Page 64 of Striker
He huffed out a breath. “Is there a problem? I’m sitting here like every other asshole, and honestly I’m the least of your worries.” He nodded to the table behind him, where a drunk dude was hollering at Candy.
“They’re spending more money than they make. No complaints yet.” She compressed her lips. “Who do I tell her is here?”
It was unlikely Rex knew his name—any of theirs, really. Still . . . “Tom.”
She hiked up a skeptical eyebrow. “Hot-stuff Tom with the shoulders. Got it. I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten you.”
Before he could respond, she pivoted and moved through patrons then disappeared down a dark hall. He swept his gaze over the room, locating the exits and the bouncers. In the unlikely scenario Rex was here and ambushed him, he wouldn’t be a sitting duck. The guys were close as well, and they’d already have their sights on entry points in case of emergency.
“You all right in there?” Viper asked through the earpiece. “Need some backup to pull all the ladies off your lap?”
Atlas fought a smirk. Ass.
“Actually, they asked about you,” he said quietly. “Missing their biggest spender.”
Heat struck his forehead. He looked up to see Blue Hair signaling in his direction to a petite and curvy redhead.
Cinnamon moved his way, not taking her eyes off him. Apprehension tightened his neck. If he said the wrong thing, she could have him thrown out and they’d be even farther from locating Rex.
She wore a pink-cotton-candy-colored dress that hugged every curve of her frame. Her red hair hung down to her waist. “Tom?” Her mauve lips curled with more skepticism than Blue Hair’s.
“You can call me that,” he drawled lazily. “Can I get you a drink?”
She batted her heavily made-up green eyes. “As you can see, Tom, it’s a busy night. Now, since I’m one-thousand-percent certain we’re not old friends, I suggest you tell me why you’re here before I scream.”
Ah, hell.
“Please,” he said, gesturing at the chair across from him. “I just want five minutes of your time.”
She pursed her lips, but pulled out the chair and sat. “I don’t charge by the minute, Tom. If that were the case, I’d be broke.”
So she didn’t just specialize in dancing. “I’ll pay you for two hours if you’re nice. How’s that?”
She shrugged. “Depends what you want my time for.”
He sighed. “Look, I’ll pay you for the night if you promise discretion.”
That got her interest. She leaned forward, and her breasts touched the tabletop. Her eyes narrowed with intrigue. “Sounds like you’ve got some kinks.”
“No kinks. Matter of fact, I don’t want to touch you at all. I want to know when you last saw Rex Younge.”
She straightened away and her cheeks paled. Only the stain of her blush remained. She glanced around, her expression frantic and her eyes wide.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about. I-I’ve never heard that name before.”
He leaned his arm on the table and peered over her shoulder at the bouncers stationed at the edge of the hallway, about thirty feet away. “You’re not in danger, Cinnamon. Least not from me. If he’s here, blink twice.”
She stared at him.
“Not here?” he mouthed.
She gave one shake of her head, so slight he could’ve convinced himself he’d imagined it.
One of the bouncers, who had a long ponytail, leaned toward the other and said something. They both looked their way.
“Can you pretend we’re having fun? I think some people are watching you like a hawk.”
That snapped Cinnamon from her state. She let out a loud cackle, then slapped his shoulder. He smiled, playing along, and lifted his glass to his lips. He didn’t take a sip. If by chance someone had spotted him, he wasn’t going down as a result of drugs in his tequila.
