Beautiful Lawman Page 8

  “You gonna get a lap dance tonight, Hale?” Evan shouted across the table. “My treat.”

  “No, you’re the man of the hour,” he declined. “The lap dances are all yours, buddy.” He lifted his beer in salute and took a swallow. It tasted bitter going down.

  “Forget about it.” Suddenly there was a wad of money in his cousin’s hand and he was motioning to someone across the room before looking back at Hale. “You know who I’m marrying, right? Ol’ Don Webster’s daughter.” At Hale’s blank look, he added, “The guy in all the car commercials? About four hundred pounds? Looks like he’s one breath away from a heart attack?”

  “Yeah. I know him.” He’d actually brought Don in for a DUI a couple years back. He’d been weaving all over the road, a known prostitute in the front seat with him. The guy’s pants had been unzipped, so that, in addition to the alcohol, might have had something to do with his erratic driving.

  The businessman had not been happy, blustering about who he was and how his team of lawyers was going to sue the department for wrongful arrest. He vowed to have Hale’s badge.

  “Yeah, of course you do.” Evan beamed. “Well, my little bride-to-be is an only child.”

  One of the guys at the table guffawed. “Little. That’s a good one.”

  Evan did not appear to mind the insult to his fiancée. He continued. “Don’s already talking about retiring and letting me take over the dealerships.” His chest swelled. “Can you fucking believe it?”

  Last Hale knew Don Webster owned three car dealerships in the Sweet Hill area. If Evan was going to inherit that he was about to get a whole lot richer.

  Hale couldn’t help feeling a stab of disgust. There were a lot of poor people in Sweet Hill. They had a strong migrant community working the ranches and outlying areas. Too bad some of that wealth couldn’t be spread throughout the community to help others instead of all going to line the pockets of the asshole beside him.

  Hale took another swig from his beer. “Congratulations,” he muttered, his tone decidedly unimpressed, but his cousin did not appear to pick up on that.

  “So drinks and lap dances for all are on me,” Evan proclaimed. The guys at the table cheered. “And, Hale,” he said, clicking his tongue and pointing at him. “You get the first lap dance of the night. I insist. Any girl you want.”

  Hale waved off the offer and glanced at the time on his phone. Only forty minutes to go and he would take a call. Say it was an emergency and bail.

  “Hey, Evan, here comes your girl.”

  Hale looked to where Clive pointed and instantly tensed as he recognized her. Piper. So she was working tonight. And apparently she was his cousin’s girl? His stomach turned to think of that prick touching her. Was he one of her clients? And what did that even entail? Did she dance for him in the back room where private performances were conducted? How far did those performances go?

  The idea that Piper Walsh fucked his cousin made him want to lose his lunch. And following that, he wanted to punch Evan square in the nuts.

  Piper hadn’t noticed him yet. Which was just as well. He probably looked as sick as he felt. She headed their way bearing a fresh tray of pitchers, the beer sloshing dangerously close to the rims. She kept her eyes trained on the beer, careful not to lose her precious cargo.

  He took the time to assess her. He couldn’t help himself. His eyes ran over her. Up and down, then back up again.

  She looked different than the last time he saw her. No attempt to look respectable tonight. She wasn’t wearing the standard Joe’s T-shirt and jeans. No, she was wearing a dress that was little more than a scrap of black fabric. It was short, fluttering around the middle of her thighs. Too fucking short. It wouldn’t take anything for a man to slide his hands underneath and explore that sweet ass.

  And she didn’t look so young anymore either. His sister was right. Not too young. He gave himself a swift mental shake. Just because she was legal didn’t mean she was old enough for this . . . for these men. For him.

  Her dark hair was pulled up on top of her head in a pile of loose waves, accentuating the delicate line of her throat. She wore more make-up than he’d ever seen on her face. Those Disney princess eyes, already big and dark in her face, didn’t look so innocent anymore. The effect of eye shadow, liner and mascara made her look like a woman ready for bad things. She looked like a woman who would get on her knees and not worry about getting her dress dirty. Now she actually looked like a girl who worked at Joe’s. A girl that reveled in doing dirty-good things.

