Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel by Jamie Schmidt (the reading list .TXT) 📗

“Are you a stalker or a reporter?”

“Neither.” She tried to peer around me again.

“Weren’t you looking for me?” I growled, blocking her line of sight.

“Oh,” she said, visibly shaking herself. “Yes. I was. That is, if you’re Miles Carvello?” I saw her look at my tattoos. “Of course you are. The doorman said you might have a moment for me.”

I glared up at Highway, who was grinning at me from the door. He knew I liked sassy blondes. “Depends. Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Jackie Mitchell. I’m here to find my sister, Lisa.”

“Feel free to look around,” I said, reluctantly stepping aside.

“I will, but I was wondering if you could tell me if she’s taking a shift tonight.”

I gawked at her for a moment. “Your sister’s a dancer?”

Jackie bit her lip and my eyes riveted on her full mouth before I forced myself to look back into her pretty green eyes. I had to concentrate on what she was saying instead of being distracted by her. On any other night, I’d take her into my office and we’d talk over drinks. If I was lucky, drinks would turn to dinner and other intimate matters and then breakfast. But lately with the fights and Ginny selling drugs out of my club, I was ready to crawl out of my skin. I had a bad feeling there was something going on here and whoever was behind it was just waiting for me to drop my guard before dumping the real shit all over Dalton’s.

She handed me a picture and, for the life of me, I couldn’t place her sister. I slowly shook my head. “Her face doesn’t ring a bell. Do you have a body shot of her?” That was probably the wrong thing to say, because Jackie looked stunned but then she recovered.

“I can access her portfolio from my phone. Do you have Wi-Fi?”

“What kind of exotic dancer has a portfolio?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“One that used to dance on Broadway,” Jackie said tartly.

That was familiar. “Broadway. That was her stage name. Yeah, now I remember.”

Jackie’s shoulders eased in relief. “Is she here?”

“Broadway? No, she quit after a week. She danced a few times and then never showed up to work again.”

“When was that?”

I blew out a sigh and stared out at the stage, not seeing the current dancer while I tried to remember the last time Broadway had worked. “I don’t know. About a month ago, maybe less.”

The nibbling on her lower lip began again and I was again transfixed. What was it about this chick and her mouth?

“Can you give me her home address?”

“I’m going to need some proof that you are who you say you are, and a damn good reason why I should violate your sister’s privacy before I do that.”

“Can we talk in private?” Jackie put her hand on my arm.

Pure lust flooded me, and I was surprised by the force of it. I’ve had full lap dances with tits in my face that didn’t get me as hard as her full pink lips and the light touch on my skin just had.

“Come with me.” Because my dick seemed to be in charge of my brains, I led her into a VIP booth instead of my office.

Chapter Four

Jackie Mitchell

“Do I have to pay you a hundred bucks and buy a two-drink minimum?” I followed him to a room with a stripper pole and a couch. The space was small and he filled it up. Try not to make a fool of yourself and drool all over him. But every hormone I had woke up and screamed, “Hell yeah!” each time his eyes met mine.

“Depends,” he drawled, swinging a circle around the pole with more grace than a man of his bulk should have been able to do. “Do you want me to dance?”

The answer should have been no. I was here for my sister. But this was Vegas, right? I was also here to have a good time. And Miles Carvello looked like Good Time was his middle name. After all, I’d missed Chance Bateman gyrating in his boxers. I deserved a little eye candy. I was taking too long to answer and Miles’s dark brown eyes got even darker. If he pulled off his shirt, I was a goner. Swallowing hard, I tried to take my eyes off his muscles and the outline of tattoos peeking over his tight white T-shirt. I had a thing for tough guys, what could I say?

Focus, Jackie. Business first. Pleasure hopefully later.

“Do you want to see my ID?” I asked as he took a step closer to me.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “You’re not twenty-one?”

“Thanks for that. I meant to convince you I’m legit so you can give me Lisa’s information.” I fumbled in my purse for my driver’s license and business card.

“Lisa who? Oh, right. Broadway.”

My head was spinning. Why would Lisa leave a career in New York to dance in a second-rate club for dollar bills stuffed into her underwear? I knew she had medical bills, but she was on a payment plan. “Do exotic dancers make a lot of money?” I sat down on the couch, sinking into it slightly. It was surprisingly comfortable. I wanted to kick off my sandals and relax. The rum and Coke I’d had at the Spearmint Rhino mellowed me out more than I had expected.

“Depends,” Miles drawled.

“On what?”

“How good of a salesperson they are.” Instead of joining me on the couch, Miles pulled up a chair. Turning it backwards, he straddled the seat and folded his arms on top.

That was not the answer I was expecting. He must have sensed my confusion because he elaborated.

“My best dancer was a Harvard MBA.”

“Oh, come on,” I scoffed.

“I find the nice, quiet college girls are the wildest.” His grin was full of sin and his knowing once-over made me wonder if he had been in