Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 614(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 614(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“He already is,” Rez confirmed.
“Not just a Pecker. A redheaded Pecker! I heard it’s a rare species.” Crew squawked loudly, sounding like a sick bird.
Torres hooted. “This is pure fucking gold.”
He was so glad everyone was having a good laugh at his expense. “I quit,” Finn grumbled, rising to his feet again.
“No you don’t. Sit down,” Crew ordered.
“I do. This shit isn’t funny. You’re just fucking with me, right? With this whole thing? I’m being punked?”
Crew’s laughter quickly faded away. “Wrong. Need I remind you that you agreed to be a team player when you accepted this assignment?”
“Being a team player shouldn’t involve me taking off clothes in front of a bunch of horny women…”
Wait. Hold up a damn minute.
“Look at the smoke billowing from his ears,” Decker hooted, whacking Finn on the back. “Someone grab the fire extinguisher!”
“He might be glitching. Push his reset button,” Kruger suggested.
“The fucker just realized he’ll have a captive audience of drunk, horny women staring at his freckled package,” Rez announced, wiggling his pinky in the air.
“Waving cash at him, too,” Powers added
“That he won’t be able to keep. No double-dipping,” Crew reminded them. “All right, is there anything else we need to cover? Any new info or discoveries?”
“Wait. I didn’t agree to this,” Finn said weakly.
“You don’t have to agree to a particular assignment. You agreed to join the task force. You want to remain on it, or do you want to leave and head back to doing patrol?”
He sank back down in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. He needed to wake up from this bad fucking nightmare.
“I think I like freckled Pecker better than redheaded Pecker,” Torres announced.
“Use the fake name of Peter,” Mullins suggested. “Peter Pecker.”
“You’re all assholes,” Finn grumbled. “Every fucking one of you.”
Finn pulled his assigned task force vehicle into an empty parking spot behind The Peach Pit. He turned off the Kia Soul and stared at the back of the strip club located right on the edge of Uniontown. The employee lot was full but then, between everyone involved with tonight’s performance, plus the regular employees needed to run the club, that wasn’t surprising.
When he met up with the traveling entertainment troupe to learn the opening and closing group routines, Nick said the manager of the club would only give them the next two Monday nights in a “take it or leave it” offer. Mondays were the only nights available since the club was normally closed then. The rest of the week was out since the venue only had a single stage, unlike some other larger strip clubs.
The Peach Pit agreed to book two “limited engagement” performances to see how much money it drew before committing to any additional shows.
Finn didn’t give two shits about how much money the gigs brought Nick, the owner/manager of Peckers, or even those fucking Demons. He’d get on stage tonight and possibly next Monday and then that was fucking it.
After that... He. Was. Done.
It was bad enough he had to explain to his sixty-four-year-old mother why he was asking for the keys to her dance studio. He made sure the studio was locked down tight and no one was observing him watching male stripper instructional videos so he could break down specific moves while he mirrored them.
Luckily, his mother had a great sense of humor and thought him going undercover as a stripper was hilarious. However, Finn wasn’t amused when she also asked for a video of his performance.
That was a big fucking N-O.
“They don’t allow cameras in strip clubs, Mom.” At least that was how it was the last time he’d been to one. They had to leave their phones at the door and pick them up on their way out. He assumed The Peach Pit had the same policy. If they didn’t, he wasn’t telling her that. But they’d better, because without that policy, someone could get him on video and if it got out, his cover could be blown.
No matter how much his mother insisted, he refused to give her the name of the club, the company he’d be dancing with or the date of the show. He wouldn’t put it past her to show the fuck up with dollar bills in hand. If she did, he would have to leave the country.
Fuck leaving the country, his soul would leave Earth because he’d be dead.
He shuddered at the thought of simulating sex moves, while basically naked, in front of the woman who birthed him.
Blowing out a harsh breath, he unfolded himself from the Kia and retrieved a duffel bag from the back seat full with all the shit he’d need tonight.
With gritted teeth, he pounded on the rear steel door. It took a few minutes for someone to answer it.
“You were supposed to be here a half hour ago, Danny,” Nick complained. “I hired you as a favor because my brother said you need some extra cash. Don’t make me regret this.”