did.
It seemed to take years for them to go out.
His hand went right up, wrist to lips.
“Red polo. Jeans. Thinning hair. Second row. Left side. Stay on him,” he ordered before tagging Lottie’s robe.
He was two seconds late in throwing it over her bare shoulders.
She took off her top only in the final few seconds of her last song and never her panties.
He still really hated it that hundreds (probably thousands) of people had seen her mostly naked.
But tonight, he hated it oh so fucking much more.
He didn’t have headspace for that.
The second she had her hands through the arms of the robe, he took hold of her and started to move her to safe ground.
“Eyes on him,” Axl, one of his buddies on Hawk’s team said in Mo’s earpiece. “I’m on him. Following through.”
This meant Axl would tail him home.
He got Lottie into the room, the girls streamed out, and he looked down at her.
“Gonna step into the hall. Be gone half a minute. Lock the door. Get dressed.”
She stared up at him, her hands arrested in the act of tying her robe closed.
“Lottie,” he growled.
“Okay. Locking the door,” she whispered.
He went out. Heard the lock go.
He then stepped two steps to the side and pulled out his phone.
He called Hawk.
“Status,” Hawk said as greeting, not sounding like Mo just woke him, even though Mo knew he just woke him, and waking Hawk, he probably woke Hawk’s wife, Gwen.
Undoubtedly a common occurrence for Gwen.
Fortunately, she was a kickass chick and she loved her man so much, Hawk could grow a beer gut and take up fishing every weekend and she’d simply wait for him to come home and still jump his bones.
“He’s here tonight.”
“He made a move?” Hawk asked.
“No. But I know it’s him. Axl’s on him. I want him taken tonight.”
Hawk said nothing.
Mo didn’t either, letting his boss think.
Finally, Hawk spoke.
“Gut?”
“Yeah.”
“How sure?”
“Very.”
“We’ll take him tonight. You’re wrong, we’ll figure it out.”
“I’m right, I want in.”
A moment then…
“She’s under your skin,” Hawk murmured.
“She’s not under my skin. I sleep on her couch. I guard her. But when this is over, she’ll be in my life. My choice? For the rest of it. So that’s not under my skin. She’s just going to be a part of me.”
Hawk did not sound surprised when he asked, “And her?”
“That part of where we’re at for her has been difficult to contain.”
“You should have reported this,” Hawk said impatiently.
“I would have, but it’s been contained.”
“It’s been contained, and you wouldn’t let me pull you off her detail, which, if I knew this, was what I’d fuckin’ do.”
Mo decided not to respond to that.
“So, knowing this, I’ll ask again. Your gut. How sure?” Hawk asked.
“This is our guy.”
“I wouldn’t normally ask, you know it, but—”
“She was dancing, he was watching me, not her. Second row. Faded-out polo. But new jeans.”
“New jeans?”
Hawk didn’t make that query because he didn’t get it.
He made that query because that nailed it.
“And I’d stake my life that I saw him Sunday in King Soopers,” Mo added.
“We’ll move,” Hawk declared. “Now. And you’re in.”
Thank fuck.
Hawk disconnected.
Mo pulled oxygen through his nostrils.
Then he turned and knocked on the door to Lottie, shouting, “Mo!”
Every inch of his skin crawled. His muscles felt twitchy.
He wanted to be out there.
He needed to be in the dressing room.
She opened the door.
He crowded her in.
He then said a prayer of gratitude that she hadn’t fucked around putting on her street clothes.
“What’s going on?” she asked as the door clicked behind him.
He locked it without looking at it. If a girl needed in, she’d just have to knock.
Lottie’s face was pale.
“He’s here.”
“Ohmigod,” she breathed. “How do you know?”
“I know.”
“Are they—?”
“Just do your thing, Lottie. Let’s get you home.”
“But, are they—?”
He lifted both hands and framed her face.
Her eyelids went hooded and her body swayed to him.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She was so fucking his.
Mo fought how badly he needed to claim that and repeated his order of, “Just do your thing, baby.”
It took her a beat.
But then she whispered, “Okay, Mo.”
That was his girl.
He pressed in lightly and let her go.
It was slow, he could tell she was concentrating on her movements, but she walked back to her mirror.
Mo stood by the door, put his back to the wall and aimed his eyes at the floor.
“You okay?” she called.
“Don’t think about me.”
“That’s impossible.”
Of course it was.
God, he needed to fuck her.
“Just focus,” he ordered.
“Right.”
“And not on me,” he added.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled loudly.
She was totally gonna focus on him, just be quiet