Page 27 of Rebels & Rejects
I wonder if he recognized me.God, I hope not.I bury my face in my palms and let out a long, weary groan. That’s the last thing I need. As if it’s not bad enough that Cain’s got a stick up his ass when it comes to me.Ha, fuck.Even the thought of having not one buttwogang members looking for me makes my palms sweat, and I quickly try to drown out the anxious feeling by taking another swig of whiskey.
The bottle is empty, and I’m just this side of tipsy by the time I stagger into the night and make my way home.
***
I’m working the late shift at the club the rest of the week, which would be fine... if some overbearing, tatted-up asshole didn’t keep stopping by whenever I’m working to sit silently in the corner and follow my every move. It’s driving me fucking insane. What the hell is he even doing? Trying to intimidate me? Ha, there’s no chance of that.
I can feel his eyes tracking my movements every night, feel them burning into me when I’m on stage, delivering drinks, giving lap dances. Hell, I even feel the lingering tingle of his gaze along my skin when I take my break.
After three nights of this nonsense, I’m like a raging bull when I step into Strip Tease on Friday and find him already sitting at his usual table. Despite knowing I need to be careful, I throw him a hateful glare, which he returns with a knowing smirk before I stomp over to the bar.
“What’s up your ass tonight?” Mike asks when he sees me.
“He’s here every night,” I grumble, not having to explain any further whoheis. “Doesn’t he have better things to do?”
Mike just shrugs as he dries a tumbler before storing it away under the counter. “No idea. None of them seem too bad, though—the Rejects.”
Of course, he thinks that. When they come in, many of them spend time at the bar talking to him. I’ve seen the way he interacts with them, laughing and chatting. He already acts as though they’re all buddies.
I snatch up a tray of drinks and move to distribute them to waiting customers around the room, as usual ignoring the searing heat of my skin as Cain trails me with his eyes.
The night goes on like that—me ignoring him, him watching—until the last customer leaves, and Drew locks the front door while the rest of us wipe down the tables and straighten everything up for tomorrow.
Once I’ve wiped the last table clean, I head toward the dressing room to change and gather my belongings, which is, of course, when Cain decides to finally make his move—just when I was starting to think I was done with him for the night. He calls out, “Drew, give Red the keys. She and I have a few things to discuss before she leaves. She can lock up when we’re done.”
Gritting my teeth, I turn to glare at the insufferable asshole.
“Oh, uhh, sure,” Drew agrees hesitantly. He’s not about to argue with a Reject, though. Not that I would expect him to. He gives me a long look as he hands the keys over, silently asking if I’m okay—he’s a good person like that—and I give a nod and small lift of my lips to let him know I’m fine. I can handle myself against this asshole. While I prefer to lure my men with false pretenses, I have just enough self-defense skills to get me out of a tight corner. Although I have to admit, I’ve never had to fight off someone like Cain, who’s all bulging muscle, and toned features. He’s built more like a Viking warrior than a Black Creek thug, so I don’t for one second think I could win against someone like him. But I could hopefully catch him by surprise. Not that I think he’s asking me to stay so he can try to attack me. Nope, if I’ve learned anything from his incessant stalking the last few nights, it’s that this asshole prefers to use silent intimidation to try and break me.
Neither of us moves or says anything until the last of the staff leave, most of them giving me curious or questioning looks as they pass by. When we’re finally alone, I quirk a brow at him. “What is this about?”
“Dance for me.” It’s an order, given to me by the current overlord of our little part of town, and more importantly, a decider of fates for the people who work at Strip Tease.
It only makes rage simmer within me, though, and no doubt he can see the pits of anger burning in my eyes as he smirks at me. Pursing my lips, I have to swallow down my snort of refusal. I can’t afford to piss him off and cause problems for Drew or anyone else who works here. The Rejects may seem like decent guys, but as I said, I don’t trust them, and I definitely don’t trust their leader. It wouldn’t be fair to Drew or the others if I caused problems for them just because I’ve gotten myself into a tight spot with Cain. Besides, it’s only one measly dance... how bad can it be?
I hesitate for another second, calculating my options, but ultimately, I’m just delaying the inevitable. Iknowwhat I need to do; what Ihaveto do. There’s no other choice—not if I don’t want to end up fired or get my colleagues in trouble.
Biting my tongue, I make the only move I can—I head toward the stage.
“Ah-ah.”
I freeze, gritting my teeth.Fuck.It takes me a second to compose myself before I look over my shoulder at him. He’s leaning back in his seat with his legs spread wide, the intent clear to read in his cocky expression.
“Here.” He points to the spot between his thighs.Fucking asshole. He knows I can’t refuse; knows I won’t risk the other’s livelihoods.
Fuck.I seriously don’t want to get that close to him. If the feel of his eyes on me is enough to scorch my skin, then being within touching distance of him is going to send me up in flames.
I glare daggers at him, making it clear how much I want to tear out his trachea and jam it up his ass as I spin on my heels and stride toward him, planting myself between his spread thighs. I ignore the way my muscles tense, and the fine hairs on my arms stand on end as if his close proximity has sent a bolt of static electricity through my system. It doesn’t help that, while he’s fully dressed, I’m wearing nothing more than a thong and a scrap of fabric claiming to be a bra. Even though he’s barely paid any attention to my body, I feel the need to put more layers between us. Not because of him, but because of me. I can’t trust the way his presence affects me; how it makes my heart race. My heated skin begs for his touch, and while I’m reluctant to get any closer to him, my body is practically singing for joy at our closeness.
He raises his eyebrows in an expectant look when I make no effort to move. There’s no music, and honestly, this is awkward as fuck. Huffing out a breath, I start to sway my hips, shifting my weight from one leg to another as I fixate on a point on the wall just to the right of his head. One dance. Three minutes. That’s all, and then I’m getting the fuck out of here.
I slowly countdown the seconds in my head—the only way for me to time myself, and it provides a sufficient distraction from the gorgeous asshole watching me intently and, more importantly, the disturbing response my body has to his nearness. I lose myself in the movement of my body, in the heat of his gaze, in the passing seconds as I tick them off one by one until he breaks the trance I was in.
“I know you’re lying.”
It’s a statement. One delivered with absolute confidence.
“Is that so?” I challenge, finally allowing myself to meet his gaze. His bright green eyes bore into me, stalling the breath in my lungs.