  Her mouth . . .

  Jesus, that mouth.

  He’d noticed those lips before, of course. Full and pouty. Always void of lipstick. Tonight they were deep crimson. Fitting. A striking contrast to the olive of her skin. The lipstick wasn’t glossy or shining. No, this red looked permanently coated on. Like it could take anything and wouldn’t smear no matter what.

  He couldn’t look away from it.

  Couldn’t stop himself from imagining what that mouth might look like wrapped around his cock, a suction of red moving up and down over his shaft, slicking him wet.

  Christ.

  He had no business thinking such a thing. Even if she wasn’t a Walsh. And wasn’t young. And wasn’t a stripper.

  And she was the opposite of everything he liked in a woman. From her looks to her personality to her background. She was difficult. He didn’t do difficult women.

  She wove with ease through tables, dodging men and more than one groping hand.

  “Damn,” Evan groaned, and sat back in his chair, his hand dropping to his crotch to adjust his dick. “I love a fucking spinner.”

  She wore a pair of strappy black heels that made her legs look endless even though he knew the top of her head didn’t reach his chin.

  “Your girl?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Thought you were getting married.”

  Clive elbowed him. “Yeah, he is, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like a taste of that one. He’s been trying to get her on her back ever since she started working here.”

  So she hadn’t slept with Evan. That bit of information simultaneously satisfied him and pissed him off. He was glad she hadn’t slept with his cousin, but he was pissed that she was even here where his cousin and his friends could salivate and manhandle her. It didn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t give a shit. She worked in a place like this. Of course guys manhandled her. It was her job. That and probably more.

  He released a breath. None of his business. She was none of his business.

  And yet as she stopped at their table and lifted her gaze to collide with his, it was hard to remember that. Those fuck-me dark eyes of hers widened as they rested on him and for a moment it was as though it were just the two of them again, exchanging words that felt like knives.

  He gave her the slightest nod of acknowledgment.

  Color stained her cheeks, and she looked away clumsily as though she didn’t know where to stare now. With a little shake of her head, she turned her focus to setting the pitchers on the table, deftly slapping Clive’s hand as it slid up her thigh. Clive chuckled and made another play, forcing her to move two steps to the side.

  Tension wrapped around his chest and he had to stop himself from grabbing Clive’s wrist and snapping it back.

  “How’s your brother, Walsh?” one of the guys asked. Laughter rang out all around the group. Of course in a group this size, someone would know Cruz Walsh.

  She set her last pitcher down and straightened. “Serving his eight to fifteen. I’ll tell him you said hello, Rawlins.”

  That brought forth more laughter. “Yeah,” Rawlins replied. “Doubtful he’ll remember me from high school. We ran in different crowds.”

  “Yeah.” Evan shook his head, his eyes brimming with mirth. “You ran in different crowds, all right, but that didn’t stop him from banging your girlfriend.”

  The table exploded in laughter.

  Piper’s expression didn’t crack as they continu
ed to make jokes about her brother. She endured it with stoicism. Like an untouchable royal, looking down her nose at the unsavory rabble. Ironic considering she worked in a place where being touchable was a requisite of the job.

  Just when he thought he had Piper Walsh figured out, he realized he didn’t know her at all. He had met her a total of four times—counting tonight—but he had naïvely thought he had her figured out. Probably like everyone else—especially these jackholes at this bachelor party. And the idea that he had anything in common with these assholes rubbed him wrong.

  He watched her as she bent to clean the mess the men had made on the three tables as the conversation carried on around them. Her bare shoulders looked sleek and smooth to the touch, the olive skin touched with a bronze hue that he doubted she got from a tanning bed. He somehow doubted she gave in to such an indulgence.

  “Sure I can’t treat you to a lap dance, cuz?” Evan asked him, his loud voice carrying over the din.

