from the waist up, and my nipples are pebbled against the cool, dry club air. Right now I wish I could just dance for Havok and tune everything else out.
Brock knows I don't want him coming here when I'm working. But of course he doesn't respect that. It's just another way for him to lord power over me, because when I'm working, I can't say no.
Yeah, I could tell Igor he's bothering me and have him kicked out, but the consequences at home wouldn't be worth it.
"Get down here and gimme some love," he says. The club is so empty that I don't have an excuse not to. It's just him and one other customer, who's having drinks with a girl at the bar.
"Pull your chair up here," I say. He scoots up to the edge of the stage. I drop down to my hands and knees, crawling toward the edge.
"Great tits, babe," he whispers, slurring his words. He tries to put his face in my hair, to get close to me, but I pull away. To anyone else in the club, it must look like I'm handling an unruly customer. But the truth is, he truly repulses me.
"Be nice," I say, trying to scold him gently. With Brock, it's a constant battle to walk the line, to stand up for myself without pissing him off too much.
"Don't you fuckin' sass me," he growls in a low tone. Looks like I failed anyway. The wretched smell of booze billows around my nostrils. He reaches into his pocket, digs around, and withdraws a handful of one-dollar bills. "Be a good girl and get on my lap."
My face reddens in humiliation, and I suddenly feel sorry for myself. Those bills are from my last shift. He's paying me for a lap dance I don't want to give him, using my own money.
For a split second, I think of leaping off the stage and going to Igor. But I can't. That would be too stupid. Best to just get this over with.
I climb onto his chair and grind on his lap, focusing on the music. Over Brock's shoulder, I see Havok. He's wearing a dark blue button-down shirt tucked into well-fitting slacks. He's so handsome tonight. And he's watching us intently.
"Hey," Brock hisses into my ear, "I got somethin' special for you tonight."
I don't reply. I don't want to know what it is.
"I'm gonna give it to you in the ass. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," I reply flatly. Not with you, I think to myself.
As I dance on Brock's lap with my eyes closed, I feel his hands wander over my thighs, up my sides, and onto my breasts. My skin crawls. I open my eyes, and right as I'm about to tell him off, Havok storms toward us.
12
Havok
I'm on fucking edge during my next shift. This assignment is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because it's me who got the assignment to kidnap Penny. That means I control what happens to her.
But it's also a curse. Because it forces me to make a call, and make it fast. Either I betray this beautiful, innocent girl and sell her into a lifetime of suffering, or I betray the Bratva. And that's more deadly than a bullet to the heart.
I can't betray her. I just can't. So I need a plan, and it needs to be good, and it needs to come together fast. Petrov is expecting delivery within 48 hours.
So the last thing I fucking need is when Penny's fat, piece-of-shit boyfriend waltzes into the club. I try to control myself, but when Penny's set starts and she comes out on stage dressed in a sexy-as-fuck red lace piece, I can barely contain my rage. Being in the same room as the piece of shit who's putting his dick inside her every night, I just can't fucking handle it.
My hands ball up into fists, and my teeth grind together like gravel.
When the first song hits its chorus, she slides her shoulder straps off and pulls the fabric below the bust of her breasts. I swear she's staring right past her boyfriend, looking me in the eye.
But then the son of a bitch catcalls her, and waves her down for a dance. And when I finally catch him groping her breasts, that's all I need. The club maintains a strict no-touching policy and grants no exceptions for boyfriends. Under normal circumstances I'd give a warning first, but not this time. I've