Lev

Nas: Who the fuck is this?

Lev also managed to get me a state ID card, which explained why Nas had me get some wallet-sized portrait photographs done the last time we were at the mall. I shouldn’t have been surprised that it had all my accurate details on it, but I was. I smiled. “How’d you get this, you sneaky goose?”

He sat at the kitchen table, seeming pleased by the reaction. “I know people.” That much was clear. He seemed to have co

I glanced down at the ID card.

Mina Clarabelle Harris.

The address listed was…Lev’s.

I didn’t bother questioning why. I was sure he did that because he had to provide some address that was partly valid, and I’d been living here for the past four and a half weeks.

Parking a block away, Vik worked quickly, placing the surveillance camera disguised as a large button on the lapel of my black jacket, underneath my coat. The big black button appropriately read ‘I’m silently judging you.’

Vik explained, “This isn’t a live cam. I’m not going to be able to check the footage until you get out of there and we get back to the club. If you think anyone’s onto you, don’t think; just hightail it.” At my nervous nod, he smiled. “Just sit down, order a drink, and watch the show, like you would with us. No biggie.” He added, “It would probably help if you lost the I’m-out-of-my-depth expression.”

“Shut up, Vik.” I shoved his arm away and he chuckled.

I was ready to go. Leaning over the seat, I gripped Lev’s shirt and pulled him to me. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be back in an hour, okay?” He grunted, not looking at me. So I forced his attention. Getting closer, I pressed my glossed lips to his cheek softly. “Be back before you know it.”

Aphrodite’s Kiss shocked me. The way the boys talked about it, I expected a hole of an establishment, but it was gorgeous.

The Greek theme meant strategically placed large white pillars with delicate flowers and greenery painted on them, big wooden booth tables intricately designed and trimmed with gold, the booth cushions decorated with the typical Greek meander pattern (in gold, of course), and the stage…wow. It looked as though it had been designed in a dramatic 1900s style, complete with heavy red velvet drapery.

I was impressed.

I did as Vik told me to. I ordered a drink, took a seat, and faced the stage. Half an hour later, the show started. The lights dimmed low and spotlights shone on the stage; the curtains opened and I gaped.

Four men, gorgeous and ripped, wearing white material draped over their upper thighs, showing the tops of their asses, holding up a woman draped seductively on a small sofa attached to a platform. Each man took a corner of the platform and carried her in effortlessly.

It was quite a show.

The woman, who had a feathered fan covering her face, lowered it as the men placed the sofa on the ground.

“Fuck a duck,” I whispered.

It was ChaCha. She was dressed as a Greek goddess. She, of course, introduced herself as Aphrodite.

I watched her performance. It was a skit of sorts, a cross of stripping, drama, and humor. I didn’t want to admit it, but she was a good actress. She had the men eating out of her shimmer-covered hands and staring at her glittered bosom. It finished when ChaCha was down to her pasty-covered ChoCha.

The men cheered as the curtains fell. The music was turned up, and two other women took to the stage to perform a very average pole routine. I’d seen better at Bleeding Hearts. Half an hour later, another skit took place.

I was begi

Unfortunately, I was starting to see why they had a wi

I’d seen enough. Standing, I moved to leave, but was almost bowled over by a man. I squeaked, steadying myself before I fell. The man turned. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He smiled apologetically.

Oh, dear God.

My heart sank so deep it ended up in my stomach.

Sandwich bar guy’s eyes narrowed at me. “Hey, I know you.” He looked me over. “You’re the homeless chick.”

I shook my head, trying to look angry at his calling me homeless. “No, I think you have the wrong person. Sorry.”

I moved to walk away, but he caught my arm, pulling me back. It was obvious he’d had some to drink. He laughed loudly. “Oh, come on, I know it’s you, girl. No man forgets a face like that.” He leered down at me. “You’re looking much better.”

“Get your hands off me,” I sneered.

He tsked. “Too bad you’re not hungry anymore.” He shook his head in regret. “Damn, you’re a pretty one.” He leaned down to speak directly in my ear. “I’m regretting not taking you up on your offer that night. My cock craves your mouth, baby.” He added, “What would it take for the offer to be reinstated?”

“Hell to freeze over, you dirty asshole.” I shoved him away as hard as I could. He lost his balance, fell back, and all attention fell on me.

Hundreds of eyes turned to me. I flushed, looking toward the security guards that had just stepped forward to intervene. I snapped at them and spoke brashly, “Is that how you let men in your club treat women?”

Then I made a huge mistake.

I walked away, calling back loudly, “No, thanks. I’ll be taking my business to Bleeding Hearts.”

Chapter Twenty

Laredo

My mouth parted in shock. I watched the woman leave, my heart beating fast.

Alessio came to my side. “What should I do, Pop?”

My eyes turned to focus on the man she had argued with. “Ban him.”

My son stilled and I felt Alessio’s shock. “What? Why? They had words, that’s all. No big deal.”

I shook my head. “This is a safe environment, figlio. He brought that shit into my club and killed the mood. I won’t tolerate it.” My mind made up, I repeated myself, “Ban him.”

Alessio left to do my bidding, but I was still focused on the exit. I was sure I’d seen a ghost.

“Clara,” I whispered to myself. I needed to see her again, see her up close, with my own eyes.

And I knew just where I’d find her.

Chapter Twenty-One