“Nassir doesn’t care. He ended up here by default after the Pit burned down. He’s only here until he rebuilds his club.”
“That’s dumb. He takes care of all those girls, he invests in them. He should give them someplace they can be proud of. This still feels like it did when Novak used it as a brothel and a betting house. Nassir should put a little bit of the money those girls make him into it and turn it around.” I mean, it was always going to be a strip club, but I didn’t see why it couldn’t be a nice strip club.
Race led the way to the office and lifted his hand to knock on the door. Before his fist connected he shot me a hard look. “Remember not to trust him. Nassir has his own agenda in everything he does.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “So do you.”
“Damn straight. So does Bax, so does Booker. We all do. In fact the only person you should rely on being up front with you is Titus. He’s the only one of us that is trustworthy.”
“I do trust him.” I more than trusted him, which meant he could break me so very easily if we weren’t careful.
Race nodded just slightly, some of his blond hair flipping into his eyes. “Yeah, well, he trusts you too, which is the scary part. Don’t let him down, because that isn’t a gift lightly given.”
Ugh. Stupid, handsome genius. It was like he was looking right through my skin and seeing the guilt lurking there about still having the gun and about my own original, deceitful plot. I didn’t have to respond because Chuck pulled open the door and ushered us inside.
Nassir was sitting behind a rickety metal desk that looked like it was going to fall apart. He had a MacBook open in front of him and a glower on his sinfully handsome face. Nassir was a hard guy to read but he was making no effort to hide the fact that he was frustrated and on edge. Chuck gave me a wink, flashed his gold tooth, and leaned against the door we had just come through. It was meant to look like a casual gesture, but there was no getting out of the office without going through him, and that made me feel slightly trapped.
“Have you seen Booker since he posted bail?” Nassir’s voice was smooth and smoky but there was always a razor-fine edge that laced through it.
Race snorted and shrugged. “No, and I’m not sure why everyone seems to think it’s my job to keep tabs on him. I don’t have the guy microchipped. He can come and go as he pleases.”
Nassir’s caramel-tinted gaze switched over to me. It was hard not to flinch under the intensity of it. This guy was scary, and it had me wanting to rethink this hasty plan.
“What are you doing here?” There was only annoyance in his tone as he spoke to me.
I cleared my throat so I could speak without my voice cracking. It was never a good idea to show fear in front of a predator. “I want you to find me something to do in the club so that Conner will make a move. All this waiting is getting us nowhere and he’s escalating. I’d rather you go toe-to-toe with him than the feds, which is the next option. They pulled my deal off the table.”
Nassir didn’t say anything for a long moment. His tawny eyes shifted between me and Race and then one of his pitch-black eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “This was your idea?” He asked the question of Race.
The blond man shook his head in the negative and hitched his thumb in my direction. “All her, and she even cleared it with the cop.”
The second eyebrow winged up to joined the first on Nassir’s face. “The cop knows if the Irishman comes anywhere near me he isn’t going to walk away breathing. He would never agree to that.”
“Desperate times.” I couldn’t really explain Titus’s motivation in agreeing to this new scheme, but as long as he was supporting it, I wasn’t going to tempt fate by digging too deep.
“What exactly do you want to do? Get up onstage?” His eyes rolled over me and white flashed as he gave me a lecherous grin. “I could work with that.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at him. I refrained from elbowing Race in the ribs as he muttered, “Told ya,” out of the corner of his mouth.
“No, I don’t want to dance. I told Titus that wouldn’t be part of it. Can’t you put me behind the bar or something?” I didn’t ask about cocktail serving because even those girls had to work topless, and while I wasn’t shy, I wasn’t okay with having my lady bits within grabbing distance of drunken hands.
“There isn’t room behind the bar. And that job is murkier than getting naked onstage. The cop would have a fit if he knew you were messing around with dirty money.”