Page 42 of Ballistic

We strolled up to the door. Just inside, a man dressed in black, scrolling through his phone, paused to give Dax a nod. At the easy handshake between the two, I deduced they must’ve known each other a while.

“Who’s your girl, Dax?” he asked, licking his lips and not bothering to hide that his gaze was planted square on my ass.

“Off the menu, brother. You touch her, and I’ll have to break every bone in your hand.”

The bouncer sneered and went back to scrolling through his phone.

I, on the other hand, took a moment to bask in the delight of not having to say it myself for once.

Making our way down the hallway, lit by a dim red light, we passed rooms where girls stood before a wall of mirrors, their tits hanging out. Totally oblivious to anyone that might be walking by. Guess it made sense in a strip club, but I couldn’t deny the strangeness. The ease of it. Even when Tesarik had insisted I not wear panties in his house, after a nearly a year, I’d still not grown used to it.

“’The fuck, Dax? You don’t say hi no more?” A caramel-skinned woman, with what I guessed were size D’s overtop of a glittery bustier, peeked around a doorway. “Oh, I see how it is, you got your girl with you. Too good for us now.”

“How’s it going, Cerise?” Dax strode back toward her, wrapping her in a hug that pressed those big titties of hers against his chest. “Here on business. You seen Ricky?”

“Business, you say?” she asked, peering around him at me. “If she’s business, I’d love to see who you do for pleasure, baby.”

Hands stuffed into his pockets, as if to suggest we weren’t together, Dax backed himself beside me. “This is Nic.”

Ignoring his introduction, Cerise turned her attention back to Dax. “Ricky’s in his office, as usual.”

“Oh! Dax is here!” someone shouted from one of the rooms. Two more girls emerged, slightly more dressed than Cerise—in other words, their breasts were covered, but asses still divided by a thong.

“I missed you, Daddy, where you been?” The brunette slid her arm into the crook of Dax’s and stroked his bicep.

Daddy. I inwardly rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d fucked all the girls there, or if they were always that friendly with him.

“I’ll catch up with you ladies later. I gotta talk to Ricky.” Dax’s big hand gripped my shoulder and tugged me to follow after him.

“Come see me, Dax.” A blonde stood with her hip kicked out, hand resting there. “I’ll give you and your girl a lap dance.”

“Ah, she’ll love that, Chante. Reste belle, mon amour.”

“Je t’aime.” She blew him a kiss and slinked back into the adjacent dressing room.

“You speak French?” I asked as we kept on down the hallway.

“Nope. Googled that shit.” Dax pushed through a door where the bass of the music from the club pounded through the walls.

We came to a halt in front of yet another door, and Dax opened it a crack first, before entering a small office where a stocky-looking man sat with his feet kicked up on a messy desk, smoking a cigar.

Phone held to his ear, he lifted a finger signaling us to wait. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you tonight. Thanks, baby.” He clicked the phone off and pushed to his feet, reaching out a hand that Dax stretched over to shake. “Dax! My man, where the fuck you been? Ain’t seen you in months.”

“Been busy. How’s things been?”

“Good. Business is good.” The man’s eyes landed on me, and I caught the corner of his lips lift. “Who’s this pretty thing?”

“Nicoleta,” Dax answered for me. “Listen, I’m not here on a social call. I want to know if you’ve heard of a club somewhere in the city. Underground scene. Need a tattoo to get in.” Dax slid his sleeve back, revealing the circle seven tat on his arm. “BDSM club in some hotel.”

“Nice ink. But you don’t want to go there, Dax.” Finger pointed at Dax, Ricky shook his head, falling back into his chair. “Some bad shit. “And I know bad.”

“We’re looking for someone.” Dax planted himself on the only chair and gestured for me to sit on his lap.

The urge to frown tugged at my brows, but perhaps it was all show, for whatever reason. Maybe he needed the guy to think I was with him, so I did as he asked, taking in the feel of his hard thighs pressed against my ass.

“A girl?”

“Some asshole named Jasper.”