It was a Wednesday night, but you wouldn’t know it. The chairs edging the stage were full. Construction workers and suits alike were salivating over the dancer dressed like Little Red Riding Hood. All that remained of her costume was the red cape and basket she swung provocatively as she strutted down the stage in a pair of fuck-me red stilettos.
He hadn’t noticed her before, but her eyes zeroed in on him standing at the edge of men circling the stage. Her hands swept over her belly and up to fondle her breasts, her eyes all the while fixed on him.
“North!”
He turned at the sound of his name. Piper rushed forward, balancing a tray of drinks with one hand. She stood on her tiptoes to hug him. Even in her high heels, she was a tiny thing. Nothing like her big bruiser of a brother.
“How are you?” she asked.
He nodded. “Good.”
“Haven’t seen you in a while.” She looked up at him with a sunny smile. “Not that I blame you. You could do a lot better than hang around this place.” She shot a glance around with a sniff.
Her reminder stabbed at him. He hadn’t been in Joe’s in a while. When he first got out of prison, not a week passed that he didn’t pop in to check on her—and threaten any bastard that looked at her wrong or got too handsy.
She’d resented his presence at first, insisting she didn’t need looking after, insisting it was going to cut into her tips, but she soon realized that his glaring persona contributed to even better tips. She stopped complaining at that point. She needed the money too badly. For herself and her sister.
“Been working a lot.”
“Mm-hm.” She propped a hand on her hip. “Serena loves to share that she sees you plenty outside these walls. Makes the other girls jealous.”
“I see her occasionally,” he allowed with a shrug.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded at the table closest to him. “You staying for a bit? Want me to get you a drink? The usual?”
“Sure.” He nodded.
“Serena’s not on tonight, but Little Red Riding Hood is totally giving you the eye.”
He sent the dancer a quick glance. “I came here to check on you. I didn’t come for that.”
She shook her head with a chuckle. “No, you never come here for that, but funny how you always seem to find it.”
Still laughing, she walked away, weaving between tables. He glanced back to the stage. Red was definitely giving him a solid fuck-me stare, and not just because it was part of her job. He knew that look and he knew the real thing. This was the real thing.
Piper returned soon with his beer. “Place is pretty busy tonight or I’d stay and chat.”
He lifted the beer in salute. “I understand. How’s your sister?”
“Good. Doing great in school. On a soccer team now.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he imagined Piper’s fourteen-year-old sister tearing up the soccer field. Like Piper, she was a little thing, but also like Piper, she had spunk. “Glad to hear that. Cruz must love that.”
Her smile dimmed a little as she said with a little less conviction, “You know it.”
“Piper!” The bartender shouted her name and pointed a table waving for a waitress.
“Gotta go. You should text me and come by for dinner.”
He nodded. “Will do.” Except he wouldn’t. Rare were the occasions he ate dinner with the Walsh sisters. It was just like when he took dinner with Knox and Briar. Sitting at a table, sharing stories, acting civilized, laughing . . . it wasn’t easy for him.
The blonde finished her dance as the music ended. A new song kicked on. She exited the stage, but not before sending him another smile over her shoulder, this one full of promise. Settling back in his chair, he watched Piper work, making sure no one got too fresh with her. Several of the customers felt his stare and sent him wary glances, probably assuming that Piper belonged to him. He let them think that. Their relationship wasn’t anyone’s business. She was Cruz’s sister. That made her like a sister to him, too. Almost like Katie.
At the thought of his cousin everything went cold inside him. The twisting mass in his chest pushed harder, making his lungs constrict, air difficult to draw in and out. His grip tightened around his beer bottle.
“Hey, there.” Little Red Riding Hood dropped down in the chair opposite of him, bringing with her a sour waft of nicotine. “I get off in an hour.”
His fingers lifted and flexed around the sweating glass of his bottle and he deliberately chose not to think about how kissing her would taste like an ashtray. He wasn’t particular. He wasn’t looking for anything—anyone—permanent. “Ten.”
“Ten?” She cocked her bleached blond head to the side as though she wasn’t familiar with the number.
He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on the table. “I’m leaving this place in ten minutes.” He lifted his beer and gave it a little slosh side to side. “The time it takes to finish this beer. Either you leave with me.” He shrugged. “Or you don’t.”
She stared at him, a slow smile curving her lips. “I’ll go get my things. I suddenly think you’re worth any dock in pay I get.”
She hurried from the table. He watched her go. His only concern was in lightening that pressure in his chest so that he could breathe easier again.