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Garrett grinned and closed his eyes. Bunny rubbed her nose gently against his. Her lavender lotion caressed his nostrils. He slipped a dollar bill into her G-string and followed her breasts as she slid gracefully from him and teased a patron across the table.

“This club is really great. Thanks for letting me in,” Ben called to Garrett over the blaring music. “I heard you also have an amazing house.” Though they were sitting right next to one another, Garrett could hardly hear him. He liked the music loud. The goal was to watch the girls, not chat with the bum at your side.

Garrett nodded and lifted one corner of his mouth in a cocky grin. “It’s a beauty. I’ve worked hard to earn it. Fifteen rooms. Four bathrooms. A shower in one bathroom has three heads and room for five people. Two have Jacuzzi tubs. That’s not counting the one by the pool. The view from the deck overlooks the entire valley. My six-car garage is packed with angels like my 1965 Mustang Fastback with a 500 horsepower v8. It’s my castle; my slice of heaven.”

“That sounds beautiful, man. I’d love to come by and check it out one of these days.”

Bunny slid away from the patron across the table with a few more bills stuffed in her panties. She knelt down in front of Ben, slid her fingers through his hair and pulled his face toward her gyrating pelvis.

Suddenly she pushed him back, slapped his face, and slid quickly over toward Garrett.

“What happened?” Garrett asked.

“She just freaked out on me!” Ben yelled and pointed accusingly at Bunny.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Garrett said to Ben, then turned sympathetically to Bunny. “What happened?”

Bunny wrapped an arm around Garrett’s neck and clung to him as she explained, “He reached under my leg and tried to stick his fingers—“ Garrett’s eyes narrowed and settled on Ben like a hawk targeting a field mouse as he listened to the rest of Bunny’s explanation. He gave the dancer a kiss on the cheek and told her to take a few minutes in the dressing room to calm down. He promised Ben would not be here when she returned.

“But—“ Ben started. Garrett cut him off by raising the palm of his hand between them. He nodded to a bouncer now standing behind Ben. Meaty paws clamped down on Ben’s shoulders. The three walked to the back door without further incident. Garrett was happy to see his girls effectively distract the patron’s of the club while he took out the trash.

Out in the alley, the goon’s meaty paws slammed down on Ben like hammers. He cried out as his head slammed against a trashcan and he crumbled into a pool of piss and vomit.

“What the hell do you think you were doing? Who gave you permission to touch my girl?” Garrett slid black leather gloves over his cold fingers.

“She grabbed me and pulled me toward her.” Ben’s words were slurred; muffled by the pool of blood filling his mouth from holes where teeth had been. “Come on, man. She was stuffing my face in it. She was practically begging me.”

“It’s a strip club. You can look, but you can’t touch.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know?” Garrett shook his head and looked at the bouncer lifting Ben back up to his feet. “He didn’t know.”

The goon chuckled, but remained mute.

Garrett stepped up to Ben and tapped his cheek with an open palm. “It’s a strip club, you ass. It’s assumed.”

“I’m sorry, Garrett. You know I’d never do anything to disrespect you. I got carried away. I thought she was inviting me. I thought she wanted it.”

Garrett stepped back and unbuttoned his coat. The bouncer punched Ben in the side of the head, sending the broken man sprawling back to the ground.

“You were talking about my house,” Garrett said. “Talking about wanting to come over. Wanting to swim in my pool and sit in my cars. Is that what you were saying in there?” Garrett slid a pistol and silencer from behind his back.

“Oh, Jesus. No. Please. I’m sorry.” Ben threw a hand in front of his face as if he could stop a bullet. Garrett twisted the silencer into place at the end of the barrel and pulled back the slide to chamber a round.

“Explain it to me before you go. Explain to me why I would ever possibly want a stank-ass bum who owes me twenty large to taint my pool with his funk? What in the hell would compel me to stain the seats of my cars with filth like you?” Garrett pointed the gun at Ben’s lifted palm. “And how could anyone possibly think that a beautiful girl would want your fingers—?“

Ben cried and begged for his life, profusely apologizing but never offering answers to Garrett’s questions.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Garrett shrugged, lowering the gun.

Ben froze, silent after one last sniffle. He lowered his hand slowly, looking past it, appearing confused about Garrett’s last statement. Garrett was notorious for ruthless violence. He knew Ben was aware of his reputation. Ben looked as if he was actually starting to believe he could be on his side of Garrett’s gun and live to tell about it.

“It doesn’t matter?” Ben asked.

Garrett shook his head. “No, it doesn’t matter whether you answer me or not. The questions were rhetorical.”

Garrett pointed the gun at Ben’s forehead and fired a single round.