He turns, those strong, destructive hands clutching my upper arms to stabilize me and my seat. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I lick my lower lip, quick, panicked, and nod. “I was trying to stop your jacket from getting wet and made an even bigger fool of myself.”
“You’re not a fool.” He releases his grip and rights my martini glass as the bartender mops up the mess. “Let me replace your drink.” Dan turns to the woman behind the bar, not waiting for my response. “When you’re done, can you get her another martini?”
“Sure. Just give me a few seconds.”
I remain still, the screaming euphoria of celebration contained to the inner walls of my mind. My plan is working. The foundation has been laid.
“Thanks.” I grin. “That’s kind of you.”
“Not entirely. There’s a catch to my generosity.” He shoots me a glance, his lips kicked at one side. “You have to promise to sit with me until you finish your drink.” His gaze slithers down my body, curving over my breasts, my hips, then lower, all the way to my exposed calves.
I will my cheeks to blush. I will them and will them, but alas, I’m not that fucking demure. Instead, I lower my gaze and bat my lashes. “Actually, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m…working.” I hitch the strap of my small clutch higher on my shoulder. “It’s my first night. I was told to always stay near the bar unless I have an offer.”
His thoughts practically crackle in my head. He’s thinking how easy this is. How perfect. How serendipitous.
You bet it is, buddy.
“Working?” he muses, palming the two drinks the bartender slides toward him.
“Yeah.” I nibble my lower lip, exaggerating my vulnerable, virginal escort role. “I bet everyone can see how nervous I am.”
I glance around the dilapidated bar. Nobody pays me attention. It’s like my favorite drinking hole on the other side of the city—frequented by depressed drunkards too liquored to notice if it’s day or night.
“Maybe a tiny bit.” He chuckles, and I try not to cringe at his equally fake facade. “Come on.” He swings out an arm, his whiskey pointing the way to one of the free booths in the back corner. “It’s only one drink. I won’t take up too much of your time.” He winks. “Unless you want me to.”
I continue to devour my bottom lip. It’s my go-to move. And from the way he keeps glancing at my mouth, it must be working a charm.
“I guess one drink can’t hurt.” I scoot from my stool, grasp the martini glass he offers, and saunter myself to our private destination with the predator close at my back.
My skirt hitches higher with every step, the material creeping teasingly closer to my lace panties, until I slide into the booth.
“Get yourself settled.” Dan places his whiskey on the table, his free hand twitching at his side. “I need to excuse myself for a moment.”
“Okay.” I sip from my glass, watching him over the rim as he strides to the restrooms.
He may be heading for the bathroom, but I know his main objective isn’t to use the facilities. He needs to calm himself. To lessen the adrenaline spurring him to make snap decisions.
Day to day, he can fool the average Joe. From my time watching him, I’ve learned he gets careless when close to obtaining a fix. He turns into a stereotypical addict—jittery, breathless, and unable to control the need to rush to the finish line.
I’ve triggered his game.
There’s no turning back.
He wants me. Needs me. He’s hungry for my screams, and that’s okay, because I’m just as hungry for his.
This man, although vile and psychotic, is actually quite special. He’s not just the focus of another one of my retribution projects. He’s more. Much more.
This smug piece of shit could be the key I’ve spent ten years searching for. He could quite possibly be my Holy Grail.
With a lazy glance around the room, I open the tiny baggie stuck to the inside of my blouse cuff and rest my fingers on the rim of his glass. Fine white powder falls over my palm and into the liquor, the Rohypnol dancing through the liquid with such choreographed perfection I can’t hold back a smirk.
The sight is beautiful. Peaceful. Karma in motion.
I dust my gloves gently, brushing off the evidence, then bite the olive from my toothpick and give the concoction a stir. In seconds, the betrayal disappears, dissipating into sweet nothingness.
Every inch of me thrums, pulsing and throbbing from the inside out. The enjoyment only increases when the door to the men’s bathroom opens and Dan strides forward with a wicked grin.
He thinks he’s good, and I’ve gotta give it to him, when it comes to being a sadistic son-of-a-bitch, he’s a real winner. What he doesn’t realize is that when revenge is the aim, I’m the motherfucking queen.
Years of experience flow through my veins. Retribution is my specialty.
I discreetly flick away the toothpick and paste on a chaste smile as he reaches the booth.
“Everything okay?” I ask as he hovers at the end of my seat, his forehead beading with sweat, his gaze darting around the room.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Leave?” A twinge of panic unfurls in my belly, and I shove it down with a sip of gin. I’m the one in control here. Not him. “I can’t. I’m working, and you haven’t even started your drink.”
He grasps his glass and downs the contents in two large gulps.
Big mistake, Danny. Fucking huge.
I release a girlie laugh, the sound obnoxious to my ears. “You’re eager.”
“I guess I can’t help myself. You’re a beautiful woman who’s nervous about her first gig. My gentlemanly nature means I’m obliged to ease your burden.”
I take another sip, a tiny one to ensure I remain level-headed. “And how will you do that?”
“By being your first customer.”
Ding, ding, ding. Jackpot.
“Oh.” My response is shy, but no matter how hard I try, I still can’t get my cheeks to heat. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
He reaches out a hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” I can’t leave. Not yet. The drugs need time to start their numbing goodness. “We haven’t discussed payment.”
He reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a wallet. “Name your price.”
“That depends on the service.”
He retrieves a stack of bills and places them on the table. “Is this enough for a few hours?”
My lips part as I pretend to be gobsmacked by his generosity. In reality, I’m scrambling to stall. “Yeah.” I slide my fingers over the money, drag it toward me, then slip it into my clutch. “That’s more than enough.”
“Come on, then.”
He raises his hand again, and I stare. It’s still too soon. Too quick. If I leave now, I’ll have to think on my feet to slow down this sequence, and although I’m shit-hot and shiny when it comes to this, I’d prefer not to take unnecessary chances on such a special project.
“Can I finish my drink first?”
His mask of charismatic charm falters with the narrowing of his gaze. “I don’t have all night, sweetheart.”