He didn’t get defensive. He also didn’t get nervous. Dom did, though—this guy wasn’t stupid. He knew what night Dom was talking about, and if he knew who and what Dom was at a glance, then he know he was in a dangerous spot. But he held his gaze like Dom couldn’t have intimidated him if he’d wanted to. No fear whatsoever. Just icy indifference.
The stripper sighed with theatrical boredom. “What happened that night? I rubbed my ass all over a couple of dicks. Some Italian guy showed up in the alley with blood all over his fancy suit. And I rubbed my ass over some more dicks.” Another shrug as he brought his water bottle up to his lips. “Isn’t much else to tell.”
“I doubt that.”
“That’s all you’ll get from me.”
Dom sighed. “Look, I’m not leaving until we talk.”
The stripper lowered his water bottle and narrowed his eyes. “First, we are talking. Second, I’ll see your cocky attitude and raise you several bouncers who take shit from no one.” He gave Dom a derisive down-up. “Especially not your kind.”
Dom was probably the mellowest guy in his entire family, and even he was struggling not to strangle this jackass. “I need to know what you saw.”
“You know as much as you’re going to know.”
“You can tell me or you can tell the cops.”
The stripper laughed. “A Mafioso talking to the cops. Does your uncle know that you—”
“Enough,” Dom growled. “All I’m asking for is a few minutes and some information. And then you can get back to more”—he nodded toward the stages—“lucrative pursuits.”
The kid glanced at the stages, and then rolled his eyes and slammed his water bottle down. “All right. But we’re making this quick.”
He didn’t wait for a response and started walking. He led Dom down a dark hallway and out into the back alley. It was another hot, sticky night, the breeze off the ocean doing nothing to counter the lingering heat from the California sun.
Dom peeled off his jacket and draped it over his arm. “You got a name?”
The stripper snorted. “Small talk? Really?”
Dom shrugged. “Seems like introductions are a customary way to start a conversation.”
“A polite conversation, sure.” He folded his arms tightly across his bare chest. “Those rules don’t apply to this one.”
Dom blinked. This kid was something else. He didn’t show even a hint of that subtle wariness that Dom’s kind had cultivated in the population at large.
And damn it, that should have annoyed the shit out of Dom. While he didn’t particularly like the way people cowered or moved to the other side of the street when they saw men from the families, sometimes it did make these “I need some information” conversations a hell of a lot shorter.
But this kid intrigued him too. He wasn’t afraid of Dom, and he didn’t seem na?ve about it. This wasn’t some idiot who couldn’t see far enough past his own bravado to realize he was talking to someone dangerous. He didn’t strike him as someone who’d panic if Dom tipped his hitman hand and let him know exactly what he was dealing with. No, he looked Dom straight in the eye, cool and collected, and silently dared him to make him blink.
Dom swallowed. He hadn’t hallucinated that night, had he? This stripper really had shot Floresta and Mandanici before taking him to—
“Come on.” The stripper released an impatient breath and cocked his hips sharply. “We going to stand out here, or was there something you wanted to talk about?”
Dom cleared his throat. “I just want to ask you about the night we met.”
“Fine. But let’s get one thing clear right away.” He nodded sharply at the door. “Every five minutes I’m out here is a dance I’m not doing, and every fifteen is a private dance. You already owe me three grand, and every five minutes costs you another two hundred. Fifteen costs a grand. Got it?”
Dom had to admit, he admired his fearlessness. He pulled his billfold from his pocket and withdrew some cash. “How about this.” He held up the money as he put his wallet away. “We talk, I give you two grand.”
The stripper’s eyes darted toward the folded bills.
And in a split second, the money was gone.
Dom blinked, glancing at his empty hand, and then at the stripper as he inspected the money he now held. How the—
“Fine.” The stripper tucked the cash into his waistband. “What do you want to know?”
How you moved that fast, for one thing.
Dom pushed his shoulders back. “I want to know what happened.”
The kid laughed. “You had your ass kicked by two idiots.”
“And you showed up, and the next thing I know, I’m on a bench and you’re gone.”
“Yeah?” A slender shoulder lifted in a sharp half-shrug. “What did you expect me to do? Hold your hand until the medics showed up?”
“I didn’t expect you to do anything. But you did something.” Dom tilted his head. “And I want to know what, especially after both men were found in the back of a car with .22 rounds in their foreheads.”
No flinch. No surprise.
“Two fewer wise guys to fuck up this town? What a loss.” He smirked. “No offense.”
“Mmhmm.”
He held Dom’s gaze without flinching. “I don’t understand why you’re here. We both know what happened.”