“God, Spence, that’s going to make me come.”
He gripped her ass and dug his fingers in, bringing her sex closer to his mouth, burying his face in her sweet fragrance and pressing his tongue hard against her clit. She shuddered out his name and held on to his hair, jerking and pulsing as she came until she sank into the water and crashed against him.
She soared upward, cradled his face between her hands, and pressed her lips to his in a wild, untamed kiss, before she pulled away and rested her head against his shoulders.
They lay like that for a long while, until the water got cold and Shadoe started to shiver. Only then did he pull her out of the tub and they took a quick shower together. They dried off and fell into bed together. Shadoe passed out almost immediately.
She needed the nap. He enjoyed just holding her, stroking her back and her hair, listening to the soft sounds of her breath.
Yeah, she was right. There was nothing wrong with this togetherness thing, as long as he never lost sight of the fact that it wasn’t going to last.
Love and relationships never did.
But this was the first time in his life that he almost wished it could.
THE WILD ROSE WAS PACKED AGAIN. SHADOE HAD ALREADY gone on once, and like last night, she was surrounded by admirers. Tonight she decided she’d wander around and meet people instead of being stuck at a table. That would give her a chance to mix and mingle and see faces.
There were repeaters from last night, several of the dockworkers she’d seen the day before, and even some new ones. Lots of tourists, too. Brandon told her there were always new faces coming into the club every night, and that was the tourist trade coming in. Some came back, some frequented other clubs, some might come infrequently. He told her you could never set a schedule or determine regulars at a club in the French Quarter, which made her photographic memory even more critical on this mission. And for the first time ever, she felt it would be a useful tool. No way could someone memorize faces night after night and hope they could spot the rogue agent out of thousands of faces studied in the agency’s data banks.
She would, though. She’d nab this bastard selling out to the Colombians.
She saw Pax and AJ sitting at one of the center tables—a great spot to do a little viewing of their own. Though she wasn’t sure if they were really on the job or just ogling the dancers. She went up to their table and bent down to wrap her arms around them.
“How’s it going, guys?”
AJ tilted his head up and graced her with the kind of smile that would turn any woman’s knees to jelly, his stormy gray eyes filled with trouble. “Hey, baby. You looked hot tonight, as usual.”
“You sure did, honey. Hard for a guy to concentrate on anything but watching you,” Pax said, his lips tilted in a sexy smile. Between the two of these guys, a woman didn’t stand a chance. Pax’s face was model worthy, all chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw, and just perfect, kissable lips.
She laughed. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”
“We usually do,” AJ said with a wink.
“So, anything happening tonight?”
Pax shook his head. “Just a lot of pretty naked ladies and guys who want to get into their G-strings.”
“Guys like you?”
“Always,” AJ said, tipping his beer her way. “But we’ve got an inside line we’re working.”
Shadoe arched a brow. “Do you? And what might that be?”
“Hey. Are you trying to pick up my guys?”
Shadoe straightened and saw Ariele coming to a stop at the table to rest a hip against AJ’s chair. AJ slid an arm around her waist.
“Me? Not at all. Just stopping to say hello. So, these two are yours, huh?”
Ariele laughed. “Well, they are a handful, but they sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
Both? At once? Oh, my. Shadoe’s gaze flitted between AJ and Pax, who grinned back at her. “That sounds like fun.”
Ariele’s eyes sparkled with desire. “It is, Desi. You should try it sometime.”
She thought about Spence. One guy . . . or at least one particular guy . . . was more than enough for her. “I’ll give that some thought. Time for me to make the rounds. The three of you have fun.”
Pax pulled out the chair between AJ and him and patted it for Ariele to sit. “We intend to.”
The threesome had already tuned her out before she even walked away. She shook her head and started to move on when she felt an arm slide around her waist. She stilled, then tilted her head to find Spence there. She smiled up at him.
“Where have you been hiding?”
“Talking up Lance a bit.” He led her to the corner of the bar where they had some privacy and ordered them a couple of drinks.
“Find out anything?”
“Not really. I wasn’t hitting him up for information, more just to get friendly with him, see if he’d eventually open up.”
“If he’s anything like his wife, I wouldn’t count on it.” Shadoe’s gaze drifted to Cheri, who had just taken the stage dressed all in white, sprouting white boots and angel wings.
“No surprise what her theme is.”
“Yeah.” Shadoe wrinkled her nose as she watched Cheri glide across the stage. Technically, she was a very good dancer, with great flexibility and awesome moves. It was easy to see why she was the lead. But she lacked something several of the other dancers had in droves—passion and a love for what she did. It was clear that Cheri’s heart wasn’t in stripping. She was out to get rich or become famous, or maybe use this as a springboard to something else. But she didn’t give herself to her audience, didn’t make eye contact with the guys. In fact, she looked . . . bored, walking around on the stage like she expected to be worshipped.
Of course she had a killer body and she used it to her advantage, and all the guys seemed to love it, so maybe to them—and to the Wild Rose—it didn’t matter. But Shadoe saw right through Cheri to the greedy opportunist she was.
