The club went black, Smithie stumbled off and Lottie and I dashed on.
In the dark, the opening riffs of Nickelback’s “Something in Your Mouth” hit the space. The rest of the band kicked in, the bright lights hit the stage and Lottie and I hit each other.
It was an ingenious plan. No man in that room would look anywhere but at Lottie and I as we double teamed. Squatting down and sliding up each other’s bodies. Smacking each other’s asses. Circling a pole low while the other went high. Flicking each other’s hair. Kicking a leg over the other who was in a squat. Both of us swinging our asses out to the audience in tandem.
And frequently, we sucked on our thumbs.
And each other’s.
If this wasn’t part of a mission, I would have giggled my ass off through the whole thing. It was a blast. Absolutely. And the light in Lottie’s eyes told me she felt the same.
We were both down to sequined bras and panties and platform stripper shoes when we broke off. Lottie caught attention by catching the pole high, swinging out, rolling off and hitting her hands and knees, crawling on the stage with back arched, ass high, lips parted, hair in her face.
She was the total shit.
I jumped off the stage and it was during one of the rapid-fire rap parts of the song so I could make some moves on a couple men on my way to my target.
And as the song broke down, I did a lot of gyrating, hair whipping, slow walking, dipping my ass into laps only to pull away before flesh hit flesh, and shimmying.
I found my way in front of Gibbons just as the song kicked it up again.
I looked into his eyes.
He was looking at my breasts.
Fuck yeah.
It didn’t matter my last name was Nightingale. It didn’t matter that I might be a threat.
I had tits.
And that meant I had him, the asshole.
I leaned down, putting my hands to his knees and whipping my head around. I turned around and gave him a personal, long drawn out ass sway when Chad Kroeger did the kickass drawn out “everyone.”
I flipped around and mounted his lap.
His hands immediately went to my hips.
I barely controlled a lip curl at his touch and I moved on him. I put my hands on his shoulders, pulsing my hips under his hands, whipping my hair in his face, catching his eyes to see his at my crotch.
Yeah.
I had him.
So I took him.
Reaching in his jacket, I went right for his gun.
His fingers on my hips bit in and his eyes shot from my crotch to my face.
I felt for the snap, flipped it and yanked his gun out just as I jumped off his lap, his hands sliding clean free since I was oiled up (and good).
I got three feet back and pointed the gun in his face.
The music stopped and the lights went up. There was some clapping, but everyone around Gibbons and me had seen the dance change and were shuffling away, seeing as there was a stripper with a gun.
Gibbons stared into my eyes, and I knew he was about to go for me right when he was out of his chair and being slammed face first into the floor by Mace.
Luke came to me and took the gun out of my hand.
“I need to find a way to erase the last three minutes,” he muttered, sounding aggrieved.
“Why?” I asked.
“I just watched my boy’s sister strip. There’s laws against that,” he replied, not taking his eyes off Mace who was cuffing a non-struggling Gibbons, but I had a feeling what Luke was doing was studiously avoiding seeing me in sequined undies and stripper shoes.
“No there’s not,” I said to Luke and he finally looked at me.
“Babe, there are. Trust me,” he stated.
At his tone, I trusted him. Then again, he was a guy. What did I know what rules guys lived by?
Luke moved in to help Mace jerk Gibbons to his feet. They didn’t go cautiously and his head snapped around, and not a little.
A lot.
I fought a smirk.
“What’s goin’ on? What the fuck is goin’ on?” Smithie shouted, elbowing his way in.
“Don’t know how I took him down, seein’ as I’ve gone blind,” Mace stated, ignoring Smithie.
“I hear you, man,” Luke agreed.
“What the fuck is goin’ on?” Smithie yelled.
That was when Lee appeared.
My brother. He didn’t let me know, but he was also taking my back.
I was feeling slightly gushy and very jazzed when Lee said, “Cruiser’s outside. Haul him out. Smithie, you come with me.”
“You gonna tell me what he fuck is goin’ on?” Smithie asked.
“Yes,” Lee answered.
Smithie glared at him. Then he glared at me.
I tipped my head to the side and gave him a scrunchy face.
Lee either didn’t see Smithie’s glare or didn’t care. His eyes went beyond Smithie and he ordered, “Clear this place out.”
I looked that way just in time to see Lenny saying, “Gotcha.”
Lenny moved out and I looked at Gibbons.
He didn’t look upset.
He looked smug.