Rumor (Renegades #4)(5)
Author: Skye Jordan

She turned and pointed toward a shadowed corner where a group of rowdy younger men sat near the stage. A woman stood between two chairs, her back facing Josh. She was leaning forward, her hands braced on the men’s shoulders.

The woman who went by Nicole wore a one-shouldered, skintight black dress that clung to every luscious curve and barely covered her ass. Tanned legs stretched long and lean beneath the hem, made even longer—and sexier—by the sparkling spiked heels she wore. One side of the dress had diamond-shaped cutouts, showing a nice amount of evenly tanned skin all along her body, right down to her hip. The fabric gathered and was held together with clear rhinestones down her side. There was no way she was wearing anything underneath.

Josh didn’t recognize her as Grace. This woman had copper-colored hair falling in curls to the middle of her back. Right color—wrong length. And Grace had always been thin, with a more boyish straight-up-and-down figure. Josh would have noticed curves like those.

Wouldn’t he?

“In the black,” Stephie said. “Nicole. That’s who you’re looking for, right?”

“Don’t think that’s her,” he told Stephie. “But thanks.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes, please. Jack and Coke. Double would be good.”

“Be right back.”

When he slid his blazer off, his bad shoulder pulled, reminding him of the football incident. He tossed it over the back of the chair, and rolled up his sleeves before sitting, his eyes locked on the woman in black, waiting for a glimpse of her face. But his peripheral vision was picking up the brazenly erotic moves on the stage, and combined with the music, the lyrics, and the atmosphere, Josh’s body was definitely responding. His cock had grown thick, and the confinement of his slacks added pressure along his length. His heart was beating too fast, his body was too hot, his throat too tight.

The woman laughed, throwing her head back, and her hair—a shade darker than Grace’s, he was sure—fell down her spine like a sensual waterfall. A man came up beside her, and she turned and greeted him, exposing the stylishly and incredibly sexily cut side of her dress. Yep, she definitely had amazing curves. He tried to remember Grace wearing anything that would have accentuated curves but couldn’t. Tried to remember feeling them during the occasional hug—again, nothing.

Yes, he’d purposely been trying not to notice, considering she’d married his best buddy and fellow SEAL teammate, but still…

She reached up and hugged the older man. Since this wasn’t Grace, Josh let himself survey all that gorgeous skin, taking in her small waist, full hips and, once again, checking out the length of those sleek thighs. And he was plenty warm by the time he lifted his gaze to the woman’s face again.

Familiarity burned along his sternum and across his ribs.

Grace.

“Holy…shit…” He stared, trying to convince himself he was mistaken. Her heavy makeup was messing with his mind—Josh had never seen Grace with more than a trace. But then she slid her hands down the older man’s arms, rested her fingers in his, and smiled. And that grin was something Josh would never mistake—right down to the right-sided dimple near her mouth.

It’s Grace.

His stomach jumped, skipped…and plummeted. Grace was working in a strip club. Wearing a barely there dress that showcased every asset, makeup that turned her from sweet to seductive, and laying her hands all over strange men.

He pushed to his feet, hands clenched, then rethought and sat back down. He had no rights to her. No say in her life. He’d given all that up when he’d walked away.

But he still cared. And she wouldn’t be here, doing this, unless something was wrong. He could still help, despite their past.

She continued talking with the older man. They turned toward the stage, leaning into each other, talking over the music, and the man slipped his arm around her waist, his hand settling low on Grace’s hip. The intimacy of the touch made Josh’s fingers curl into fists.

Stephie showed up with his drink. Josh didn’t even give her time to set it on the table. He took it straight from her hand and tipped it back, taking the whole thing in one swallow.

“Ooooh-kay,” Stephie said in a half laugh. “I assume that means you’d like another?”

“Please.”

The older man moved his hand up her back and kissed Grace on the temple before wandering off through the club. Grace made her way to a dancer straddling a customer’s hips near the stage. With a very friendly stroke of her hand over the man’s shoulder, Grace glided around behind the dancer, put her hands on the woman’s waist, her chin on her shoulder, and let her body follow the movement.

“What in the fuck…?” Josh murmured, unable to pull his gaze from the erotic sight.

Grace’s hands slid lower, gripped the woman’s hips, and urged them into a sexier roll. She spoke to the client as she thrust, easing the dancer’s hips into a more rhythmic thrust. He nodded, eyes big, mouth open like a drooling puppy, and Grace smiled, a sultry, seductive smile Josh had never seen before. The dancer dropped her head back to Grace’s shoulder, raised her arms to wrap them around Grace’s neck, and turned her face against the skin of Grace’s throat.

Patrons sitting nearby cheered their approval of the girl-on-girl action, and the heat simmering in Josh’s body rocketed through his groin and up his chest. He fought to search out the what, the how, the why of this, but his mind floated in distracting titillation.

“Here you go.” Stephie set Josh’s second drink down.

“Thanks. Keep ’em coming, will you?” he asked.

“Who are you?” Stephie asked. “Her new bodyguard or something?”

Josh’s gaze broke from the erotic sight of Grace getting it on with two others and focused on Stephie. “Why? Does she need one?”

“I personally think we all need one after what happened last week. But, no one’s springing for any service, so I guess we’re relying on our monkeys in suits.”

“Stephie!” Someone called from close by. “Need another drink over here, sweetness.”

She glanced at Josh again. “I’ll bring you another in a few.” Then she darted through the shadows to another table.

When Josh returned his gaze to the lap dance, Grace was gone, the original dancer still going at it with her customer.

He scanned the area and found Grace weaving through the club, greeting men, group by group, stopping to talk for a moment, then moving on. No lap dances. No running to get drinks. Josh couldn’t figure out the setup.