She thought about Spence. One guy . . . or at least one particular guy . . . was more than enough for her. “I’ll give that some thought. Time for me to make the rounds. The three of you have fun.”
Pax pulled out the chair between AJ and him and patted it for Ariele to sit. “We intend to.”
The threesome had already tuned her out before she even walked away. She shook her head and started to move on when she felt an arm slide around her waist. She stilled, then tilted her head to find Spence there. She smiled up at him.
“Where have you been hiding?”
“Talking up Lance a bit.” He led her to the corner of the bar where they had some privacy and ordered them a couple of drinks.
“Find out anything?”
“Not really. I wasn’t hitting him up for information, more just to get friendly with him, see if he’d eventually open up.”
“If he’s anything like his wife, I wouldn’t count on it.” Shadoe’s gaze drifted to Cheri, who had just taken the stage dressed all in white, sprouting white boots and angel wings.
“No surprise what her theme is.”
“Yeah.” Shadoe wrinkled her nose as she watched Cheri glide across the stage. Technically, she was a very good dancer, with great flexibility and awesome moves. It was easy to see why she was the lead. But she lacked something several of the other dancers had in droves—passion and a love for what she did. It was clear that Cheri’s heart wasn’t in stripping. She was out to get rich or become famous, or maybe use this as a springboard to something else. But she didn’t give herself to her audience, didn’t make eye contact with the guys. In fact, she looked . . . bored, walking around on the stage like she expected to be worshipped.
Of course she had a killer body and she used it to her advantage, and all the guys seemed to love it, so maybe to them—and to the Wild Rose—it didn’t matter. But Shadoe saw right through Cheri to the greedy opportunist she was.
She turned to Spence. “What do you think?”
He shrugged. “She sucks. Ariele and Elan are better. They play to their audience.”
She nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
He leaned in to flick his tongue against her earlobe. She shivered. “But you’re the best, darlin’.”
She laughed. “You’re biased because you get to f**k me.”
“Maybe. I still think you make contact with your audience. Guys like that.”
She beamed at his praise. “Thank you.”
After Cheri wrapped up, she said, “I had an interesting conversation with AJ and Pax.”
“About what?”
“I think they’re both f**king Ariele.”
His lips lifted. “Probably. That’s what they do.”
“What’s what they do?”
“They share women.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It started a long time ago. They just kind of fell into it. They’ve been best friends since they came to the Wild Riders. They do everything together, always have. That just naturally extended to women.
“So . . . um . . . why?”
He shrugged. “Guys don’t really talk all that much about sex. That’s just how they do it. I guess they like it that way.”
“That’s interesting.”
He laughed. “Why? You interested?”
“Me? Oh, hell no. I have my hands full enough with you.”
“Good.” He pulled her against him and kissed her, his mouth hot and demanding. When he drew away, she was out of breath.
“I can’t get enough of you,” she whispered. “You make me forget my job.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
She caressed his cheek, loving the scrape of beard bristle against her palm. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to mingle with the customers.”
“Screw the customers. You’ve mingled enough for a while. You can hang here with me until you go on again. Make them hungry for you.”
“You just want to make them jealous.”
His gaze was wicked. “Maybe.”
He turned her around and pulled her back against his chest, then wrapped his arms around her so they could watch the other dancers. Her gaze gravitated to Ariele and Pax and AJ. Pax had his hand in her hair. AJ had his hand in her lap, both of them leaned in close whispering to her. And Ariele seemed to revel in the attention from two men.
Yummy. Not really Shadoe’s reality, but she could well imagine the fantasy—how incredibly enticing and erotic that could be.
Ariele finally pushed back from her chair, kissing both of them before she moved on to the next table. After she left, Shadoe let her gaze drift around the club, watching the other dancers mingle with the crowds. Cheri—minus Lance—came out of the doorway and was greeted with a large crowd of admirers. She had a haughty look about her, almost queenly, as if she expected the adulation. She let her “entourage” follow her around, but never really engaged them. Ugh.
Star was on the stage doing her thing. She was a good dancer, but like Cheri, never seemed to engage her audience.
Elan was back in the lap dance area—a private room off to the side, barely visible through the curtained-off area. She had a guy enraptured at the moment by lying on his lap, her head on his knees while her legs split in a vee, doing a very revealing dance.
And Spitfire had a group of guys totally enthralled at one of the tables while she chatted nonstop in her usual effervescent way.
Other dancers mingled with men at the tables or danced at the side poles set up throughout the place, little mini shows meant to keep everyone entertained no matter where in the club they sat.
It was then, while Shadoe watched one of the dancers twirling the pole in the dark corner at the back of the club, that she spotted a familiar face. At first she thought it was someone she’d seen the night before, but it wasn’t. The face was familiar. A jog of recognition hit her immediately.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” She pulled away from Spence’s grasp and took a walk toward the back of the club, trying to appear nonchalant, stopping to smile and chat with customers along her way. She got a drink from the bartender and made her way through the crowd, staying hidden so the man wouldn’t catch sight of her.
She leaned against one of the thick black poles so she could watch. She needed to get a better view of him. It was dark in the back of the club and she didn’t have a clear view of the guy.
The man crooked his finger at the dancer on the pole. The dancer—Shadoe didn’t know her—stepped off the stage and toward him. With his focus entirely on the raven-haired Amazon straddling his hips, Shadoe stepped out from behind the pole and moved in closer, trying to blend in so she wouldn’t be noticed.
He held on to the stripper’s h*ps as she ground against his crotch, his head turned down to stare at her ass.
Come on. Look up. She needed to be sure.
When the dancer turned around so she could shake her boobs in the guy’s face, he finally lifted his head. Grinned.
And then Shadoe was certain.
