Sin on the Run Read Free Page A

tugged her closer. She told herself to relax and enjoy being held by a very handsome, very capable man. This guy didn’t need anyone to take care of him. This was the type of guy who did the taking care.
    Bridesmaid duties over, Rhonda had wanted to change, but Shannon insisted she keep the dress. Now in the bathroom, Rhonda stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look bad, but she didn’t look like herself either. Or had she been protecting this person for so long that now she was a stranger even to herself?
    Who was Rhonda Deagan?

Chapter Two
    B lake spotted her the moment she returned. Hell, every man in the room had either craned his neck or swiveled his head. As she walked up the aisle, she looked familiar but he couldn’t place her. Now, away from the other women, he figured it out. Black Opal was a beauty. Dressed in lavender or her usual black, it didn’t matter.
    He’d often wondered if her off-stage persona was anything like the on-stage one. Over the top in everything: her hair, too black to be natural and too long to be real, would fall to her ass. He’d seen her dance, seen her use that mane as a cloak, teasing the audience with silky sweeps over creamy white skin, revealing only hints of what lay beneath. The old cliché fit. The woman put the tease in striptease.
    He’d been in the club a couple of times under the guise of private investigator. When clients wanted to be entertained in Vegas, it usually involved a show, a stage and beautiful women, clothes optional. He had nothing against women seductively taking their clothes off, but he preferred them to do it in the privacy of his bedroom, for him alone.
    He’d spent years as a special agent locking up scum who preyed on innocent women, but Maggie’s club was different. The women were considered performers with an act, some with agents, and were treated as such. Any woman who’d ever been coerced or pushed into stripping knew the difference between Heart’s Desire and other clubs. Maggie and the three women who’d walked with her down the aisle gave anyone who wanted out of the business a helping hand.
    The few times he’d seen Rhonda dance he’d been unable to take his eyes off her. Normally he didn’t even bother to watch, but she’d exuded this confidence, this don’t-screw-with-me aura that had men falling at her feet. Go figure. But even though she looked like a ball-buster, Blake had sworn he’d seen more. What, he wasn’t sure.
    He put a hand over his mouth, failing to stifle yet another yawn. His last case had done him in. He’d been hired to recover a missing model, one whose legs had been insured for millions. Her agency wanted their money, but since she hadn’t shown up dead, the insurance company was reluctant to pay out. The designer she’d signed with wasn’t pleased about losing the star of his ad campaign. Claiming it had cost him a fortune, the guy had wanted compensation.
    Blake recovered the model. Only the legs that had made her famous were no longer attached to her body. He’d prayed she’d been dead when she’d been mutilated. Shaking the gruesome image out of his head, he headed to the bar for a drink. He took a seat and swiveled his chair, curious to see Maggie’s other bridesmaids corner Rhonda. They’d done it earlier by the fountains. He’d caught the women staring and had the feeling he’d been the topic of their debate. Rhonda didn’t look like she cared to be part of the discussion and by their open-mouth shock, she told them so, right before she turned on a pair of sexy heels and walked off. He smiled, liking the woman more and more. She had balls.
    He was reminded of another woman with balls, but not the good kind. Elizabeth Jameson, the Dowager Duchess of Oakley, his grandmother, had been a royal pain in his ass for as long as he could remember. While highly inappropriate to say, he