Page 9 of Casey's Hero
“Come on.” The cop gripped her arm and guided her toward the exit.
No sooner had she left through the front entrance than the rear gate burst open. A huge fake wedding cake rolled onto the patio to the lyrics ofPour Some Sugar on Me.
A roar of approval came from the guys, and they clapped in time to the music.
“All right,” Teller yelled. “Bring on the stripper!”
“Yeah, baby,” Reid shouted. “About time we got some action.”
“I call dibs on the first lap dance,” Logan sang out.
With Camila out of their hair, Jacob focused his attention on the entertainment, wary but ready to relax a little. He waited for the woman to pop out of the cake.
And waited…
Two minutes into the song, the stripper still hadn’t come through.
The men chanted, “Come out! Come out!”
Jacob frowned. When the stripper still hadn’t made it out, he started toward the cake, concerned that she had suffered a fall, suffocated or injured herself and bled out. About the time he reached the cake, the stripper punched a hole in the top with a tight fist and widened the hole before she stood, wearing a white hat similar to the one Navy SEALs wore when they were in their full dress whites. She had long blond hair, and her face was covered in a thick layer of makeup, her eyes surrounded by blue and pink eyeshadow and thick, fake lashes. Her lips were a bright red. Some of the lipstick had smeared on her rise through the top of the cake, and her blond hair was slightly cockeyed.
She pulled the hair back in place and smiled. “Hey, boys! I’m Candy.” Then she reached back inside the cake with one hand and fumbled with something. The other hand followed while the music blared on. Her smile morphed into a concentrated scowl as she worked on whatever was inside the cake that wasn’t working according to plan.
Finally, she looked up, caught his glance and gave him a crooked grin. Something about her face was familiar, even with all the makeup covering her cheeks and eyelids. “I can’t get out,” she said quietly, where only he could hear. “The door is jammed.”
“Can you get up to the top of the cake?” Jacob asked.
She frowned and braced her hands on the rim of the top layer. “I think so.” Pulling herself up, she sat her bottom on the edge. “Now, what?”
Jacob studied the contraption. “Climb down the layers like a staircase.”
“I don’t think that’s possible. It’s a wire frame covered in papier-mâché.”
“Can you reach my shoulders?” Jacob asked.
Candy bit her bottom lip, smearing red lipstick across her teeth. “Maybe.”
Jacob leaned as close to the cake as he could.
The stripper laid her hands on his shoulder. “I’m losing balance,” she said, her body tipping toward him.
As she fell toward him, he caught her around her waist and swung her out of the cake. Her momentum sent him stumbling backward. Jacob struggled to keep his feet under him but couldn’t. Falling backward, he let go of her waist, but not in time to brace for impact. He crashed to the floor, landing flat on his back. If the impact with the floor hadn’t knocked the air from his lungs, the stripper landing on top of him finished the job.
He lay still for a moment, unable to draw in a breath.
The guys roared with laughter, not realizing he couldn’t breathe, and were absolutely no help. Their attention was riveted to the woman splayed across his body, pushing to a sitting position, straddling his waist, her bottom connecting with his groin.
The song ended, and the next one that played wasSave a Horse Ride a Cowboy.
“Ride him, baby,” Teller called out.
“That’s right. Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” Reid said.
Levi Evans frowned. “Lucky bastard.”
“That should be me,” Logan said. “Move over, Rooster.”
The woman on top of Jacob struggled to keep upright. When she saw that the men were watching, she looked around, her eyes wide. A moment later, she rocked her hips and raised her hand like a bronc rider.
