CHAPTER 09

I ’d been to enough strip clubs to know what they were like—weren’t my thing but I still got them. The Cove was anything but a fucking strip club.

First off, I’d never worked so hard to get into a goddamn strip club in my life. The first guy checked my license without a word. The second guy made me walk through a metal detector. The third checked in my fucking phone and keys. That’s right. They had a coat check for phones and keys. If something happened to my girl, I’d fucking tear the place apart from the inside out just because I could. Tact be damned.

All this took place in a black room with blue lighting and no sound. Weird as fuck. It was more than enough to set me on edge. I didn’t like losing touch with Ryder.

But The Cove? Fuck me, The Cove was a goddamn experience. The three-story building had been hollowed out in the middle, giving way to several roof-to-first-floor waterfalls that spilled into pools around several smaller dance stages. There were tables, couches, and chairs everywhere. The bar stretched one fucking wall with three bartenders while music played from somewhere.

From what I could see, the second floor was all private rooms—for dances I assumed. The third floor was closed off with one door in and one door out. Probably for the owner and staff to use.

Girls in itty-bitty clothing sauntered everywhere. Blondes, brunettes, and redheads with pretty faces and curvy bodies moved like perfect storms throughout the place. They smiled at everyone, touched shoulders, and whispered in their ears as they passed. Every fucking man in the place was completely enthralled with them.

The atmosphere was electric, vibrating along my skin. A comfortable haze fogged my head as I weaved through the crowd, taking my time to absorb everything. There was a sort of reverence—a respect— in the air that made no goddamn sense as it smelted over me. I’d walked into a strip club, but the guys around here treated it like we’d walked into a fancy fucking theatre. Whatever fucking worked.

The bar was surprisingly empty and seemed like a smart fucking place to put my feet up. Though the pull to find a girl and settle somewhere else was fucking strong. I shook my head and forced myself to focus.

Siren. Siren. Siren.

I was hunting a goddamn siren.

I refused to get distracted by tits… no matter how goddamn tempting they were. My gaze tracked a pretty redhead as she passed, giving me a million-dollar smile. Okay, I barely caught the smile. My eyes were stuck elsewhere.

“Fuck me,” I grumbled, scrubbing a hand over my face. I had to get it together. Jesus fuck . What was wrong with me?

“We don’t do that here,” the bartender said. And then she winked, which told me they did do that shit here. They just didn’t advertise it. No wonder this place was so fucking popular. “What can I get you?”

“Beer is fine,” I replied. I just needed something to calm whatever weird energy was surging through my body. “Beer is good.”

“Name for the tab?” she asked.

“Gray works just fine, darlin’.” I flashed her a charming smile. She rolled her eyes, but the small smile that turned her lips wasn’t lost on me.

“First one’s on me, handsome.” She set the chilled glass in front of me and leaned on the bar, getting closer. “But if you want more, I expect a big tip.”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on me as those gorgeous blues waited for me to say something. I inched closer.

“Would a… slightly above-average tip work for you?” I retorted, completely poking fun at myself to make her laugh. It worked, and the sound was heavenly.

“God,” she scoffed. “You’re a terrible flirt.”

“I’m charmin’ as fuck, darlin’. I’m also damn good at making all the pretty girls laugh.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” I said. “But then I always did have a thing for redheads.”

Was she always a redhead? The thought was fleeting.

“You’re a smooth one, Gray,” she told me. “I go back on the floor in half an hour. Maybe you’ll buy a dance?”

“I don’t take no lap dances from pretty ladies until I know their names.” Was I laying it on thick? Yeah, I was. But fuck me if this woman wasn’t utterly fascinating. She beckoned me closer with one finger, and I listened like a goddamn simp, ready for whatever she was going to say.

“Name’s Journey.” Her lips hovered over mine. I should’ve received a medal for the restraint I showed by not closing the distance. Her exotic floral perfume was intoxicating, making the room sway.

“Like the band?” I asked.

“Exactly like the band, handsome. I even have a tattoo.”

“That’s hot,” I commented. How bad did I want to see that tattoo?

“Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll take you upstairs later and show you it.” Ah fuck me, I was a goddamn goner. That little way she bit her bottom lip drew my gaze down. What I wouldn’t do to sink my teeth into it.

“I’m holdin’ you to that, darlin’,” I whispered. I acted without a single thought and closed the distance between us. My lips brushed against her briefly. She didn’t pull away, but her fingers curled into my shirt.

“Watch yourself, baby boy,” Journey warned. “You might just end up in a game you can’t win.”

“Try me.” I was always one to rise to the challenge—and from the way my dick was rock hard behind my zipper, rising wouldn’t be the issue. My sanity might just be. I hadn’t had a single fucking sip, and I was drunk out of my mind on the pretty redhead with a band name.