Page 32 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
Gio instantly pours a large glass of whiskey and slams it back before turning his attention to the strippers. He takes out his wallet and pulls out a crisp note. One of the girls drops to a crouch in front of him, and he slips it into her G-string. It seems he now has her attention, and she crawls toward him on all fours. Taking a seat on the edge of the table, she spreads her legs wide in front of him. A lascivious smile works over his lips as she slowly descends into his lap, straddling his thighs. I’ve always seen Gio as serious and professional. Now, I’m questioning my own judgment.
“Jesus, sit down, will ya, Sasha. You’re making me fucking nervous,” Tommy says with a laugh that cuts off as soon as he looks at me.
A third girl enters the small room, bringing yet another bottle. Long, chocolate-brown hair cascades to the small of her back, and a pale-pink, sparkly bikini is the only clothing on her lean body. She looks less enhanced than the other girls, lacking in the peroxide-blond hair or the overly buoyant, fake breasts. She seems…out of place here, and I wonder what brought her to this moment, standing in this room, wearing nothing—not even her dignity.
She comes closer, and I glare. Her head tilts to the side, sending a lock of hair into her face.
“You seem lonely,” she says.
I am not lonely, and I certainly do not wish for her company. Before she can get too close, I hold out my hand, though as I’m about to touch her bare skin, I retract it. There’s nowhere I can place my hand that isn’t inappropriate, dressed as she is. Her palm lands on my chest, and I freeze, long-engrained instincts bubbling beneath the surface.
“Do not touch me,” I snap.
Her blue eyes go wide, and she staggers away from me. She shifts and suddenly looks like an innocent girl, probably no older than twenty-one.
“Aw, come on, Sasha,” Tommy says, tipping back his whiskey. “Let loose a little.”
I glare at him. “I do not wish to partake in such activities.”
It’s Gio who laughs this time, peering around the now naked, gyrating girl in his lap. “You obviously aren’t completely immune to female charms, Sasha.” He lifts a brow.
Tommy cackles. “I swear, I thought you were asexual or something until Adelina.” Just hearing her name on his lips makes me angry. He jerks his head toward the girl. “She’s your type.” Type?
“I do not have a type.”
“Look, I know you’re hung up on Adelina—” Gio starts, though his eyes focus elsewhere.
“I am not.”
His gaze tears from the breasts in front of him to me. “Take it from someone who’s been there. The best way to get over one woman is with another.” He jerks his chin toward the brunette. “Just let her take your mind off it for a few minutes.” He thinks if I allow a woman to strip naked for money, I’ll magically forget Adelina’s plight.
I turn and head for the door. “I’m leaving.”
“There’s nowhere to go, Sasha,” Gio says. “Just sit down and have a drink.” I would rather take on the entire Elite on my own than remain in this club right now.
“I did not agree to this.”
Gio rolls his eyes. “You’re a professional, Sasha. I’m sure you can sit here for half an hour and make sure no one dies.”
“Give me the keys. I will wait in the car.”
“What if something happens? We’re too drunk to defend ourselves,” Tommy says with a stupid smile on his face.
“Then, you die.” I hold out my hand to Gio, waiting for the keys.
On a hard sigh, he finally plucks the keys from his pocket and drops them in my hand. “Don’t leave us here.”
“I will remain on the street.”
I leave the room, and with each step, my chest eases a little. The main club has descended into chaos. Drunk men shove money in the underwear of smiling girls, too inebriated to realize that they’re wasting their hard-earned cash on a woman who won’t even tell them her real name. There’s something sad and tragic about it with all parties involved.
When I get outside, I inhale the crisp city air. The sidewalk is wet, and I always like that distinctive scent of rain in the city. There’s something liberating about it, as though the filth of the everyday is washed clean.
There’s a side door off to the left, and a few girls huddle around, smoking cigarettes, their bare legs on display beneath their coats. I understand that for some women stripping may just be an easy way to make money, but it troubles me, and I’m not sure why. I’ve been to business dealings in such places before, and it’s never bothered me. I’ve always been unaware of anything beyond my weapon and the person I’m being paid to kill.