She turned to Spence. “What do you think?”
He shrugged. “She sucks. Ariele and Elan are better. They play to their audience.”
She nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
He leaned in to flick his tongue against her earlobe. She shivered. “But you’re the best, darlin’.”
She laughed. “You’re biased because you get to fuck me.”
“Maybe. I still think you make contact with your audience. Guys like that.”
She beamed at his praise. “Thank you.”
After Cheri wrapped up, she said, “I had an interesting conversation with AJ and Pax.”
“About what?”
“I think they’re both fucking Ariele.”
His lips lifted. “Probably. That’s what they do.”
“What’s what they do?”
“They share women.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It started a long time ago. They just kind of fell into it. They’ve been best friends since they came to the Wild Riders. They do everything together, always have. That just naturally extended to women.
“So . . . um . . . why?”
He shrugged. “Guys don’t really talk all that much about sex. That’s just how they do it. I guess they like it that way.”
“That’s interesting.”
He laughed. “Why? You interested?”
“Me? Oh, hell no. I have my hands full enough with you.”
“Good.” He pulled her against him and kissed her, his mouth hot and demanding. When he drew away, she was out of breath.
“I can’t get enough of you,” she whispered. “You make me forget my job.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
She caressed his cheek, loving the scrape of beard bristle against her palm. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to mingle with the customers.”
“Screw the customers. You’ve mingled enough for a while. You can hang here with me until you go on again. Make them hungry for you.”
“You just want to make them jealous.”
His gaze was wicked. “Maybe.”
He turned her around and pulled her back against his chest, then wrapped his arms around her so they could watch the other dancers. Her gaze gravitated to Ariele and Pax and AJ. Pax had his hand in her hair. AJ had his hand in her lap, both of them leaned in close whispering to her. And Ariele seemed to revel in the attention from two men.
Yummy. Not really Shadoe’s reality, but she could well imagine the fantasy—how incredibly enticing and erotic that could be.
Ariele finally pushed back from her chair, kissing both of them before she moved on to the next table. After she left, Shadoe let her gaze drift around the club, watching the other dancers mingle with the crowds. Cheri—minus Lance—came out of the doorway and was greeted with a large crowd of admirers. She had a haughty look about her, almost queenly, as if she expected the adulation. She let her “entourage” follow her around, but never really engaged them. Ugh.
Star was on the stage doing her thing. She was a good dancer, but like Cheri, never seemed to engage her audience.
Elan was back in the lap dance area—a private room off to the side, barely visible through the curtained-off area. She had a guy enraptured at the moment by lying on his lap, her head on his knees while her legs split in a vee, doing a very revealing dance.
And Spitfire had a group of guys totally enthralled at one of the tables while she chatted nonstop in her usual effervescent way.
Other dancers mingled with men at the tables or danced at the side poles set up throughout the place, little mini shows meant to keep everyone entertained no matter where in the club they sat.
It was then, while Shadoe watched one of the dancers twirling the pole in the dark corner at the back of the club, that she spotted a familiar face. At first she thought it was someone she’d seen the night before, but it wasn’t. The face was familiar. A jog of recognition hit her immediately.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” She pulled away from Spence’s grasp and took a walk toward the back of the club, trying to appear nonchalant, stopping to smile and chat with customers along her way. She got a drink from the bartender and made her way through the crowd, staying hidden so the man wouldn’t catch sight of her.
She leaned against one of the thick black poles so she could watch. She needed to get a better view of him. It was dark in the back of the club and she didn’t have a clear view of the guy.
The man crooked his finger at the dancer on the pole. The dancer—Shadoe didn’t know her—stepped off the stage and toward him. With his focus entirely on the raven-haired Amazon straddling his hips, Shadoe stepped out from behind the pole and moved in closer, trying to blend in so she wouldn’t be noticed.
He held on to the stripper’s hips as she ground against his crotch, his head turned down to stare at her ass.
Come on. Look up. She needed to be sure.
When the dancer turned around so she could shake her boobs in the guy’s face, he finally lifted his head. Grinned.
And then Shadoe was certain.
That man was a federal agent: one Jerry DeLaud from Washington, D.C.
FOURTEEN
YES! GOT HIM. THE DEPARTMENT HAD TOLD HER THAT THE NATIONAL agency had no active cases in this area other than the one she’d been assigned to, so DeLaud had no business here. And she knew all the ones currently on vacation. He wasn’t one of them.
Shadoe smiled at the same time her pulse picked up.
She knew she was right. She remembered DeLaud’s agency photo from the endless files she’d studied before this mission. He currently sported a scruffy, unshaven lock, unlike his official agency photo. But it was definitely the same guy.
She had to tell Spence, but she hated leaving DeLaud. Then again, the song had another two minutes, and he’d paid for the lap dance, so it was doubtful he’d go anywhere. She took a few steps backward and rounded the corner, then hustled over to Spence.