Page 87 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
The dancers are still struggling against the zip ties, grumbling. “We did nothing wrong!” one shouts.
“Yeah, we’re innocent!” another adds.
“Shut up,” I snap at them, and they actually go quiet. My head is spinning. This is my event, my paid entertainers. And my Alphas just arrested them in front of fifty drunk women who think it’s performance art.
“This will ruin everything,” I say, starting to pace because I need to move or I’ll scream. “Why does this crazy stuff keep happening to me?”
“We can’t release them,” Chris mentions gently, and his moss-green eyes are sympathetic. “You know that, gorgeous.They’re wanted criminals. We have a legal obligation to bring them in.”
“Yeah, how do I keep hiring wanted men?” I throw my hands up. “What are the actual odds? This is just my spectacular luck.”
The dancers are struggling. “Please,” one of them whines. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
“Do I need to gag you?” Kane grunts. “Because I will.”
They shut up.
I’m staring at my three Alphas now, really studying them in their tactical gear. Black cargo pants, fitted black shirts that showcase every muscle, boots, utility belts. They’re huge, intimidating, exactly what you’d picture dangerous bounty hunters to look like.
The crowd went absolutely wild when they appeared onstage. And an insane idea forms in my head.
“Maybe you guys can take their spots,” I say.
Silence.
Then all three start laughing like I’ve told the funniest joke they’ve ever heard.
“I’m serious!” I move closer, craning my neck to meet their eyes. “You take my entertainment, you need to step in and replace it. That’s only fair.”
“Oh, we only strip for you,” Noel says, but he’s grinning.
“Look, I know this is insane.” I’m pleading now, and I don’t care. “But I’m completely stuck here. I need your help. My reputation is on the line, as is my business—everything I’m trying to build with this event-planning career. So if I don’t deliver entertainment, my client will be furious, word will spread, and I’ll be done before I even start.”
Chris studies me for a long moment. Then he sighs. “Okay, it’s doable. I’ll take these assholes to lockup and process them. You two take one for the team, just like I did with Santa.” He’s pointing at Noel and Kane.
“What? No!” Kane’s eyes enlarge, something close to panic flashing across his face. “Absolutely not. No way.”
“Hell no,” Noel adds, shaking his head. “I’m not a stripper, Chris. I hunt criminals, not dance for drunk women.”
“Come on,” Chris says, already hauling one of the dancers toward the exit. “For Hannah. She needs this.”
“I don’t dance,” Kane protests. “I can’t dance. I’ll look like an idiot up there.”
“You won’t,” I promise. “You just have to move to the music. Be sexy. The women will eat it up.”
“Be sexy,” Kane repeats flatly. “That’s your professional advice?”
“Yes,” I say firmly.
Noel and Kane are looking at each other, having some kind of silent conversation.
“You’d be helping her out,” Chris says slowly.
“We’d be making fools of ourselves,” Kane counters.
“She needs us,” Noel adds, surprising me with his changing tune.
“She’s asking us to strip,” Kane states.
