deafening in here, but she was a shifter. She would hear him just fine.
“Drink up.”Fast, she mouthed.
He didn’t like being told what to do in general, but this woman was acting so strangely. Maybe she was in trouble or something.
He tossed his shot back and pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet, paid the bartender, and stood.
