Fierce Dancer (Sierra Pride Book 5) Read Online Free Page B

another.
    That night, he’d learned what it meant to not get to say goodbye.
    Back in his truck, Quentin dialed Hera’s number. She deserved an answer, and Quentin couldn’t put it off anymore.
    “I found your friend the other night,” Quentin said. “Has she called you yet?”
    “No,” Hera said, her voice puzzled and sad. “Was she doing okay?”
    Better than okay, he thought. “She’s fine.”
    “Well, good. Thanks for finding her. You’re sure you gave her my new number?”
    His voice got soft. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
    “Oh. Well, never mind, then. I guess…I don’t know what to do now. If she doesn’t want to be in contact, I guess that’s her prerogative.”
    Quentin winced. He, too, knew what it was like to be shunned by Emma. It fucking hurt.
    After a moment, another voice said, “Blake here.”
    “Hey Blake.”
    “Hey. So, Hera’s upset. It’s killing me to see her sad about anything. Do you think you could maybe talk to Emma one more time?”
    These Fourniers did not realize what they were asking of him. “Sure,” he said. “No problem.”
    Fuck, he’d said it again. No problem .
    *
    There was movement through the windows of her apartment—good, she was still here. He’d go up, knock on her door, and find out why she hadn’t called Hera. He could understand her not texting him back, sort of. But her best friend, when they’d parted on good terms? Something was up, and maybe if he knew what it was, he could help her out.
    She stepped outside while he watched from the other side of the street. She wore jeans again, and a white tank top with some kind of girly pattern embroidered into it. Her red hair was pulled high in a ponytail, and it cascaded straight down her back. He wondered if she had to wear it in a bun like ballerinas he’d seen in pictures and movies, and that seemed like a damn shame.
    Maybe she’d let him watch her dance. He followed her as she walked, keeping his distance so he didn’t look like a creeper…although following a woman like this probably made him a creeper.
    She traveled for quite a few blocks, into a busier section of Reno. Quentin felt his jaw drop when she stepped inside a dark-windowed place with a neon sign blaring the words “Lollipop Lounge.”
    What the hell was she doing?
    He waited a few minutes and followed her in, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. This was definitely a strip club, though. Three women stood on a stage, gyrating to some slinky nineties hip hop song. Their breasts were bare, and from time to time they’d approach the few men in the audience who sat near the stage waiting to stuff bills into the women’s underwear.
    Quentin had a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he ordered a drink so he could wait and see if his gut was right.
    The place wasn’t very crowded, probably because it was still pretty early in the afternoon. Quentin found a table that didn’t look too sticky, and he sat there, sipping his drink, trying not to ogle the women who clearly wanted to be ogled. He had a bit of a problem with this. Was it disrespectful? Strip clubs had always seemed skeevy to him. Why would he pay money to see a naked woman, when he could see a willing naked woman for free and make her feel really good at the same time?
    The song ended after a few minutes, and a new tune started thumping over the speakers, sensual, upbeat. The men started clapping and whistling, and Quentin looked up again.
    Emma was onstage, wearing a tight tank top that zipped up the front, and a little skirt, and high platform heels that made her long dancer legs look twice their length. Her hair was down, and her make-up was slicked on in a way that made her look not exactly like herself.
    His cock jumped at the same time he said, “Shit.”

six
    Emma heard the regulars cheering as soon as her opening song began, a “Moondance” remix. To the men, she was making an entrance, lifting her leg high to hook it around the pole, leaning back, thrusting out her