Page 85 of Dance of Devils

“What do you mean, the other girls are jealous because she can dance?”

She shrugs. “I mean, the girl has seriousmoves. It makes her atonof?—”

“I was under the impression that she was a cocktail waitress here.”

Caroline smiles wryly. “You’re not the first guy to get that line, baby.” She shakes her head. “She’s doesn’t serve drinks. She’s one of our top dancers.”

I. See. Fucking.Red.

Pure, unadulterated savagery roars through my veins as I picture Brooklyn seductively peeling off her clothes as jeering men whistle and leer. Swinging around one of those fucking poles. Bending over. Showing them everything.

Wriggling in their goddamn laps, grinding on their fucking dicks,letting them touch her…

“Hey…”

I blink back to reality when I feel a hand on mine. I glance down and see Caroline touching the back of my tightly clenched fist, my fingers digging viciously into the cheap “leather” upholstery.

“You okay, baby?”

“Fine,” I hiss before I clear my throat, trying to collect myself. “I’m fine.”

I’m about to ask her which of the men currently in this fucking place are regulars, have seen Brooklyn dance, or have put their filthy hands on her, so I can summarily execute them here and now. But before I can, she takes a deep breath.

“I worry about her, you know.”

I lean closer. “Because she doesn’t belong in a place like this?”

Caroline nods. “Well, that and…” She trails off, glancing at my pocket again.

“I’m not paying you any more money,” I growl.

She grins. “Yousure?”

Fuck, she’s good.

I peel offanotherhundred and hand it over. Caroline grins, tucking it between her tits, then makes a face, sighs, and leans a little closer.

“Look, this isn’t like, public knowledge or anything. But…well… Shesaysshe lives with Maya, this other girl who works here, but I know Maya pretty well and I’ve been to her place a hundred times. She lives alone.”

My frown deepens. “So where do you think Cherry lives?”

Caroline eyes me. “Why do you care? You her dad or something?”

Dad. I grimace. “Just a concerned friend.”

“Uh-huh.”

I cock a brow. “Do Ilooklike a sexual predator?”

Her lips thin. “They rarely do, baby.”

Touché.

“Look,” I growl. “I know her through her other job, at the ballet. I’m worried about her. She’s incredibly talented, but she’s clearly in trouble, and she’s slipping. I want to be there to catch her when—not if—she falls.”

Caroline slides her eyes over me, nodding.

“Okay, that was good. A little practiced, but good.”