Page 15 of Protected By West (San Antonio S.W.A.T. #1)

WEST

When West stopped at the back of the group, unable to get to the doors himself, he gestured at the tinted glass doors.

"All right, gentlemen. Let's head inside."

Duval snorted a little and didn't even try to cover it with a cough. "I keep finding new reasons to love this job."

He made it to the door first and opened it up. The music that reached their ears was loud, brassy. Once the door closed behind them, the interior darkened and the low light in the hallway drew them further in.

There was a soft murmur from behind him, but West didn't know who it came from.

Then he heard someone clear his throat. Dally, leaned in. West could smell the mint from the man's gum. "It sounds like a bunch of women in there."

Duval moved further down the hall and opened up the inner door, holding it open, he shook his head. "Well this isn't at all what I had in mind."

West stepped through the open doorway and continued on for a few steps, clearing space for the others.

He'd been in the club before, called on a late night disturbance when he'd been a deputy. The room was different back then. Darker, the lights made everything look... oily. The ground under his boots didn't squelch or stick like it did back then.

Even the air was cleaner. Cooler.

"The sign out front said it's a Gentleman's Club."

Oxy's voice was softer but still carried and West nodded. "Most days it is. But now they have a couple of nights a month where it's ladies’ nights."

Dally's exhale was telling. "At least it's cleaner than normal."

West ignored the comments from the other men. It wasn't a problem that the men had gone to the club as long as they hadn't gone for fun in their uniforms or started any problems. After all, he'd been there on the job, maybe Dally and Oxy had done the same. "Well, we're not here for the show."

The lights flared and three men moved onto the stage.

Each of them were dressed like they worked in construction, but their coveralls were a little too snug across their chests and... below the belt. When the music started up, the heavy bass beat rev'd up the audience. A bunch of women in the audience got up out of their seats.

West could see drinks in their hands and money, too.

"Sounds like Missy Elliott." Myles nodded his head to the beat.

"I don't think the ladies care what's playing." That from the trooper standing stock still a half step behind him.

It was an apt description of the crowd. The women were hooting and hollering loud enough that it was the bass beat of the music that was pretty much the only part of the piped in audio that they could hear. Everything else was what they could feel.

The 'construction' guys on stage had already removed a few pieces of clothing. As a neon yellow mesh vest went flying into the wings, Duval chuckled. "I don't think OSHA will like that."

"I don't think they're part of the union, either."

West didn't know who'd added that comment, but he smiled.

A trio of women exited the bathroom door off to the right and came to an abrupt stop beside them. All three women looked over their group and walked up to them. The first woman trailed her fingers across Duval's SWAT vest, smiling as her fingers moved across the letters. "Is this the closing act?"

Dally was about to laugh at his friend when the woman beside the first reached up and tugged on his close-cut beard.

"I like this one." She gave him a wink and Weston was suddenly worried that the other man would run for the hills.

"If you need a volunteer on stage," she licked her lips, "then, I'm game. "

Dally tried to step back but the woman had a good strong hold on him and wasn't showing any signs of letting go. "Ma'am, I'm not here as a dancer."

"Ma'am?" She seemed to be focused on only one part of his denial. "Honey, if you want me to be on top. All you have to do is ask!"

Weston shook his head at the panic he saw building in the other man.

Dally turned his head toward Weston and stammered out a request for help. "Major? A little help here?"

Fox was the first one to respond. "Pretty sure you can escape from her clutches, Dally. It's not like she's holding a knife to your throat."

Oxy snorted. "Even if she was, you've been trained for that."

Dally gestured at her with one seemingly helpless hand. "I'm not trained for this... situation."

Fox sighed. "I dunno, West. What do you think? If these men can't get out of here alive and with their dignity intact, we might have to boot them off the team."

Weston folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "I agree. This isn't anywhere near riot status. No one has weapons on them."

Duval grinned at the woman who was cozying up to him, her hands trying to work their way under his vest. "I might have to argue with you on that, West. This woman has lethal levels of feminine wiles."

"Wiles?" Trooper Bonner had barely whispered under his breath.

It was Oxy who stepped back in as he disentangled the grasping hands of the woman who was playing with his collar. "Sorry, ladies. We're actually here on the clock for the Rangers. We're not... and I repeat NOT part of the entertainment."

