Locke

Page 2

“Dude.  She’s a fine piece of ass, right?”  The man she was just talking to speaks in awe.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” I growl, feeling that rage return like a switch has been flipped.

“Ah, you’re new here.  Just sit back, my friend, and get ready for the show.”  He laughs, takes a deep pull from his beer, and turns his attention back to the main stage, where the current entertainment is doing her best to swallow the fucking pole with her pussy.  She’s working so hard for it that she might as well be fucking the damn thing.

I’m no stranger to strip clubs.  Back when the guys were all single, we would hit some local ones around California.  No better way to let off some steam from the shit that is constantly swirling around in my head than to sit in a room full of naked woman.  Where the music pounds into your body, the drinks are always flowing, and the pussy is in abundance.

One thing’s for sure: This isn’t a place for Emmy.  Hell no.

Without taking my eyes from Emmy, I drop my body into the nearest booth.  She’s in a heated argument with the bartender and an older man who looks about as run-down as this fucking town.  She throws her hands in the air, her head moving wildly, and if I had to guess, her stunning eyes are burning bright.  She points over to me a few times, and all the older man does is shake his head, obviously not giving her what she wants.  I just scowl at them from the booth, waiting for her to walk her ass back over here so I can explain to her that it’s time to go.

“Hey there, handsome,” a raspy voice says to my right.  “Looking for some fun tonight?  I bet a big man like you would be up for something wild.”

“No.”  I don’t even look at her.  My eyes never leave Emmy—who is now looking at me.  A mix of ire and hurt is written all over her face.  Even with the shit lighting in this place, I can see it…and I hate it.

Fucking hurt?  Is she serious right now?  Pissed I can understand.  She didn’t want to be found and I found her.

“I won’t bite, baby.  That is unless you want me to.”  Her hands snake around my neck and down my chest.

Turning my attention away from Emmy, I look at the bleach-blonde hair, weathered skin, and fake tan of this bitch in front of me.  I’ll give her credit—she tries to hide it with more than enough makeup for about ten women, but this piece of work in front of me has to be pushing fifty.

“I said no, woman.  What part of that didn’t you understand?  And for the last time, do not touch me.”  I reach up and pull her hand off my stomach before she can go any further.

Moving my eyes back to where I last saw Emmy has me coming up empty.  What the hell?  I scan the room but she is still nowhere to be found.

“Ah, sweet cheeks.  I know what you want.  Good luck with that one.  Rose doesn’t play around, and honey, why would you want her when you can have me?  After all, I taught her everything she knows.”  She leans down and, before I can guess her intent, licks my neck, clearly taking my distraction at her words to her advantage.

I turn swiftly and move into her space, making sure she doesn’t mix this shit up in her head to think that I would somehow ever want her ass.

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.  You got that, sweet cheeks?”

She looks me in the eyes for a few beats before throwing her head back and laughing.  The sound of it hits my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“Your loss.”

When she walks off, I start my scan of the room again.  No Emmy in sight.  I run my hand over my buzzed scalp before settling in for the wait.

Thirty minutes later and I still haven’t found her.  The crowd is getting restless.  The chicks taking turns on the stage now haven’t been impressive and they undoubtedly want more.  The pole humper has moved on to one of the smaller stages.  The last act on the main stage was slightly better, but all she did was basically finger-fuck herself on the stage before fumbling to get to her feet on her ridiculous heels.

Jesus Christ.

I wait, determined not to leave until I have her with me.  Another thirty minutes and two more rotations on the stages have my frustration levels going up even higher.  How the hell did she just disappear?  I know she didn’t leave.  The tracking device on her car, which is sitting right next to my truck in the parking lot, hasn’t alerted me of any movement.  I’ll be damned if she takes off on me again.

After signaling over another server, I order a beer and check my phone again to make sure the tracker isn’t malfunctioning.  I’m just putting my phone in my pocket when a deep voice cuts over the music.

“Gentleman of Syn.  It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for.  The one your dicks have been begging for all fucking night.  The Princess of Syn herself.  The one and only, Rose!”

The Princess of Syn?  What an idiot.  I laugh to myself, placing my beer to my lips for a long pull.  The music starts and the first few notes of Lollipop by Framing Hanley fill the air.  Got to give this chick props—at least she picked a good song.

The house lights go down, plunging the room into darkness, before a spotlight hits the main stage.  The smoke clinging to the air gives the stage an eerie glow.  I take my eyes off the action and attempt scan the darkness of the room again for Emmy.  Movement by the back corner catches my attention at the same time that the crowd goes electric.  Idiots start throwing their money left and right, calling to this Princess of Syn to take them.

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