Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I silently count to fifty, then in perfect sync, I raise my head along with the other dancers and we line up, taking a bow as applause and whistles fill the open air. I glance back into the crowd and see his eyes, still trained on me, and my stomach flips.
Close-cropped deep-sandy-colored hair, perfectly pressed brown-and-beige uniform with a silver badge glinting in the sunlight on a chest thick and wide pulling at the fabric it covers. He’s holding an extra-large coffee in one hand, sipping it as I pretend not to look, but how I wish I knew what his lips felt like sipping on me…
I’m confused, both because I’ve just never felt anything like this and second, I certainly have never felt anything like this for a person in law enforcement. In my world, they are the enemy, and both personal experience, and the stories I’ve been told since I was old enough to remember stories, tells me they are all corrupt. Trust no one outside of the family.
Cops are on the take, just as much as we are. Only, with their uniforms and badges and power, their self-service is condoned. Even accepted.
As the crowd breaks up, instruments from behind me begin to play, signaling the next part of our show. This is the time when the dancers, especially me, are meant to move into the crowd. Smiling and accepting compliments, and tips, distracting mostly the male onlookers that appear to be without female company or young children, while others in our group slip through and help themselves to wallets, money clips, phones…anything of value small enough to fit into the pouches and pockets sewn into their clothing.
The other dancers move away but I’m stuck to the dirt under my bare feet. He’s directly in front of me, exactly where I should be heading.
“What are you doing?” My mother’s voice hisses in my ear. “Get out there.”
A thick hand on my elbow and Thadius urges me forward on a grunt.
“That sheriff is looking at you. You know what to do. Go toward him, be near him…I’ll take it from there.” His baritone voice is just above a whisper and it makes me shiver.
He’s never been violent with me, but I’ve seen his violence with others in our troupe, as well as outsiders, and fear bounces through me whenever he’s this close.
“Yes, sir,” I answer, my training teaching me that any other answer will at best have me on rations again. At worst, time in the box, which for me is the worst of all punishments.
With a knot gripping my stomach, I take a step forward and the hand on my elbow tightens, making me turn toward Thadius.
“Smile,” he grits out, then releases me and a rush of heat floods my limbs.
As I work through the crowd, I pull my lips into a smile and nod and whisper thank you’s to the compliments as I move by, but my focus is in front of me.
The sheriff stands in the same spot, pinning me with his eyes.
The closer I get, the more the warmth rolling inside me takes over and a flutter between my legs adds to the intoxicating moment. I watch as he tightens his lips over his teeth, the deep set of his eyes coming clear. They are a dark green, like moss in a forest, and the muscle in his jaw is hard like he’s gritting his teeth.
There’s less than six feet left between us, and it must be clear I’m walking directly toward him. My eyes pull him in as I’ve been taught, the sway of my hips exaggerated as I set my teeth into my lower lip, adding an eyelash flutter, my training kicking in without conscious thought.
“Hey.” A voice and a hand on my upper arm jolts me from the moment as three males in their late twenties are suddenly blocking my path.
“You do private dances?” One with a Mossy Oak t-shirt and matching ball cap chuckles as his buddies laugh in encouragement, watching him taunt me with a single dollar bill. When I turn, his mouth drops open and he turns to his friends. “You see those freaky eyes?” He returns his stare laughing and running his hand under his nose. “You are a little freak aren’t you? I like ‘em freaky…”
This is not new. They barely tick my pulse up a notch.
“Well, boys.” I nod over my shoulder toward Thadius, shrugging a shoulder to my ear. “You’ll need to talk to my father about that. He books all my private engagements.”
There is shock in their eyes for a moment, then hope.
“Seriously?” The taller of the bunch with a wad of chew in his lip asks, his eyes going from me to his friends, then back. “How much you charge?”
The scent of wet tobacco and beer on his breath is strong enough to trigger my gag reflex.