Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Hell yeah, I want to know who’s behind it all.” I blow out an exasperated breath. “Benedict’s the father over at Saint Ignatius Loyola.”
“He’s a priest, and he comes here?” Finn exchanges a look with Geneva.
I shake my head. “I didn’t say that. I said I know he’s the father over at the Catholic church down the road.”
Finn nods, realizing I’m not going to give up any information.
He scribbles in his notepad and then shuts it. “If you know of anything else, call me.” He fishes out a card from his back pocket and hands it over to me. “Even if it’s the smallest thing.”
I take the card and glance at his name written on it. “Will do.”
Trouble is, I’m as clueless as they are about who’s behind everything. And I’m willing to bet Benedict Cole is just as clueless too.
Chapter 8
Chloe
* * *
“You’re the best server in this place.”
“That’s so sweet,” I say, batting my false lashes at the older man occupying one of the high-top tables surrounding the bar. “You’re the best customer,” I purr, flirting a little so I can get that promotion and ‘move up the corporate ladder.’
The older man nearly drools as he hands me a few wet dollar bills—gross—and I slide them into the small apron tied around my waist. Somehow, I side-step his wandering hand before it can pat me on the ass.
Once again, the club is slammed, and I work through my shift, doing my best to keep up with the other girls who work here. Most nights I get home, soak my aching feet, and sulk because I’ve gotten nowhere with this investigation. It’s already been two weeks, and I have nothing to show for it.
I thought I’d be able to spy on Devereaux every night, but I hardly ever see him.
“I need a drink,” a customer who I’ve never seen before slurs. The bad thing about working the main floor is sometimes there are a few patrons who forget their manners. “Chick,” he hollers. “Blondie. Get me alcohol.”
I cross to his table, but before I can speak, he slaps a hand on the wood. “Beer.” He’s already drunk, and I’ll have to call Brandon over here soon. “Now.”
“Well, why don’t we start with some coffee first?” I try to calm the situation, but he’s not having any of it.
He reaches for me, his slimy hand snaking around my waist and pulling me into him. Spittle flies from his mouth as he tells me what he wants to do to me in the private rooms. Vulgar words fly from his lips, and I nearly gag from his sour-smelling breath.
I push away, but before I can free myself from his grasp with one of my many self-defense moves I’ve learned from the force, his body is yanked from me. My heart pounds furiously inside my chest when I see my savior.
Devereaux has his hand around the back of the man’s neck and whispers venom into his ear. “No touching my girls.”
The man sobers immediately, his words screeching out of his mouth. “I didn’t mean to, sir. I was only having a little fun with her.”
“Fun?” Devereaux spins and slams the man’s head onto the bar, pinning him against the wood. “I’m all about fun. I’d enjoy slamming my fist into your face and breaking your fat fucking nose. That’d be real fun.”
By now, security has arrived and they stand behind Devereaux, waiting on orders. I’m in awe of the way Devereaux appeared out of nowhere to rescue me from this jerk. But I have to remember he’s not a white knight. He’s merely trying to keep his girls safe. And I’m undercover, not here to succumb to fantasies or my fluttering heart.
The way his eyes zap with a dark current makes me wonder if he’s capable of killing the girls who work for him. Uncertainty courses through my system when his eyes crash to mine.
“Swan,” he growls, calling me to him.
I take a step closer to him. “Yes?”
“Do you think it’d be fun to break his nose for touching you?”
I’m left mute by the ferocity in his gaze, not sure if this is a serious question I’m supposed to answer. And if I said yes, would he break it?
“You’re a lucky fucker that she didn’t say yes.” He pushes the man’s head against the bar before letting him up and shoving him to one of the random bouncers at his side. “I don’t want to see this fucker ever again in my club.”
The club is dead silent. And then, as quickly as he came to my rescue, Devereaux Huxley stalks away.
I suck in audible breaths as I make my way into the server station.
Foxxy and Luna corner me.
“That was crazy,” Luna says, pushing her light-brown braid off her shoulder. “I’ve never seen Devereaux intervene with a handsy customer.”