Her heart pounding as loud as the bass of the music around them, Crystal guided them to a table near the curtained doorway. When it wasn’t too loud or crowded, Darnell preferred to introduce clients to the club out here so he could discuss the public amenities before showing clients what was available in the private spaces.
“What can I get for you boys?” she asked with a smile. And for the first time, she had a moment to soak them all in. And . . . what the hell were they wearing? Plaid shirts, big buckles, blue jeans, boots. The African-American man wore a beat-up John Deere baseball hat pulled low on his forehead. Shane balanced his cowboy hat on one thick thigh.
Looking at him, the men’s appearances suddenly made sense. Disguises. Because Shane looked different yet again from the way he’d been every other time she’d seen him. That first night had been so hurried, but the next night when he’d shown up at the club, then at her apartment, he’d had a hard-edged, bad-ass vibe about him. Earlier today, his look had been more casual. Not average, exactly, because Shane could never be that. But now . . . well, let’s just say he played country boy very convincingly, right down to the pronounced drawl with which he ordered his whiskey.
She couldn’t meet Shane’s gaze, though, because she really wasn’t sure which of the competing emotions might bubble to the surface if she did. Hysteria. Anger. Maybe even humor at the getups.
By the time she’d returned from the bar with the men’s drinks, Darnell was introducing himself and shaking each of the men’s hands. As unobtrusively as possible, Crystal delivered the drinks.
“Now, who’s the bachelor?” Darnell asked.
“That would be me,” the friendly-faced man said, offering his hand. “Darren Morrison. Getting married on Saturday.” They shook.
“Celebrating your last night of freedom?” Darnell said. Crystal had to resist rolling her eyes.
The man nodded. “You got it. When my boys suggested there was no better place to have a send-off than Confessions, I had to agree.” The guys all smiled, including Shane. She had to admit, nothing about them flagged these men as being anything other than what they seemed. Good ol’ boys out for a night of fun.
Crystal would just need to make sure her performance was as strong.
As Darnell dove into his spiel, Crystal stepped to the side of the group as far from Shane as possible. Soon, her manager was leading them into the back of the club, down the long hallway, and into the first of the party rooms. Inside, the men milled around, poked their heads into the bathroom, and tried out the couches while Darnell described how parties typically worked: one waitstaff, two dancers, special attention for the bachelor of various sorts, and the room itself for three hours.
Standing near the door, Crystal watched the men explore the room, totally convinced they were just a group of ordinary guys planning a party. They answered Darnell’s questions about number of attendees, types of food and drink they wanted on hand, and the groom-to-be’s preferences in girls like the subject matter totally engrossed them.
All of which led Crystal to wonder what they hell they were really doing here. Even if Mr. Groom was, in fact, having a bachelor party, it made absolutely no sense to do it here given that Shane and the other man had been involved in the rescuing of Church’s hostage. No matter how she turned it around, she couldn’t get their presence to make any sense.
“Mind if I use the john?” Mr. Groom asked Darnell with a smile.
“No problem,” Darnell said.
As the man disappeared into the bathroom, her manager grabbed the remote and demonstrated the video system. A screen eased down along the one wall, and a menu of movie choices filled the screen. Sports, action/adventures, thrillers, war movies, and, of course, porn.
The guys laughed and joked around about the cheesy titles.
When the man rejoined the group from the bathroom, Darnell continued the tour into the next two rooms. Along the way, Crystal offered to refill drinks, answered the rare question directed toward her, and generally tried to fade into the background.
“Do you have a preference between the rooms, gentlemen?” Darnell asked as he finished showing the last room.
Shane led them in a conversation of the pros and cons of rooms until they agreed to reserve the first, biggest room. Crystal was almost bored as she followed the group of them up the private hallway toward the main part of the club.
The back door flew open and Bruno stepped inside. “Hey, baby,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her into his body, so that she almost stumbled.
“Hey,” she said, blinking away the sense of calm she’d managed to achieve. She had to go and tempt the fates with thinking the night was boring, hadn’t she?
In that moment, Shane looked over his shoulder and caught what unfolded next. As he watched, Bruno pushed her against the wall. Grasped her jaw. And kissed her aggressively. Crystal felt like the kiss moved in slow motion.
Worse, she had to kiss him back. A biting sting sprang to the backs of her eyes as she sank into the kiss and threaded her arms around Bruno’s neck.
Shane’s stare was a physical caress against her skin. And his rage suffocated the very air she was trying to breathe around Bruno’s invading tongue.
And, oh God, as if the man she wanted watching her kiss another man wasn’t soul-killing enough, Bruno’s hands started wandering. Down her sides. Pausing at her breasts. Cupping her ass.
She’d never felt cheaper in all her life.
Vomit made a slow crawl upward from her stomach.
From down the hall, the men’s footsteps receded, then disappeared out into the main club altogether.
No doubt Bruno had just made her decision about whether to shut Shane out a hell of a lot easier. Because there was no way Shane would want her after seeing that. Not six hours ago, she’d stood in the woods in the rain and lost herself to Shane’s touch, his scent, his kiss.
And now here she stood doing the same thing again with someone else. Or, at least, that had to be the way it looked to Shane.
Bruno patted her on the ass. “Gotta go, babe,” he said, as if his actions hadn’t just left her feeling gutted.
She forced a smile. “Okay. See ya.” She watched him strut his way down to the offices and disappear inside.
Half-afraid she might really be sick, Crystal bolted. She pushed through the dressing-room door so hard it banged off the wall behind it. Across the room. Into the stall. Onto her knees.
As her stomach rolled, she stared at the placid water in the old, stained toilet. A cold sweat broke out across her brow and under her uniform, but the urge to hurl receded. Thank God.
She slumped on the floor next to the john, her back against the scratched and dented light blue wall of the stall. At least no one had been in here to witness that lovely scene.
Forcing herself onto her feet, Crystal breathed deeply a few times to make sure her tummy had really settled. Then she applied some new powder and blush to remove the sheen from her face. “Good as new,” she said, hoping a little positive thinking would make her feel better. Not so much.
Damnit. She had to get her head on straight. This was exactly why her gut kept saying Shane McCallan was so dangerous. Frankly, there weren’t many people whose opinions of her mattered. In fact, before Shane, she’d been able to count those who mattered on just one finger. Jenna.
She couldn’t afford to let some man she barely knew scramble her wires like this. There was too much at stake.
With one last deep breath, Crystal pulled the dressing room door open. And walked right into a big, male body.
Crystal gasped. “You can’t be back here!” She grabbed Shane’s shirt with both hands and hauled him into the dressing room, then locked the door. “What the hell are you doing? You’re going to get me killed.” She’d meant the words figuratively, of course, but in point of fact, they possessed some literal truth.