Page 101 of Russian Roulette
The tables closest to the stage are VIP seats reserved for the larger parties. The ladies seated there are receiving more personal service and frequent checks from the waiters carrying trays of champagne.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a tall woman with long blonde hair moving between the VIP tables. She’s wearing a tight black dress and is taking the time to stop at each table to chat with the guests. She must be a hostess or the person in charge of the special parties.
The pretty woman fits the vague description of Natasha, but I’m too far away to see her clearly. Even with eyeglasses, my vision isn’t great at far distances or even across a big room. I’m still pissed at the guys for taking my glasses away from me and accusing me of faking poor eyesight. It’s a wonder they didn’t break my only pair. I can’t even drive without them.
I need to move closer and try to hear her voice. If she has an accent, that would be another clue.
Waving at the bartender, I point to the money I’ve placed under my coaster, then pick up my drink. I’m holding a few dollar bills in my other hand to blend in with the women in the room. If I make it close to the stage, I might even get up enough courage to stuff them into a lucky man’s g-string. Staying in character is the best way to keep from drawing suspicion.
I sway to the music, appearing to be slightly tipsy, which isn’t hard, considering I’m still limping on my aching leg. When the practically naked policemen finally run off the stage to be replaced by firefighters, I pretend to be having a blast. “Yeah baby, take it off!” I yell right along with everyone else.
I can’t help wondering how it would feel to be in one of these groups of women and genuinely be having a good time. It all seems foreign to me. Maybe I’m from a different world. I’m not comfortable here.
The blonde woman is two tables away from me now. She steps away from one group and heads toward another. I move quickly to intercept her.
“Excuse me,” I say, touching her arm. I stagger slightly as if I’ve had one too many drinks. “Can you tell me the way to the restroom?”
“Of course,” she says, in a clear Eastern European accent. She points to a doorway on the far wall. “It’s right over there.”
I stare into her deep blue eyes. “Are you Natasha?” I blurt out. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”
A curtain drops down over her blue eyes, but not before I notice the flash of fear. “No, you’re mistaken,” she snaps back. “Excuse me.” She turns quickly and moves away from me. I move to go after her when my upper arm is grabbed.
“Jade! What the hell are you doing here?”
Strong arms whirl me around and I stare straight up into Kit’s furious face.Dammit!Talk about bad timing. Why did he have to show up now?
“I’m enjoying the strip show,” I reply while trying to pry his hands off me. “What does it look like I’m doing? Turn loose of me. I’m busy.”
“No, you’re coming with me,” he says, his hand tightening on my upper arm. “We’re leaving right now.”
“Stop manhandling me! Turn me loose. The show is just getting started.” I don’t dare tell him I’ve found Natasha. Not until I’ve spoken with her myself. I hold up my fistful of dollar bills. “I haven’t had a chance to give this money to anyone yet.”
“You’re trying my patience,” he says, his icy eyes turning steely. “I’m not asking you to come with me. I’m telling you. Now let’s go.”
I’m finding this dominant side of Kit to be quite sexy. Maybe I should’ve tested him before now if this is what it takes to turn him into a beast.
“No,” I say, defying him. “I’m here to have fun, and that’s what I’m going to do. You’re welcome to stay if you enjoy watching male strippers.” I point to the closest fireman who has stripped off his pants. “Come to Mama, baby!” I yell to him and wave my bills in the air. “You can put out my fire anytime!”
I catch a glimpse of Kit’s face. He’s close to blowing a fuse and for the first time tonight, I’m truly having fun.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he spits out before grabbing me up roughly. Instead of gently picking me up like he usually does, he throws me over his shoulder with my ass sticking up in the air. He must really be mad because he’s not even being careful with my hurt leg.
“Kit! What the hell are you doing?” I futilely slap his back with both hands. “Put me down!”
Our scene is causing a commotion. I’m only now realizing how it must appear for a man as huge and hunky as Kit to swoop into the club and steal away a customer.
“That’s the way! You go, girl!” A young woman wearing a bride’s maid sash at the next table yells at me. “You let that man take you home and do the dirty!” The other ladies turn around to watch and start cheering too. “Take me too, Viking man! I’ll go! Take me!”
Oh my God! They think he’s part of the show! And why wouldn’t they? He’s the most gorgeous man in the room, and the largest. Being kidnapped and ravished by a modern-day Viking would be every woman’s dream, including mine.
A crowd gathers tighter around us. Any moment now, the women clutching money will begin cramming bills under his belt.
“Excuse me, sir?” I hear a man’s voice trying to stop us, though I can’t see him because my head is hanging upside down. My long hair is almost touching the floor. “Do you know this young lady?” he asks.
“No, he doesn’t!” I yell out.
“Yes, she’s my fiancée,” Kit says, not missing a beat. “And I’m taking her home where she belongs. She’s been a very bad girl and needs to be punished.” He spanks my ass again like it’s part of an act.
