(Skeleton Key) Game Master (7 page)

The strong protecting the weak.

That was how I had changed.

That was me now. The strong.

I spoke to the manager about what had been requested, and she nodded and gestured for the dark haired man to come over. As he stalked in our direction, very much dominating the entire room, I blinked.

Jesus, it was Lucifer.

At least, I thought it was him.

I squinted. Yes. It was him. Thank you, Lord!

We had both managed to attract the only criminals in the room. I was pretty sure that was saying something.

And his wig was better than mine.

Lucifer stopped in front of us, acting as if he didn’t know me. He nodded his approval while the manager spoke to him.

Then she left us. We stayed in our roles.

No chitchat. No fun times. Pure business.

Another reason why we worked so well together.

We strolled to the private table together.

I watched as the two bad guys took us in. It was similar to how General Finley had once. Like we were prized sheep. In a sick sense, we kind of were. But to put it more accurately, we were wolves dressed as sheep. I smiled inside.

They got up from the table and followed.

Lucifer must have already been there before because he knew exactly where he was going. I followed him like I knew what the hell I was doing, still swaying my practically bare ass as we walked up a flight of stairs. Their gazes heated my backside. It made me want to run.

But we were here. In the now.

General Finley was throwing us to the fucking sharks.

We entered a room at the back of a long hallway.

The room was red. Just red.

The couch that wrapped around all four walls was red. The ceiling and walls were red. The carpet was red. The lit candles were red. Even the pole in the center of the room was red.

I tried not to take that as a bloody omen.

The two men flipped through the song selection and spoke to the lone musician in the corner. The music started as the men sat down, one on either side of the room. Lucifer began to explain the rules, but Shorthair interrupted. “You on her for the first song. Then her on you for the second. And the third and fourth, you will each dance alone.” He snapped his fingers at the guy with the long hair.

Longhair pulled the wad back out of his pocket and tossed it to Lucifer.

Shorthair stated, “Make it believable, and there will be opportunities for more cash.”

Lucifer thumbed through the bills absently before flinging it on the couch beside him. He commented with ease, “We can do that.”

He grabbed my hands and placed by back against the pole.

I had never received a lap dance before, but I always thought that required one to be sitting.

I was wrong.

Lucifer proved that.

Very believably, I might add.

I had seen commercials for the popular male strippers who travel the United States, but Lord, help me, it hadn’t looked enjoyable to me. Men strutting around with their junk hanging all around? No thanks. For a man to turn me on, he needed to be strong and tough and sensual.

Lucifer managed that.

I doubted those oh, so popular men could do what he did in front of me. Or, rather, against me. I forgot in this room you could touch, and Lucifer covertly grabbed my hands a quarter of the way through the song and placed them on his chest.

Oops. I forgot I had a role to play, too.

I had to make him look
wanted
.

I got with the program.

Mmm, it wasn’t all that hard.

I lost myself in it, not sure if I was role playing any longer.

The song ended, and another began.

It was my turn.

I couldn’t do the pole thing because he was too tall.

So, I backed him into the couch with a pointed finger to his chest. I straddled him and dropped my head back, picturing a naughty little minx. Lucifer helped make me look even better, like a man on the brink of pouncing. He managed to keep his hands from going anywhere too dangerous, even when I stuck my crotch in his face at one point—a little trick with my legs over his shoulders. It was harder than it looked, but luckily, I didn’t fall on my face.

The song ended much as the one onstage had—with a person’s face stuck in my cleavage.

Lucifer breathed just as hard as I did, even though he hadn’t been doing a damn thing. He had a death grip on my hips, so I decided the next song was mine, too, to give him a moment to recover.

It wasn’t every day your partner’s crotch landed in your face.

I straightened up and worked the bar—not easy—and studied both men’s eyes to see what they liked best. It wasn’t hard. One guy was a tits man and the other an ass man. That was easy enough.

I crawled across the room with my ass in the air for the one who liked that and let my tits damn near fall out of my top for the guy I crawled up.

His hands ran down my arms, sending a sick shiver over my skin. It was as if he were testing the softness of my skin by the way he examined it.

I let him believe I was the sheep being appraised until the song ended.

While Lucifer danced by himself, I figured out these guys were both straight. I hadn’t been sure at first, but after they had touched him the same way they did me, with the absence of any sexuality in their gaze and with more calculation, it was obvious. It was also clear they were scouts on a mission. They were looking for beauty—male or female. Lucifer’s features were rough with hard angles, and his body was sculpted to perfection. His masculine beauty stood out amongst the rest, and his natural presence was an observable turn-on to most.

Even if they didn’t want me to play in their cat and mouse game, I knew they’d want Lucifer.

The music softly stopped.

Lucifer walked over to where the money was.

I swayed my ass as I walked to stand by him. I eyed the cash just enough to look interested, but still professional.

The men were still sitting there, both thinking.

Finally, Longhair stood and walked over to us. “Are you two interested in making more money?”

Again, I smiled inside.

I nodded and glanced at the cash.

Lucifer said, “Of course.”