  He flicked an annoyed glance at Evan before looking back at Piper. She met his gaze for a moment before ducking her head and looking away. She gathered up the wadded balls of napkins where these assholes had spilled their beer. “Not my thing,” he finally replied.

  “Having a hot woman rub all over you?” Clive snorted. “What about that isn’t your thing? You gay?”

  He didn’t bother glancing at Clive. Simply continued to watch Piper as though she were the most fascinating thing in this place. Because she was.

  “Paying for it isn’t my thing,” he clarified even as he wondered why he bothered explaining anything to the asshole.

  “But you wouldn’t be paying for it,” Evan reminded. “I would. It’s my treat.”

  “I don’t want it.” At this point he didn’t even sound polite. Faith would be disappointed, but he didn’t care. His cousin and present company were the dregs of humanity.

  “Evan, man, you didn’t say your cousin was such a fucking Boy Scout.”

  His fingers tightened around his beer, but not from Clive’s words. No. Piper’s lips had twitched like she wanted to laugh.

  “Strippers don’t do it for me.” He looked squarely at her as the words fell on the air. It was a lie, of course. At least in reference to her. The woman definitely did it for him. Too damn much.

  Her eyes shot to his. She dropped the last wadded-up cocktail napkin on her tray and cut him a cold look before whirling away from their tables and stalking away in high fume, her glorious ass swaying with the pound of her feet. Glorious? Another word he didn’t need to think in relation to any part of her.

  “Are you serious?” a guy in a pink-on-pink plaid shirt beside Hale asked.

  “Have you seen the girl your cousin is marrying?” Clive demanded, lifting his cup to his mouth, lifting his eyebrows. “Evan is gonna be spending even more time with strippers once he’s married. Trust me.”

  Instead of being offended at the insult to his bride, Evan nodded morosely. “I’m definitely earning my father-in-law’s business marrying his little princess.”

  “Only she ain’t little!” Clive chimed, chortling like a hyena.

  Evan nodded in agreement. “Well, I always have Joe’s girls to look forward to.”

  Hale shouldn’t have looked but he couldn’t help himself. His gaze tracked Piper across the club. She was at the bar, gathering more drinks and setting them on her tray.

  “Sounds like you’re really looking forward to a promising future,” he murmured.

  “Oh, I am. I’m going to have more money than I know what to do with. I’ll send my wife on long vacations with her friends and stay back here and do whatever the fuck I want with who I want.”

  Hale looked back at his cousin, marveling that they came from the same gene pool. Evan lifted his arm and motioned for someone. Hale followed his gaze, watching as Joe himself crossed the room. The heavyset man waddled over, weaving between tables. When he reached Evan they shook hands like long lost friends, only confirming how often Evan frequented the place.

  “Congratulations,” the proprietor declared through wheezing breaths. “I hope this doesn’t mean we will be seeing you any less?”

  “Of course not. I could never give up your girls,” he declared.

  Just then Joe caught Hale’s eye. “Ah, Sheriff. We don’t get to see you nearly enough in here. Welcome, welcome.” He clapped him on the back.

  Hale nodded tightly. The only time he ever stepped foot in here was work-related. To follow up on a complaint or investigate a person of interest or suspect sighted within this establishment. Just a few times over the years. He’d long suspected Joe offered prostitution services, but he had no hard proof of that. And his department didn’t exactly have the resources to conduct a sting operation. Whether the women here offered illicit services on the side independently or it was something that ran through Joe, he didn’t know. But he wasn’t fool enough to think it wasn’t happening.

  “We’re going to need some private dances tonight, Joe. Only your best girls.”

  “Of course.” Immediately Joe started glancing around the room as though to check on the availability of his dancers.

  “Any chance Piper is free for half an hour?” Evan asked.

  Joe’s face suddenly broke into a wide smile. “As a matter of fact, she is.”

