Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“He looked pissed when that guy touched you,” Foxxy adds.
“Yeah, when that dumbass grabbed you, Devereaux launched across the floor like lightning.” Luna looks at me with expectation, like I might have something to add to the story.
I don’t.
All I want to do is catch my breath.
I’m a police officer. I should be able to handle situations like this with no problem. But I’m rattled.
“I’m gonna take five,” I tell the girls and walk toward the door that leads to the back employee area.
There’s no one around when I walk down the hallway to the metal door that stands between me and the outside.
When I step through it, the chilly night air slaps me in the face. I inhale the cool air, wondering what just happened back there at the bar. The look in Devereaux’s eyes when he defended my honor.
A cloud of smoke floats from around the corner of the back loading dock and I creep closer to see who’s back here. When I round the corner, I come face to face with the man invading my thoughts.
He’s enjoying a cigarette, resting his back against the concrete of the building.
His gaze slides over to me and there appears to be a loneliness hidden deep within his eyes.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” I say.
He takes a long pull of the cigarette and blows the smoke out in rings. “No one ever is. Expect the unexpected with me.”
“Is that true?”
He looks like the devil in his black suit, leaning against the wall like he’s trying to get me to sell my soul. And the way he holds himself, his eyes burning holes into my body, might make me want to barter.
“Sometimes,” he says.
“What else should I expect from you?” I step closer, but lose my footing and before I crash to the ground strong hands wrap around my waist, keeping me upright. “Thank you,” I whisper as he steadies me.
“You’re welcome.” He keeps his hands lightly on me as his cigarette dangles from his tempestuous lips.
Once I’m steady, I take a few steps back. “Now you’ve saved my life twice tonight.”
The corner of his mouth lifts with amusement as he flicks the ash from his cigarette and returns it to his mouth. With his other hand, he reaches into his suit pocket and produces a pack of smokes. “Want one?”
I should accept, so I can keep him talking, sneak in a question or two. Yet, I can’t bring myself to accept it.
I shake my head at the offer. “I don’t smoke.”
He returns the pack to his pocket and drops the cigarette onto the ground, stubbing it out with his expensive Italian shoe. “Suit yourself,” he says, pushing off the wall.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I try not to gawk at him like he’s a rare gem in a museum. “I think my mother would kill me if she caught me smoking.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “You always do what your mother wants you to, Swan?”
My insides melt a little at the way he says my stage name. Does he even know my real name? I’m sure he does. I’m sure Devereaux knows everything about his club employees.
“Well, it would definitely be unexpected if she caught me.”
He reaches into his pocket again, opening the pack and offering me a cigarette again. “You sure?”
I blink up at him. “You’re a bad boy, Mr. Huxley, trying to peer pressure me into accepting.”
He laughs, and the sound is rich and smooth. “I wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything.”
I chew on the inside of my lip, wondering if it’s the right time to bring up the murders. This situation requires finesse, and I need this man to trust me. To want to open up to me. Better yet, to keep me employed long enough that I can figure out things on my own. I’ve talked to a handful of girls who work here, and they’re all saddened by the news, but none of them were helpful with the investigation.
“I should get back to work,” I tell him, spinning on my heels, deciding now isn’t the best time. Before I open the door that leads into the back hallways of the club, I peer over my shoulder. “Thank you for handling that guy.”
He nods. “I wouldn’t want to give your boyfriend any reason to worry while you’re under my roof.”
The boyfriend. I keep forgetting about him whenever I’m around Devereaux. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate your chivalry.”
I glimpse a scowl before I head inside, and it does nothing but confuse me more. The rest of the night passes by in a blur, and when I finally make it back home, I head to the fridge for a beer before opening Devereaux’s file on the counter.
I study his life story again, trying to glean if he fits the mold of a killer.