Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(53)

“This is my good friend Mason. Mason, this is Mercy.”

She reaches out with a giggle. After a somewhat awkward-looking handshake, he mumbles something about photocopies and then bolts from my office.

I stand and round my desk to scoop the tiny blond stripper into a big hug, the smell of her flowery perfume—almost too strong—attacking my nose. “Hey, babe.” I’ve never had any interest in her as more than a friend, with a few occasional benefits that we kept very discreet and far from Penny’s. I do respect Cain and his rules . . . to a degree. And, if I thought she’d ever want more from me, I never would have let it happen.

But I’m starting to worry that something has changed.

I’m getting texts from Mercy almost daily now, asking me to come visit her at the club.

Her big blue eyes appraise my office, the endless stack of paperwork. And me, her gaze drifting over my chest as her fingers toy with my shirt collar. “You look all grown up.” She’s wearing more than I’m used to seeing her in but there’s really no hiding what she does for a living in that short, tight dress. Her enhanced curves, her face, the way she carries herself . . . it all screams, “I get naked for money.”

And, by the multitude of glances into my office, everyone in the building can hear those screams. Based on what Mason told me of Jack’s worries about my past workplace transgressions, bringing this into the office probably won’t look good on me. Still, I can’t kick her out. I can only hope she leaves soon.

“I’m trying to be, anyway. What are you doing here?”

A cute little giggle escapes. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Penny’s just isn’t the same without you.” A delicate hand runs across my chest and then descends quickly, nails dragging along my stomach until her fingers find my belt. Mercy has always been a tease like that. She likes knowing that she can get an instant reaction out of me.

“Come here.” I use the excuse of pushing my door shut to step away before her hand drifts even farther down. Leading her to the spare chair, I then dive into mine, letting the desk act as a barrier between the two of us.

“I thought you were coming to visit me at Penny’s on the weekend,” she says with a small pout.

“I was stuck here all weekend.” Honestly, between work and Reese, I didn’t even think about Penny’s. I was exhausted on Saturday night. I can’t believe I haven’t stepped foot in the club in over three weeks. It’s a record for me.

“It’s not fun over there right now.” Her smile falters. “I don’t know what happened, Ben. Charlie disappeared, China got fired . . .” Her face pinches up. “I’ve never seen Cain so miserable.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what’s going on either.” That’s a lie. I know more than most, seeing as one of my best friends and the head bouncer at Penny’s, Nate, called me last week to fill me in. It seems that Cain, my good friend and the owner of Penny’s, fell in love with a stripper who has more secrets than he was able to dig up through his clandestine methods that I’m not supposed to know about. She took off in the night and now he’s a wreck. I’ve never seen Cain anything but cool and composed.

With a sigh, Mercy uncrosses and crosses her long bare legs, distracting me completely with a momentary glimpse of black lace panties. At least she wore them today. That’s never a guarantee. Fuck, it’s also been over three weeks since I got laid. That’s another unnaturally long span of time for me. And now I’m sitting across from a girl who actually enjoys giving private lap dances. I don’t know how the hell an Amish community produced the likes of her. Clearly, I need to go visit one of those places to see if she’s just a freak occurrence.

After another ten minutes of polite conversation, Mercy abruptly stands. “Well, I should let you get back to work. I just wanted to see you in your office.” She bends down and lays a semi-inappropriate kiss right on my lips. “Dinner later?”

Is dinner code for sex? We’ve never gone out for meals. With a long, drawn-out sigh and a visual dip down her low-cut dress, I say, “Yeah, I’ll see if I can get out early tonight.” I can’t help it. Mercy offers no frustrations.

It isn’t until she steps away that I notice Reese standing in my doorway, holding at least a dozen yellow folders tight to her chest, a sardonic expression on her face as she eyes my company.

Turning toward the door, Mercy offers Reese a stiff smile—Mercy may be sweet but she’s no idiot; she can read the edge of judgment in Reese’s sharp, caramel eyes—and then strolls out, humming softly.

Reese saunters into my office to unceremoniously drop the folders on my lap. I’m pretty sure she was aiming to crush my dick with them. “So are you dating that Twinkie? Because after bringing me home to meet your mother, I was so sure you were in love with me.” She sounds so disinterested that I know I don’t have to worry about her actually believing that.

I bite my tongue as I decide how to respond. Answering Reese is sometimes tricky. I actually care if I come off sounding like a moron, and I don’t normally care about that. I finally settle on, “You’re safe, I promise.” I remove the files from my lap and drop them onto my desk. “So what’d you find?”

“I’ve posted some notes of things you’ll want to follow up on and some cases for precedence-setting when the law bot takes this to court. I’ve also solved the Kensington case for you. You’re welcome.”