Read Online Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore by Kaitlin Maitland - Free Book Online Page B

telltale motion by turning his back. “Business is business, and I need to get back to mine.”
     
    SOME OF SURI’S confidence left with Dante when he disappeared from Jericho’s side. She shouldn’t have cared. Jericho had already made his interest clear, and one guy should’ve been enough. Especially when he looked like Jericho Davies.
    So why did it feel as if Dante had just thrown her to the wolves? Why did she feel so stung by his dismissal?
    “Touch yourself, honey.” Flaherty wasn’t done dictating this little show. Suri chewed the inside of her cheek and wondered if she was about to make a huge mistake. Holding out one hand, she made the universal gesture for “show me the money.”
    Thankfully, Flaherty laughed loudly, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Business first, hmm?” He drew a wad of bills from the pocket of his jacket.
    Without a top, there was nowhere but her skirt for him to put the money. Trying not to show her distaste, Suri offered him a spot on her hip. Flaherty made a big show of stuffing four fifty-dollar bills into the waistband of her skirt. His fingers splayed against her belly and dipped deliberately close to her pubic hair.
    “Are you wet for me, honey?” Flaherty’s nostrils flared, pupils dilating. “You want my fingers in your cunt, don’t you?”
    Panic demanded she jam her foot in his crotch and run like hell, but she’d learned early that wasn’t very good for business. She decided to play the coquette instead, backing out of his reach and dancing as he’d originally asked.
    Distraction usually worked for overeager customers, but she was used to the stages where violating club rules meant you got thrown out. Flaherty didn’t play by the rules. He made them up as he went along.
    “Not so fast, honey.” He grabbed her by the hips. “I want what I paid for.”
    “I’m a dancer. Not a whore.”
    In two seconds flat, she was pressed up against the lip of the fountain with Flaherty’s fingers trying to probe her slit from behind. She struggled, a balloon of terror swelling inside her chest as she tried to scream. It was like pushing against a brick wall. His sour scent overwhelmed her senses, his clammy hands groping her ass and trying to pry her legs apart.
    “What the fuck?” Flaherty leaped away so quickly that Suri tumbled to the floor.
    Rolling to her knees and snatching up the tiny velvet drawstring bag that held her night’s take, she glimpsed Jericho in the middle of the room with all three of Flaherty’s bodyguards. One beefy guy was already prone on the floor. Jericho had the second guy’s neck locked beneath his arm as he circled slowly, eye to eye with the third as if waiting for him to make one wrong move.
    “Stand down, Jericho!” Flaherty’s indignant tone hinted that he knew he’d lost control of the situation.
    The demand had no effect on Jericho. When the last guard lunged, Jericho used the one he held captive like a battering ram. The two guards smashed together with a sickening crunch. Groaning, they flopped to the floor to join their comrade.
    “Are you all right?” Jericho held out his hand, and Suri took it, allowing him to pull her upright. He jerked his head at the other three Asylum dancers. “Let’s go. Now.”
    They rushed out, leaving Jericho to bring up the rear with Suri tucked beneath his arm. She was glad he hadn’t let go. At this point, she would be lucky to stand upright, much less walk.
    He took three strides to an access door opposite the suite entrance and swiped his keycard to open it. “All of you inside. Now.”
    The other three dancers huddled together, wide-eyed. The corridor was a stairwell of sorts, its bare brick walls a harsh contrast to the soft lighting and dreamy atmosphere inside the club proper.
    Suri stumbled, her legs like jelly. She couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened had Jericho not given Terrence the night off and taken his place. Would Terrence have been able to stop