an ugly bruise beginning to form under my cheekbone.
“What did they say?” Colt pressed.
“Not much. They called me a slut and a whore, told me they wanted to have fun with me. You know, the usual things you’d expect guys like that to say.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. He took in a deep breath, like he was trying to control his temper. “That’s all they said?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Did they mention anything about money?”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
At first, I didn’t understand. But then I got it. “You mean like paying me to have sex with them?”
He nodded, like this was completely normal in his world. It made sense. I supposed you couldn’t run a strip club without having to worry about prostitution.
“No.” I shook my head. “Not for sex. But they offered me twenty bucks to flash them. Then they called me a whore and slapped me.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel again and his knuckles turned white. I saw the fire burning in his eyes, and I wondered what he would have done to those men if I hadn’t been there. Something made me think it wouldn’t have been pretty. Something about his presence was unnerving me, making me feel like I needed to get out of there. I thought again about the way his arms wrapped around the back of my shoulders, how they pulled me close to him without even asking permission, like he just knew I would want to kiss him.
He was right. I did want to kiss him. An image flashed through my mind, his hands in my hair, his lips on mine, our tongues intertwining. In my daydream he tasted like peppermint and alcohol, and his kisses left me breathless.
Declan.
“You don’t have to bring me to your house,” I said. “I just... you can take me home.” Obviously he couldn’t really take me home. I didn’t have a home. But I could give him directions to the shelter, could make him drop me off around the corner and then wait until he disappeared before I went in.
“No.” He shook his head. “You can’t be alone tonight.”
“I won’t be alone,” I lied.
He raised his eyebrows.
“I have a boyfriend.”
He snorted, like that was completely out of the realm of possibility.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re lying.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if you had a boyfriend, he wouldn’t have let you audition to be a stripper. And if he did, he’s not the kind of man I’d want taking care of you tonight.”
“And you are?” I shot back. Yes, I was lying, but if Colt was so concerned about my imaginary boyfriend letting me go to a stripping audition, then shouldn’t he have been concerned about how he was the one running the strip club?
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I wouldn’t be the one I’d want taking care of you. But unfortunately for you, Princess, you’re stuck with me.”
He was pulling the car into the parking garage of a building now, and my pulse quickened as I realized I was alone with him and I didn’t even know him. It wasn’t much different than going home with a stranger, which is essentially what he was. Just because I knew his name and where he worked didn’t mean it was safe.
He pulled into parking spot with a bright yellow RESERVED sign on the front. As we got closer, I saw that the space was marked PENTHOUSE. So he had the penthouse. God, could he have been any more of a cliché? He ran a strip club and lived in a penthouse. And drove a hot car.
He got out of the car and came around to the side and opened my door for me. I stepped out into the parking lot.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” His eyes flicked down to my wrist again, his gaze lingering on my scars. I quickly yanked the sleeves of my shirt down, and this time, he didn’t ask questions.
“Let’s go,” he said. He took my hand and pulled me toward the elevator.
----
H is apartment was just what you’d expect – guy central. An enormous flat screen TV, black leather couches, a huge black and white