“You seem to notice a lot,” she says, her gaze tracking over me deliberately. “I notice a lot, too. Like the fact that your name isn’t Lawson. Not according to your credit card, Alex.”

A heated spark shoots up my back, a current of electric excitement. She just ticked up the score a notch on her assessment.

“You’re extremely observant,” I say. “Maybe I wasn’t comfortable enough to give my real name, either.”

Her gaze narrows. She doesn’t believe me. “Look. My time is better spent entertaining in private. That’s what my clientele pay for. Which”—she makes it a point to look at my clothes—“I’m sorry to say, is very out of your price range.” She levels me with a severe glare. “You should leave, whoever you are.”

Those eyes…that stare… It’s unnerving.

I lean in toward her and lower my voice to an audible whisper. “You’re not a whore.”

Her blood-red lips tip upward. That smile is disarming. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“You’re not an escort,” I clarify. “What are you, undercover? FBI? Trying to take down an escort ring, underground MMA fights? Or does it have to do with Ericson and his firm?”

The value of a predator is unrecognized, unappreciated. I am not one to take predators for granted. Her skills far outweigh those of one simply offering physical indulgence. Whatever this woman’s purpose here tonight, it’s not to bring pleasure to men. In truth, I’m probably doing Ericson a favor.

Our moment is disrupted as a guy comes around the corner. Lilah uses the opportunity to inch closer to me. Her body presses against mine, her curves mold perfectly to the contour of my form. She’s a distraction in all the wrong ways, and she knows this. She uses her body as a weapon.

“Whatever your kink is,” she says, “I’m not into it. Maybe Sophie or one of the other girls would be interested.”

“I don’t think Sophie is my type.” No—none of them are the type I need. I’ve found what I’m looking for.

The first step in the scientific method is to identify, and I’ve just identified my new subject. A thrill courses my blood as I stare into the eyes of a psychopath.

She’s the one.

“Trust me,” she says. “I’m definitely not your type.” As she turns to walk away, I grab her arm, and that’s a mistake.

The realization comes with a shock—a literal electric shock that sends a pulse of 20,000 volts into my body.

I hit the floor, my body convulses with spasms. I stare up at her, noting the small Taser in her hand too late. Christ. That was unexpected. Every muscle in my body seizes with intense cramps. The sudden and immediate sensation of needing to vomit follows the pain. Then, just as suddenly, the torture subsides.

As my muscles begin to relax, I breathe through the wave to catch my breath, and think about getting to my feet, only my reaction time is delayed. She’s on me in seconds and a biting pinch stings my arm.

The beauty with lethal moves looms over me, those intense green eyes peering down with callous disregard, before the world dims black.

Cock-blocked

Blakely

Asshole.

Dragging a corpse is a lot more difficult than one imagines. The VIP lounge floor is carpeted, making the task of moving this guy’s lifeless body nearly impossible.

No, he’s not dead—but I wouldn’t feel any remorse if the dose had stopped his heart. Just to be certain, I press two fingers to his neck and check for vitals. His heartbeat is steady as it pulses against my fingertips.

I stuff the mini stun gun and syringe into my bag and drop the clutch on top of his chest so I can grab both his ankles. “Come on, you ass—” I yank hard and gain an inch. By the time I get him near the men’s bathroom, I’ve taken too long, but I don’t need Ericson or anyone else discovering him this way. This guy—whoever the hell he is—has already botched tonight pretty good.

Why is he here? What does he want? Who sent him? A previous target bent on revenge? Ericson’s wife checking up on me?

No time to investigate now. I just need him to shut up and go away. I find a storage room next to the men’s bathroom that’s used for toiletries and cleaning supplies. I push the door wide and use my heel to roll him into the small storage room.

He lands on his side, arms and legs sprawled. Checking my vicinities, I do a quick sweep, then hunch down and rifle through his pocket to look for an ID or phone. I want to know who this Alex creep is, since I was only able to make out his first name on his card.

I feel something….and pull out a silver pocket watch.

It’s old. An antique, maybe. I shrug and drop it into my clutch. Consider it asshole tax. Before I can manage to flip him over to search the other pocket, the restroom door swings open. I push the closet door closed and straighten my top. Smile at the guy who shamelessly checks me out.

I toss a look back at the closet. Dammit. Ultimately, I decide the job’s more important. My target doesn’t need to start asking questions about his missing escort.

As I head into the main lounge, I slow my steps, giving myself time to revise my plan. I have to get Ericson away from the club. Since I can’t have that asshole waking up and crashing our party, it’s best to move the party elsewhere. I search my clutch briefly and dig out the vial. There won’t be another opportunity to spike Ericson’s martini tonight.

The syringe I plunged into Alex’s arm was a very potent backup measure for Ericson, just in case. As I no longer have that, I’m counting on the GHB cocktail in the vial to be enough.

I have to move forward, or abort.

The first part of the plan should’ve been completed already, but I couldn’t slip the drug into Ericson’s drink, not when that guy wouldn’t take his eyes off me. Which makes me wonder again just who the hell he is and what he wants.

I palm the vial as I glide behind the seat and drape an arm around Ericson’s broad shoulders. “I’m getting restless,” I whisper into his ear, my voice seductive.

He sets his martini glass on the divider between seats and touches my arm. “We’ll leave when I’m ready. Try to amuse yourself.”

My shoulders tense. After the altercation, I’m less inclined to maintain my docile façade. I lean against him and press my lips to his neck, all the while keeping my gaze on the others in the lounge. Then I deftly slip my hand over his martini glass and release the contents of the vial.

“All right, baby. I’m ready when you are.” I push away, taking a few seconds to compose myself before I return to my seat next to him.

Ericson should start to feel the GHB in a few minutes. It’s a strong enough dose that he’ll simply appear inebriated to his friends, but will make him very suggestible. I’ll lead him to his office where I can gain access to his computer and other company systems.

I could bag the whole charade and just break into the building, but I like to keep my jobs on the legal front, for the most part. Saves a headache with police and court proceedings.

I glance at the time on my phone screen, recalling the watch in my purse. During Alex’s lap dance, I noticed his reaction was protective. This object is important to him. While Ericson is observing two of the escorts grinding against each other to the beat of the house music, I slip out the pocket watch and click it open.

It’s a basic watch face with pewter hands. The secondhand ticks away. There’s nothing special about the watch that I can tell, but what do I know about watches or even antiques? I’ll search the Internet later.

Ericson’s head starts to sway, his eyes glassing over. I tuck the watch into my purse and slide his way, run the tips of my fingers along the nape of his neck. He revels in the stimulation, the drug that courses his veins makes every touch heightened, pleasurable.