Longhair stuck his right hand into his coat pocket. He pulled out two black cards. His pristine fingernails gleamed under the red lighting. He handed one to each of us.

I memorized the lone address on it.

He explained, “Come to that location on Wednesday between the times of four p.m. and five p.m. You’ll be instructed what to do from there.” He walked out of the red room.

Shorthair followed him.

I stuffed the card down my bustier and strolled out of the private room. Lucifer stalked behind me, both of us still playing our roles perfectly.

The sun peeked just over the horizon by the time Lucifer, General Finley, and I sat down in Lucifer’s room at the keep we were staying in. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Lucifer yet about what he thought of the experience. Though I was more than pleased to be wearing a pair of baggy night pants and an oversized shirt of Lucifer’s. My hair was freshly washed and up in a ponytail.

I was
clean
.

Lucifer wore a pair of simple shorts and a sleeveless shirt, his person also fresh from the shower. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, but he plowed into his sandwich with gusto.

General Finley sipped on coffee, the steam rising from it. He leaned back in his chair, and probed, “So?”

I didn’t care about manners at this point. I spoke as I chewed a bite of my own chicken sandwich and chips. “This was supposed to be part of the Game. We’re supposed to be training for situations like this, not handling them right now.”

Lucifer muttered around a mouthful, “Those guys were pros.”

General Finley smiled then. “You have nothing to say about the actual work? No squeamish worries? No blushing modesty?”

Lucifer snorted.

I asked dryly, “Did it look like we had a problem with that?”

General Finley relaxed. “No. Not at all. You were both very good. You could have any job in a sex club.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re flattered, but we’re booked.” I pushed the black cards across the small table, in his direction, and explained what we had learned.

I dropped onto the bed, groaning, my feet barking. I stared up at the ceiling as I munched on my chips and curled and uncurled my toes. Christ, my feet hurt something fierce. Whoever the hell invented stilettos deserved to be shot. My ankles were actually swollen.

Suddenly, strong hands held my feet, kneading into the soreness. I groaned loud and long. It hurt at first, but Lucifer knew what he was doing.

My eyelids drooped.

Ah.

General Finley cleared his throat delicately. “Shall I come back later? Give you two some privacy?”

Lucifer and I flipped him off at the same time.

General Finley’s lips twitched.

I questioned, “So, what the hell happened to the Game?”

General Finley shrugged. “The opportunity presented itself. It was dumb luck they were there tonight and a credit to you both that you managed to attract their attention so quickly. They’re on our watch list for a smallish ring here in Terlant.

“You obviously can’t go in yet,” I seriously pouted at that, “but we can send in someone with the information we’ve garnered tonight.” He paused. “Or today. Whatever time it was. I’m just happy you two found one another. You make an excellent team. I would never take the risk of you being placed with someone you don’t know.”

I agreed, “Lucifer and I get each other.”

Lucifer just yawned and laid his head down by my feet. He still massaged them, his fingers digging in, but his efforts were getting weaker and slower. His yawn was contagious, and I followed suit, my lids dropping.

He mumbled, “Where’s Kingsley?”

“In my room. Sleeping on my pillow.”

Lucifer chuckled.

General Finley blew out the candles and left the room on silent feet.

I woke up to a rooster crowing. My face was smashed against something hard and smooth and warm, and something else that crunched and smelled of BBQ. I wiped the drool from my mouth and opened my eyes. I was still on Lucifer’s bed. I had used his foot and a sack of chips as a pillow.

He groaned from the other end of the mattress. “Clean the damn drool off my foot. It’s making me need to pee more.”

I quickly used my shirt to wipe my spit off his foot. Then I picked chips out of my hair as I sat up.

He rolled over. His sleepy eyes stared up at me. I was sure I was a sight, my ponytail listing off to one side, chips in my hair, dried drool on my cheek. And I must have lain on the bone in his foot because my face hurt enough I knew there had to be a red mark covering half of my face.

I was fairly positive I looked like I should be calling Alcoholics Anonymous instead of being an active participant in the Game for the Guard.

Lucifer rubbed his eyes and opened them again, staring. “Nope. I’m not imagining it. You really look that bad.”

I plucked another chip from my hair and threw it at him. “Fuck you.” Point to him.

He stretched and yawned, lots of muscles flexing. “We need to move. General Finley expects us downstairs for our daytime Game.”

My eyes narrowed. A damn rooster had woken us. That was like birds chirping before the sun rose. It was animal time, not human—or humona—time.

I shouted in frustration, “It’s barely light outside!”

Though I did toss chips out of my hair faster.

Right at Lucifer.

He growled and threw his pillow at my head. “The only time I allow someone to yell like that in the morning is if they’re under me.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Or over me.”

I opened my mouth. Paused. And shut it.

I wasn’t going to touch that one.

“I need to go change.” I jumped off the bed.

My exit from the mattress didn’t go as planned.

I crumbled to the ground when the bruised soles of my feet hit the carpet. It was as if shards of glass were stabbing up into them. I screeched as I fell.

Screw Lucifer. I would yell all I wanted. It hurt!

Lucifer groaned from up on the bed. “You’re not allowed in my room anymore.”