That man was a federal agent: one Jerry DeLaud from Washington, D.C.
FOURTEEN
YES! GOT HIM. THE DEPARTMENT HAD TOLD HER THAT THE NATIONAL agency had no active cases in this area other than the one she’d been assigned to, so DeLaud had no business here. And she knew all the ones currently on vacation. He wasn’t one of them.
Shadoe smiled at the same time her pulse picked up.
She knew she was right. She remembered DeLaud’s agency photo from the endless files she’d studied before this mission. He currently sported a scruffy, unshaven lock, unlike his official agency photo. But it was definitely the same guy.
She had to tell Spence, but she hated leaving DeLaud. Then again, the song had another two minutes, and he’d paid for the lap dance, so it was doubtful he’d go anywhere. She took a few steps backward and rounded the corner, then hustled over to Spence.
He pulled her against him. “Where’d you go?”
She slid into his arms and put her mouth against his ear. “He’s here.”
He tensed. “Where?”
“The private room on the north side of the club. He’s occupied with a raven-haired dancer. Don’t know her name.”
He drew back far enough to search her face. “You’re sure about this guy?”
“Positive.”
He took her hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Same as last time, they took the stroll nice and easy, smiling and nodding at customers who looked her way. Spence stopped her at the pole where she’d hidden before.
DeLaud was still the only one in the private room. Spence maneuvered Shadoe against the pole and nestled in between her legs, giving the impression that he was nuzzling her neck. That should give him a clear view of what was going on in the room.
“Thin guy, midthirties, shadow of a beard, wearing white polo and jeans?”
She clutched his shoulders. “That’s him. Jerry DeLaud. He’s a D.C. agent.”
“He’s early by several days. This deal isn’t supposed to go down until at least this weekend.”
“I know.”
“Maybe he’s checking out the club to see if there are any New Orleans agents.”
“That would be my guess.”
Spence wrapped his arm around her. “You need to go on in about fifteen minutes.”
Shit. She’d forgotten all about her next set. “You’re right.”
“Go ahead. I’ll alert Pax and AJ that our target has made an appearance. We’ll keep an eye on him.”
“All right.”
He moved away, pressed a kiss to her lips, and she headed down the hallway toward the dressing area.
By the time she was ready to go on, DeLaud would be finished with his private dance. What would he do? Where would he be? From the stage, she’d be able to catch sight of him if he was still in the club.
Excitement skittered down her spine, her nerve endings tingling with the desire to spring into action. She had to force a calm she didn’t feel, remember that she had to maintain her cover.
But damn, this was thrilling.
The game was on.
SPENCE HAD TO USE THE SIGNALS HE’D SET UP FOR PAX AND AJ to get their attention. He hung out at the bar, and Pax slid in next to him and ordered a couple beers. There was so much noise since the crowd was thick it was easy for the two of them to nod at each other and carry on a low conversation.
“Target’s been acquired,” Spence said, not making eye contact with Pax.
“Who and where?”
Spence had kept tabs on DeLaud since the agent had finished up the lap dance with the stripper. DeLaud had tipped her, then grabbed his drink and moved to one of the tables next to the stage.
“Solitary at a stage table, about ten o’clock. White polo, jeans, needs a shave.”
Pax took the two beers the bartender slid his way, then turned around and leaned against the edge of the bar. “Got him.” He pushed off the bar and walked away without another word.
Spence knew Pax would fill AJ in, and they’d do their job of helping him keep an eye on their rogue agent. He wanted to know everything about this guy—who he talked to while at the club as well as where he was staying in town. That way they could put him under constant surveillance since he’d decided to show up early.
DeLaud sat at the table alone drinking his beer and watching the dancers on the stage. No one approached him and he didn’t seem to be looking for anyone.
The lights went out and Shadoe came out to do her dance. Spence took advantage of the darkness and the crowd gathering closer to the stage to move in around the side so he could get a better angle on DeLaud.
Unlike most of the guys at stage level who rushed up there hoping Shadoe’d come close so they could tuck money in her G-string, DeLaud watched calmly from his seat and drank his beer. The guy never took his gaze off the stage. He seemed to be mesmerized by Shadoe’s performance, focused on her every move. He tilted his head to the side as if he was studying her.
Spence didn’t like the way he watched Shadoe so closely, but maybe DeLaud just liked strippers. Still, there was something a little bit different in his eyes, the way they followed her across the stage. It wasn’t raw interest, the out-there kind of enjoyment most of the men got. This was something darker.
Maybe it was because Shadoe gave the guys so much attention, making eye contact throughout the crowd. She scanned her gaze over DeLaud more than a few times, too, cocking her hip to the side after she’d discarded her clothes, turning around to shake her ass, then throwing a look over her shoulder. Spence caught the way DeLaud looked at her, the pure male appreciation in his eyes.
And Shadoe played to that, making sure she held his attention.
When her dance was over and she’d changed into a body-hugging minidress that barely covered her assets, she came out and bypassed Spence, working the crowd instead. Spence lingered in the background nearby, close enough that he could intervene if necessary, but not wanting to get too close to her.
She’d made some eye contact with DeLaud. He understood what she was trying to do, so he was going to stay out of her way and wait to see what happened.
Shadoe didn’t approach DeLaud. She did what she had been doing since last night, which was make her way around the crowds, pausing to chat with guys at their tables or the ones who stopped to talk to her. Spence kept his focus between Shadoe and DeLaud.
DeLaud observed her the entire time. Another dancer had gone on stage, capturing some of the crowd’s attention, but not DeLaud’s. His hawklike gaze had zeroed in on Shadoe and stayed there. When Shadoe passed by his table, he motioned to her. She smiled, sashayed over to him, and he pulled out a chair for her.