Page 48 of Rise of the King (Checkmate 5)

She’s beautiful. She’s like an enchantress who drags the attention of every patron away from the front doors.

But not me.

Turning my eyes only, I watch an entourage of men enter. They wear expensive suits, shined shoes, and heavy guns beneath their coats. Most people wouldn’t notice the guns, but I’m not most people, and I notice everything.

Dropping my head a little lower, I stay hidden and watch the men make their way toward the dancer and take seats among the commoners. She’s like a snake charmer. She draws them in, seduces them, and makes it so the guys who should be heading upstairs now sit among the clubgoers.

They’re a party of five. One just like Abel and Pete, and four soldiers who watch his six and try hard to ignore the seductive dancer. Their job is to take care of the guy they call boss and to make sure no one sits across the club with a Coke in his hand and a promise to take him out.

They don’t see me here, and thus, they’ve already failed.

My gun sits against my back, the cold steel a stark reminder of why I’m here. Kane’s knife presses against my hip. And the memory of Sophia’s enraged eyes sits on my chest.

I can’t choose her over this. I can’t choose a girl over my brother. I have a mission to speak to the man I believe to be Trenton Neal, to take what information he has to give, and to take him out for his part in the trafficking of women, guns, and drugs. Removing him removes one more layer of protection from the guy who holds the gun against Kane’s head.

Until I find that man, Sophiacan’tcome first. It’s just the way it has to be.

My jobshouldbe to detain, hand these men over to the authorities, and to let the courts deal with it. But I don’t. I’m taking it upon myself to judge and execute in one fell swoop. It’s a powerful position to be in—and one I don’t intend to give up.

Jay Bishop is dead, and as his ghost, I can do whatever the fuck I want.

The dancers who were here minutes ago are forgotten as the new one seduces every man and woman in the club. She moves her trim hips, slides her hands over her bejeweled chest, and bites a thick bottom lip.

She wears nothing more than a thong bikini and feathers. Long blonde hair hangs to the middle of her back, and high heels give her no trouble at all as she moves. It’s obvious she’stryingto be sexy; she’s trying to charm her audience, but every now and then, her sexiness makes way for something else. Something classier. Her sex-hips turn to something a little more fluid, and her long legs become longer as she stretches up and turns.

The man I believe to be Trenton doesn’t need to say anything. He just gives a flick of his wrist to summon the woman, and when she’s helped from the stage and set on her feet, she doesn’t stop dancing as she moves forward and slides her body over his. From sex, to class, back to sex, she moves around him and separates his faction of soldiers. She slides her fingertips over the back of his neck, over a square-cut jaw, then slides her ass into his lap and smiles when his large hands grab on.

My Coke tastes bland now.

The gun on my back goes forgotten when she stands from his lap and takes his hand.

Adrenaline pumps through my blood when Trenton stands, gives the signal to his men to back the fuck up, and follows her through the crowd. He palms her tits, nibbles on her neck, and laughs when she leads him through a doorway and out of sight.

Like the spell she cast is broken, the crowd shakes their heads, drops back to Earth, and goes back to talking amongst themselves.

She’s magical. She controls a whole room and separates a man from his soldiers when he knows it’s dangerous to do so.

Suits me.

Setting my glass aside and standing, I fix my beanie, pat my coat down, and move toward the doorway Trenton passed through. I have no blueprints for this club like I usually do. Ace tends to give me maps and blueprints of every club we’re moving through, but he doesn’t know I’m here.

He told me to find ML; I believe I found it.

Murphy’s Law, the club where you swear nothing could possibly go wrong, only to be proved wrong at the worst possible moment.

Trenton’s soldiers remain in the chairs in front of the stage. The women from before have returned and work hard to take control of the room even half as well as the seductress before them. They come down from the stage one by one and slide into laps, but I see none of them as I move into the dark hall and catch a glimpse of the dancer’s feathers moving into a private room just seconds before the door closes.

I should back up and tell Ace where I am. I can ask for intel and find this club’s weak spots. I should let Trenton enjoy his dancer, for she’ll be the last he ever gets. Ishouldgo home, slide into bed with Sophia, and wait for Ace’s instructions now that we know two of the three mysteries: ML is a club, and Trenton Neal is right here.

There are a lot ofshouldsat play tonight, but I do none of them. Instead, with a last glance along the hall to make sure none of Trenton’s men have followed me, I slide my miniature tools into the lock of the door the dancer escaped behind and feel it snick open. The music is loud, so I don’t hear the lock, but thankfully, that means Trenton won’t hear it either.

One last glance along the hall, I pull my gun from the back of my jeans, then push through the door to find the dancer in his lap and his pants down around his ankles.

I’m struck frozen for a moment as she gives him a lap dance like none other. Her long arms slide through the air, almost like she’s plucking grapes from a vine, and her toes point, the way I’ve become accustomed to seeing in Soph’s apartment this week.

My heart bounces in my chest, does somersaults that hurt my diaphragm and push the oxygen from my injured lungs. The dancer twirls without noticing me. Trenton doesn’t notice me because his face is in her cleavage and his hands clutch at the globes of her ass so hard I’m sure they bruise. One tiny little thong and a bunch of feathers are the only things that separate Trenton and his dancing girl while he brings a hand between them to work on pulling her panties down, and my head swims with uncertainties.

Have I lost it?

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