Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) by Becca Jameson (inspirational novels .TXT) 📕

I straighten my shirt and smooth my hands down my chest as I follow the bouncer to a back set of stairs and up to the second floor. I spot Blade still seated at our table from the balcony because the second floor only encompasses the periphery of the building.

I take careful stock of where I’m located with regard to the exits as the bouncer knocks on a door and then opens it. “The man you wanted to speak to, Sir.”

“Thanks, Gordon.”

Gordon backs up and lets me pass.

I enter, immediately noting that the man facing me has a vibe I do not like. He’s like a mob boss. Balding. Fake smile. Three-piece suit. He reeks of laundered money. He points to a chair across from his desk. “Have a seat.”

“Not sure why I’m here,” I point out as I approach.

He waves a hand through the air. “Nothing nefarious. I was just watching you from the balcony. I like your style and you’re a big guy. I can always use more guys like you on my team.” He points at the chair again. “Sit.”

I do not like being ordered around, but I finally lower onto the chair at the same time he drops back onto his. He chuckles. “I like you already. What do you do?”

“Bounty hunter,” I respond without flinching. It’s a standard answer I give any time someone finds me suspicious. People back off when they realize someone is a bounty hunter.

“You don’t say.” He rubs his chin. “Excellent. Any chance you have some spare hours to work for me? I’m in need of a new man.” He reaches out a hand. “Nick Lazinski, by the way.”

“Brock Jacobs,” I return. Another answer that easily rolls off my tongue. Even matches the ID I used to get into the club. “What kind of work are we talking about?” I ask, forcing myself to remain outwardly calm. I lean back and cross my legs.

“For now, I need you to find someone. If you succeed, I’ll pay you a hefty finder’s fee. We can discuss future jobs at that time.”

“How much money are we talking about?” I inquire, keeping my voice level. I’m praying that the person he needs found is Britney. I’m also praying to God it is not.

He jots down a figure and pushes the piece of paper across the desk toward me.

Holy fuck.

Again, I give no indication this is unusual. “This person you’re looking for break the law? Steal something from you?”

He shakes his head. “On the contrary. She’s done nothing wrong. She’s one of my dancers. Didn’t show up last night and was a no-show again tonight. I don’t like it. Smells of foul play.”

I nod. I’m also going to win an Oscar for my performance. “You hunt down all your employees when they don’t show up? They have some kind of contract with you?”

He shakes his head and grins. “Nope. I’m just a good guy. I worry about my girls. There are a lot of creeps out there who might harass my girls after hours. My staff works hard to ensure no one is followed home, but it can happen anyway. This girl didn’t call in, isn’t answering her phone, and didn’t respond to her door when I sent men to check on her.”

“Seems like a lot of work. Maybe she just quit,” I suggest.

“Unlikely. She’s treated like gold here.” He sets his elbows on the desk. “This one is special. Men request her every night.”

I lift my brows. “What’s so special about her?”

He shrugs. “She ain’t like the other girls. She’s…pure. No enhancements. Real hair. Kind of rare in this industry.” He reaches into a folder and then hands me a picture that makes my blood boil. Not that I’m surprised, but the confirmation that he’s looking for Britney, my Britney, makes my chest tighten.

I hold the picture in front of me. “I’ve seen her here before. Cotton Candy.” I can’t very well lie. Licorice could easily rat to her boss that I asked for Britney. “Was hoping to see her tonight actually.”

The guy laughs. “See? Told you she’s well-liked. There’s an untapped market for girls who haven’t had any work done. You get it.”

I nod as I set her picture down on the desk, not wanting to look at it any longer. It’s a photo of her dancing, and I currently want to burn this place down to destroy it and any other photos this man might have taken of Britney.

Obviously, I haven’t seen her breasts up close and personal, but this isn’t the way I would have preferred to see them for the first time.

I’m kicking myself in my mind. First of all, Britney is not mine. Second of all, I have no business ever seeing her tits. I’m trying to save her life, not claim her. I need to remind myself of that often if I’m going to get through this without hurting her.

She’s so fucking sweet. She leans on me like she totally trusts me. How on earth has someone like her survived this long without… I can’t even think the rest of that sentence.

Lazinski taps the folder that contained the photo. “I have all her details in here. More pics. Address. Cell phone. You think you can find her?”

I sigh, pretending to consider his offer. “That’s a lot of money,” I state, pointing at the figure he wrote down. I should pretend to be leery. Fuck, I am leery. Of course, I’m going to take this job. It’s divine intervention he offered it to me. I certainly don’t want some other fucker running around town looking for Britney.

This actually couldn’t have worked out better. I can be the inside man. I’ll know what the hell is going on at all times. It’s the best way we could possibly gain access to the seller and the buyer. I doubt Lazinski is the actual seller, just like I doubt whoever was meeting him here was the actual