Once he got his lady's fingers to let go, the others followed suit, likely heading back to their seats for more fun watching the dancers on stage.

Weston was glad they'd given up. It was funny while it lasted, and the ladies weren't so drunk that they were beyond reason.

A woman wearing black from her neck down walked over with a headset and microphone, carrying an iPad in the crook of her arm. "Hi. I'm Olivia, the Stage Manager for the Review. Are we in any trouble?"

West shook his head. "No, ma'am. I'm actually here to talk to one of your employees."

Nodding, the woman gave him a smile. "There's one group number after this one and then we're done. Can it wait until then?"

Before he could answer her the crowd roared.

"Yes! Take it off, baby!" "Shake it!" "You look so hot!" The women were really enjoying themselves.

West looked at the woman beside him. She was grinning.

The show must be going well. There was no reason to dampen the mood.

"We can wait."

She gave him a thumbs up. "Thanks."

The stage manager moved away and put her attention back on the stage.

Dally moved closer and leaned in. "Is she the one in charge?"

Duval shifted and lifted a hand to cover his mouth. "Is one of the dancers moonlighting here outside of their work as a LEO?"

Weston was really looking forward to their reactions. It was half of the reason he'd brought his team to the Club. "No, not one of the dancers."

The crowd moved closer to the stage as the dancer at the center ripped off his overalls, leaving him in a white tank top stretched precariously across his chest and something that looked like a shiny sock over his dick.

"Jack," he explained to the others, "is a bouncer for the show."

He heard a few hums and noises of interest from the other members of the SWAT team.

The crowd of women surged forward, and Duval pointed out a man pushing through the crowd. He had a black t-shirt molded over his chest that looked almost identical to the dancer on stage. "That must be Jack."

West looked over and shook his head just as the man was nearly bowled over by the rising tide of excited women. "Nope."

One woman in a white satin dress with a red sash hanging precariously from her shoulder, wriggled free of a tight knot of women. She tried to right the sparkling crown on her head as she dragged herself up onto the edge of the stage.

Another person in all black stepped out onto the stage from behind the first curtain on the left side of the stage and lifted the likely-sloshed bride-to-be over her shoulder like a fireman before the woman could grab the dancer.

The shiny white pumps that the bride-to-be wore on her feet were suddenly kicking in the air as she was bodily removed from the stage.

In the half-light of the main room, West could see the word SECURITY printed in bright white letters across the back of the shirt.

He hadn't seen it at first, but he chalked that up to the bouncer's surprise appearance from the shadows of the wings.

"You can't do this to me!"

The bouncer didn't stop at removing the woman from the stage.

The handsy patron was kicking and clawing, but the bouncer seemed completely unaffected by the rage of the drunken woman screaming threats.

Even when the music stopped and the noise from the crowd turned into a dull thrum, they heard the nearly inhuman shriek of outrage and then the dreaded, "Do you even know who I am ? "

Weston heard Duval bark out a laugh.

"Another one?"

West heard the exasperation in Duval's tone and agreed. "They seem to be multiplying."

Fox folded his arms across his chest. "Is it something in the water?"

"Hell if I know."

Weston hadn't taken his eyes off the two, waiting for the interaction to reach some kind of conclusion.

Now the eye-catching duo were at the back of the room as far from the over-stimulated ladies as someone could get without leaving the venue, but they certainly weren't far enough away that the audience wouldn't be able to hear the confrontation. Weston wondered how Jack was going to handle this.

And then he got what he'd been looking for.

The bouncer walked to the door that led out to the back terrace and with one hand, pushed it open and stepped outside.

All of the men who'd come in with him followed them out onto the patio, getting there just in time to see the bouncer drop the woman onto her sparkly heels.

"How do you have the nerve to take me away from the show?"

The string of lights didn't offer much in the way of illumination on the patio, but no one needed to see to know just who Jack was... and wasn't.

"I don't really care who you are! You're too drunk to control yourself, ma'am. That's why I removed you from the venue."

"Holy shit." Duval was almost whispering his words. "Jack?"

Weston heard Fox's amused chuckle behind him. "Deputy Jaclyn Morgan."