  For some reason, Evan looked startled. Like Piper Walsh giving lap dances was an unusual thing. She worked in a strip club. That’s where things like lap dances occurred.

  “Now you been coming here long enough to know that Piper is somewhat of a diva. At least in her own head.” He leaned in as though to impart something conspiratorially. “She’s been working here for over a year now. Usually I have girls broken in by then, but she’s taken a little longer to bring to heel. She’s finally coming around.”

  Hale had never wanted to hit a man so badly in his life. His hand curled into a fist under the table. The man had done nothing illegal. There was no crime in being a despicable person. Sadly, society tolerated and even celebrated men like him. Hell, more times than not they even got elected to office.

  Sweet Hill was like any other place. It had its fair share of corruption. Hale worked hard to keep his department clean and uphold his office with integrity, but right now he was tempted to throw all that away and commit assault.

  “So I can have her?” Evan asked, his tone anxious, eyes somewhat glassy at the prospect.

  Hale flinched at the words. Have her. Like she was a piece of property. He’d seen bad things as sheriff. Sweet Hill might not be the murder capital of the world, and the majority of their calls might come from old Mrs. Ryan about the raccoons in her attic, but ugly things happened here, too. He shouldn’t be so offended. Joe’s and Evan’s words were hardly the worst thing he’d ever heard and yet everything inside him rebelled at the idea of Piper dancing for the likes of his cousin.

  And would it end at a dance?

  The image of his cousin’s pale, soft hands touching Piper, fondling her and groping her because he paid for that right, was all kinds of messed up. Evan with his fancy car and nice clothes and fat house in Sweet Hill’s single upscale gated community wasn’t fit to touch her.

  That thought made him sit up a little straighter. He had been telling himself he didn’t have an unhealthy interest in Piper. That looking out for members of this community was his job. It’s what he did. But maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

  Let’s face it. She was a mess. She needed someone to look out for her, and if that someone happened to be him, wasn’t it okay? He put on this badge to protect and serve, after all.

  He almost laughed out loud at his logic. He was attempting to justify his interest in her.

  Joe nodded. “Sure, sure. Just let me go and send her to the room. You go on in there whenever you’re ready.” Turning, he left to fetch her.

  Evan took his glass of Scotch and downed it. Slapping the glass back down on the table, he rubbed his hands together in a self-satisfied manner. “This bachelor party is
definitely the best part of getting married, gentlemen. Gonna go get a piece of—”

  “I’ll go,” Hale suddenly declared. “I’ll take that lap dance.”

  His voice sounded disembodied even to his ears. Like it was coming from somewhere else faraway . . . from someone else. He was no saint, by any means. But no part of himself as a man, as a lawman, could have conceived of a moment where he would pay a woman to dance naked and rub up on him.

  Maybe it was wrapped up more in his ego than morals for him. He knew women liked his face and body. He didn’t need to pay for it. But no way in hell could he sit here while his cousin paid for it. While his cousin paid her for it. Fuck that.

  Everyone looked at him with startled expressions, almost as though they had forgotten his presence among them. And why not? He was hardly participating. He wasn’t thrusting money at any of the women on the stage or circling their tables. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in having a lap dance.

  Evan shook his head, his mouth working.

  “You said I could have a lap dance. Your treat. Any girl I want,” Hale reminded him, keeping his voice casual and revealing none of his tension. He shrugged like it was no big deal. Like he wasn’t trying to save Piper from his cousin.

  “Y-yeah,” Evan hedged, glancing toward the back of the club. “Sure. You can take it.”

  “Thanks.” Standing, he headed to the back room to wait for Piper Walsh.

  Eleven

  Piper worked with determined focus all night, falling into her old waitress routine and delivering drink order after drink order. Her changed appearance didn’t go without notice. The tips were better. There were roaming hands and pinches, wherever they could reach. Requests came for private dances. She shook her head when Marty approached her with the requests, not ready even though she knew she needed to be. She was going to have to say yes eventually. And eventually needed to come tonight.