He flashed her a wicked grin. “So you’re telling me that unlike most women, you actually say what you mean? I knew there was something special about you.”
The approach of a well-dressed, paunchy older man cut off her retaliating comeback. His overly wide smile refracted the colored strobe lights, making him look like a rotund, moldy-toothed troll as he introduced himself as the club’s manager. Two seconds later, he led them toward the VIP section of El Sótano.
Rafe’s hand caressed the bare patch of skin just above the curve of her behind. A few appreciative leers slid her way, but most of the male patrons were focused on their escorts—most women, but there were a few men intermixed into the group. Sharply angled collarbones and sunken cheeks seemed to describe the majority of them. Their emaciated bodies danced robotically to the music, but it was their eyes—empty and blank—that twisted Penny’s insides in a slow roll of revulsion.
What if Rachel was just like them? Just as hollow. Just as sickeningly obedient. On Penny’s left, a brunette knelt on hands and knees and pleaded with the man in front of her, no doubt for whatever drug was running low in her system.
A mental image of Rachel being subjected to the same treatment made Penny stumble.
“Easy, Red.” Rafe caught her and kept their feet moving.
“Rafe. We’ve got to do something.”
“We’re doing this for them, too, sweetheart. Just keep moving.”
Two armed guards stood vigilant outside the cordoned-off section of the club. Neither spared them a second glance as the manager ushered Rafe and Penny into the VIP room. By the time the heavy, velvet curtains fell back into place behind them, Penny fought to control the drop of her jaw. The sexual proclivities of the partygoers out front had nothing on the men and women in here.
Tucked in the far-back corner of the room, a large, opulent bed was shielded—only partially—by sheer harem-like curtains. It did nothing to hide the fact that the bed was occupied by more than one couple. And on a plush couch a bit closer to where she and Rafe stood, two women were facedown in one male patron’s lap, taking turns in a sexual act she was glad she couldn’t actually see.
This time, Penny didn’t flinch—or gawk. She lifted her chin and reminded herself, This is for them all.
*
Rafe clocked five seconds in the private room until they snagged the attention of the first curious set of eyes. He trailed his hand up Penny’s back and savored the coinciding quiver of her body as she turned toward him.
She wasn’t the strongest, or the most qualified, but she wanted this impromptu mission to succeed the most. Watching her go head-to-chin with Trey when he’d dared to attempt to put a stop to it had been a beautiful thing. Entertaining as well as enlightening.
The woman didn’t intimidate easily.
With a forced smile in place, she slid a hand up his chest and around his neck. Her lips brushed against his ear, making his heart somersault. “We should probably get ourselves into a better position, someplace that will give us a three-sixty view without it being obvious.”
He inwardly groaned when her gaze slid toward the dance floor. Talk about throwing a starving man into the short line of a buffet. But he let her take the lead, their fingers threaded together as she dragged him to the middle of the dance room.
He couldn’t help but enjoy the exquisite view. A couple days’ rest and ibuprofen sure did her body good. Her firm ass swayed gracefully in front of him, a sweet though painful reminder of what she admitted earlier wasn’t beneath the killer dress. He mentally chanted Do not touch, but when it came to Penny and all the things he should and shouldn’t do, he was deaf.
And technically, it was his job to touch, something of which she reminded him the instant she stepped flush against his body. This time when he brought his hand over the flare of her hip, she wasn’t the only one who shivered.
Rafe had been with his fair share of women through the years. He wasn’t a monk and they smelled too damn good to avoid forever. But any involvement remained casual and easy, and he made sure that fact was known right from the beginning.
Sometimes, the woman got it. Other times, she didn’t. Always, he broke things off before emotions complicated things—and he’d never once been tempted to see how things went, because in his experience being shipped from foster home to foster home, the more you hoped things worked out, the increased chance there was for disappointment.
What Penny conjured in him with a faint touch was new. It was distracting and dangerous. A lot banked on him keeping his head on straight, something that had no chance in hell of happening when he slid his hand over her hips and pulled her close.
“What’s wrong?” Penny’s soft question kicked him out of his erection-induced stupor.