Four Seconds to Lose (Ten Tiny Breaths, #3)(64)
I was careful to watch for tails on my way to work, and again, when I climbed into Cain’s Nav. But now, we’re far away from the noise of the club, the hustle of Miami’s streets, and for the first time all day, I feel safe. Sheltered.
A rare, broad smile on Cain’s face tells me that he’s pleased. “It’s one of my favorite restaurants. I live just over there.” His index finger points out one of the tall luxury condominium buildings on the water. It doesn’t surprise me. Cain has “downtown bachelor” written all over him. He adds as an afterthought, “I haven’t been here in a while.”
“What does that tell you?” I mutter dryly.
His head dips once in assent. “Yes, I know. I need a life. Storm and Nate keep reminding me.” A light chuckle escapes his lips.
It acts as a sedative for me, warmth and relaxation creeping into my limbs. The waitress arrives with a bottle of wine and we say nothing, silently stealing glances at each other as she fills our glasses with cabernet, the soft buzz of conversation and music floating around us.
When the waitress leaves with our order, Cain finally speaks up, his voice calm. “You scared me tonight.”
I feel my cheeks burning. Now that the shock has worn off, I’m more embarrassed than anything. “I don’t do that often.” I’ve actually never passed out before but I don’t want Cain to know that, so I make sure my hand is steady as I take a sip of my wine. He watches me do so quietly, leaning back in his chair in a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top and looking casual yet tailored. His dark hair, normally styled tidily, is slightly unkempt now, and there’s the slightest five o’clock shadow across his jaw.
He’s a kind of handsome I’ve never seen in real life. I can’t believe I’ve been stripping for him nightly on a stage. And he’s been watching me. And he kissed me last night with a kind of reckless abandon I didn’t know possible. And now I’m sitting across from him at a table. And I’m desperate to go home with him tonight.
The Cain I’ve been using as a prop onstage all these weeks is an emotionless man who wants nothing more than sex. He’s aggressive and demanding and walks away when he’s gotten his fill. Aside from a lustful crush, it’s difficult to picture myself forming an attachment to a man like that.
But the Cain I experienced last night is nothing like that prop. That Cain is passionate and gentle and, I’m afraid, has the ability to consume me.
That’s a treacherous position to be in, for a girl who is running.
Tomorrow.
“Charlie?” He leans forward to plead softly, “Am I forgiven?”
I don’t blame him for investigating his employees. But still, not many people go to that level of trouble. “Why not just a simple background check?”
A hand slides up to his neck, to that tattoo, rubbing it slowly as his eyes drift over the crowd. “I know the kind of world I live in, in this industry. I do a lot of things to protect myself.”
I hesitate. And then I remind myself that tonight is my only night with Cain. “Why do you do what you do? I mean the club . . . the apartment building . . .”
His face crinkles into a quick smile and then relaxes into a look of contemplation. As he takes a sip of his wine, I suspect he’s collecting his thoughts. Deciding what he wants to admit to. “Over the years, I’ve had to arrange for a lot of apartments for the dancers. Abusive boyfriends . . . infested complexes . . . ,” he gestures at me, “dangerous neighbors. It made sense to buy a building so I had a safe place to send them.” His teeth visibly clench. “I didn’t want anyone knowing that I owned it. But Tanner accidently let it get out . . .”
“Why does it matter?”
He sighs. “I don’t want the dancers feeling overwhelmed by me.” There’s a pause. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just . . . I’m afraid they’ll think I’m trying to own them. I want to help these women get away from this lifestyle. The last thing I’m trying to do is exploit them.”
“But, you’re . . .” I let my voice drift off as I see him frown.
“Yes, I’m exploiting them because I own and operate the strip club where they work.” I hear the tightness in his voice and I’m sure I’ve offended him. “I know exactly what it looks like. I feel conflicted about it every day.” His finger drags up the outside of his wineglass to catch a drop of wine. “I made most of my money before I ever opened a club. Penny’s earns a lot, but I don’t take the cuts other owners would. The dancers tip out the bartenders and bouncers, but I don’t take anything. They keep everything else that they earn. I also spend a lot of time and money trying to help where I can. Counseling, tutoring, whatever they need.” A dark, serious gaze settles on me. “If they’re going to choose this life, I can’t stop them. But I can give them a safe place while they’re in it, until they can decide to get out of it.”
“That’s very . . .” my voice drifts as I search for the right word, “. . . noble.”
“It’s more like compensating,” he says quietly, taking another small sip as he holds my gaze carefully, as if he can see me processing his vague words.
Compensating for things he has done in his past? So Cain isn’t perfect. I wonder what he’s done that’s so bad. I wonder if it’s as bad as what I’ve done. What if it’s worse? Would I forgive him if I found out he was a rapist or a murderer? Is that worse than trafficking deadly drugs, ruining lives?