“You’re fine, babe,” Patrick said, “just hold onto my hand and walk with me.” He shook his head in amusement at George.
George paid the cover for all of them. The strip club was dark and music pulsed through the room. There were several side stages and one main stage where a woman in a white thong with enormous fake breasts was gyrating slowly. Once they walked in, George took Stella’s hand and pulled her to him.
“I need ice for my knees,” Millie whined.
“We’ll get you some, Grace,” Stella assured her with a grin, “don’t worry.”
Patrick and Millie followed them over to the table in the corner with a good view of the stage. A woman with dark curls cascading down her back emerged from the back. She wore a bright, lime green thong bikini bottom and bustier with mile-high clear heels.
“I’ll go grab some ice and drinks.” Stella kissed George as he sat down. “Don’t get a lap dance without me.”
Stella made her way up to the bar. The female bartender walked over to her and looked her up and down. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, we’re sitting over there at that table.” Stella pointed. “I want to get a bottle of champagne, a bag of ice and the best lap dance available for my female friend at the table.” Stella slid her credit card across the bar.
The bartender nodded. “I’ll send it over.”
“Thanks.”
Stella walked back to the table, enjoying the atmosphere; it was dripping in sex. Just sitting in the room with the stage in front of them made her want to straddle George. When she sat down, Millie was still pouting about her knee. Stella leaned into George. “It’s a good thing she has no idea her face is all scratched up.”
George nodded and smiled as a blonde woman with no top on walked over to the table. She set an ice bucket with a chilled bottle of champagne down on the table with four glasses, then carried over a bag of ice and placed it gently on Millie’s bleeding knee.
Millie looked up and smiled politely. “Thank you.”
The woman put a shot in between her voluptuous breasts and straddled Millie’s lap. Stella began laughing immediately at the shock and alarm that played across Millie’s features. The stripper put her breasts in Millie’s face, pushing her mouth toward the shot glass in between her breasts, and told her to drink. George’s entire body was shaking with laughter and Patrick was looking everywhere but at Millie.
Shocking everyone sitting at the table, Millie put her mouth around the shot glass in between the stripper’s boobs and leaned her head back, taking the shot like a pro and then sitting back to watch the blonde gyrate on her lap with a smirk on her face. Stella’s stomach hurt from laughing so hard.
When the blonde finally kissed Millie’s cheek and told her thank you, Millie narrowed her eyes at Stella. “I hate you!” she yelled over the music.
Stella bent over with laughter. “You should’ve seen your fucking face.”
“Fuck you!” Millie’s melodic laughter rang through the air. “Hey, my face hurts. Is it okay?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Check Fucking Mate
Patrick ran down Union; Stella saw him from the stairs where she and Cooper were waiting for him. Cooper started jumping up and down seeing him jog in front of the house. They joined in with Patrick’s cadence down Union toward King Street, waving at Agent Gunter as they passed. At least she still had the detail on her house; it was like a security blanket when she did decide to stay at home.
She let Cooper run ahead and then as he peed, she and Patrick would catch up. “So. What’s the plan?”
“I’m trying to get close with someone he trusts at the agency. I’m hoping to drop a few hints here and there and maybe we can find a way to get something going.” Patrick’s voice was clipped, but it wasn’t from exertion.
“Okay. In the meantime, I’m getting him to meet me for dinner Wednesday.”
Patrick’s gait skipped. “What? Where?”
“I sent you that text on Saturday.”
“I was a little preoccupied with my girlfriend getting shit-faced and you getting her lap dances,” Patrick retorted. “Thanks for that by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” Now Stella had to pull Cooper’s leash, letting him know to catch up. “How’s her face?”
“Scabbed over. She had Neosporin on all day Sunday.”
“Damn.” Stella grinned remembering Millie’s dress hem flying up and showing everyone her ass. “Is she going to work today?”
“To be determined; she threw up all day Sunday too. I’m pretty sure that was her first and last time at a strip club.” Patrick checked his watch. “What’s the setup for Wednesday? Has Harris given you all the details? Are you recording as well?” Patrick fired off question after question, not letting her answer.
“It’s fine, Dad! We’re meeting at Chadwick’s.” Stella pulled at Cooper to catch up with them. She took a second to realize he lagged behind a good bit today. He took several gallops and got even with her again. “You okay, Coop?”
He looked up at her, his tongue hanging out but enjoying himself.
“Does George know you’re doing this?” Patrick slowed his pace for her to keep up. “I don’t like you meeting him alone and George didn’t seem like he knew anything about it this weekend.”
“No, George doesn’t know. I don’t want this touching him. He left last night none the wiser.” She slowed her breathing. “I’m not going to be alone; the FBI will have me covered. It should be fine.” Her unease was difficult to mask from Patrick. The only reason she could hide things from George was that he wasn’t around to look at her face.
“I’m just saying,” Patrick shrugged, “he’s going to be pissed.”
“I’ll be fine. Really.” She checked their time on her phone. “Agent Harris will make sure of that.”
Rebuffed, Patrick looked straight ahead. “I can’t tell you how much I worry about you. It’s kinda weird.”
“Well, you’re weird, so I guess that works.”
“Oh, you love me.” He nudged her with his elbow.
“I do.” She focused on breathing for a while until they found their rhythm together, Cooper matching them foot for foot.
The next night, she rushed home from work to change and get ready for the dinner. She was wearing a light blue, low-cut top that showed off her cleavage, jeans, and her brown knee-high boots. She pulled her wool peacoat on to walk Cooper in the park and contemplated what she was doing. Stella knew this was the only way she could handle getting rid of Jamie. She’d tried to kill him herself and she was surprised when she realized she couldn’t do it.
Cooper pulled her back toward the house and she crossed the street casually, like she didn’t have a care in the world. One of the agents sat in the dark sedan on the road, watching her place. She smiled and made her way back into the house.
Stella hung Cooper’s leash on the hook and left him at the door to the garage, his tail wagging. She could do this. She would do this.
Delilah roared to life and she couldn’t help but smile. She made her way to Georgetown listening to Miranda Lambert. A little Gunpowder and Lead would do wonders for her nerves. She stopped in Rossyln on the street that Agent Harris had told her and pulled up behind a black van. Stella laughed when Harris opened the back door, revealing computers and such in the back—it was just like the movies. He grabbed her hand and she climbed up into the back of the van.
Agent Harris made her pull her shirt off and had the other agent there put a wire on her bra. The man flinched when he saw her scars. He looked away quickly, going over the basics of the microphone. He had her move certain ways so that she would know that would interfere with the recorder, whether it would be muffled or static-sounding, and reminded her that they needed to hear everything clearly. She nodded and made sure she knew all the ways she shouldn’t sit or stand or lean. Agent Harris warned her about tipping him off, about saying too much, too little. After a while, she blocked him out—too much information was going to put her off her game.