Electrified(10)

Now here he was, rushing back to Vegas every weekend. Why? What the hell was the draw? Carson sighed because he knew damn well.

Sienna Flower, adult entertainer with moves that would ignite a dead man, and eyes like a virgin, making him feel like a young kid all over again.

Christ, he had a problem.

The case he was currently working was burning him up and playing with his mind, besides displacing him to the West Coast. Although the job was lining his bank account—even at his lowest rate—it was taking much longer than he expected. He needed it to be over.

Am I losing my touch already?

He sighed and turned the car back toward the Strip while something nagged at his gut over this assignment. There was something odd, some piece of the puzzle missing, which was why the case was taking longer than expected.

What was wrong with him that he couldn’t find it? What was he missing?

It was a first for him, and he didn’t like it. Not. One. Fucking. Bit. Which was why he found himself running off to Sin City every weekend.

He needed to let off steam, and where better to do so than Las Vegas? It was an occupational hazard of his…letting loose. Going back to his FBI days, Carson always needed a little fun, a tiny walk on the wild side to let go of the stress of the job. Otherwise, he lived and breathed his cases, working late into the night to solve them.

He needed a good time to release the pressure, which he currently was finding at the Electric Tunnel, but the pressure only mounted more after visiting the club. What originally started out as a method to clear his head and make way for him to solve the case, was clouding his judgment even more.

Sienna Flower had happened…that was what.

His latest client—or clients, since it was a married couple—was able to pay him. Yeah, they were making good on his rates, but their friends raised the funds, not them. They were willing to keep transferring money to him, yet he didn’t like the eerie feeling that had begun to dog him. They were lying to him. Withholding information, at the very least.

For the first time ever, Carson was considering giving up the case. The only thing that stopped him was the worry that nagged him over the missing person he was hunting down.

Shit, I’m going soft.

He was turning into an emotional cream puff, which was a bigger occupational hazard than having a grand time in Vegas.

Originally, he’d needed a respite from the bone-deep worry that something was terribly wrong with the case, so he started heading to Sin City for the weekends. Now, his gut was messed up from the case and his head was fucked up from a stripper.

The family who had hired him was pretty certain their missing relative had fled out west or thereabouts. Why were they so convinced of that theory? Carson had been stuck scouring small towns for the last month and a half. He didn’t like small towns with strange people all up in each other’s business. Almost as little as he liked the case.

He was starting to need his weekly adventure to Vegas by Tuesday of each week. It was a place where he could disappear and enjoy himself for forty-eight hours. After all, he was still a man with baser needs.

The problem all began when he went to check out the infamous Sienna Flower the first night he got to Vegas. He hadn’t been able to tear himself away from her image, nor enjoy himself at all since that night. He couldn’t figure it out. He’d had many women over the years—gorgeous, seductive, exotic women when he was traveling—and now he was stuck on some Vegas showgirl. No, not a showgirl. Exotic dancer.

Carson downshifted the car as the lights of the Vegas Strip came into view, rolling around what little he knew about her in his head. Nothing about her made sense. She’d arrived on the scene a few years back, and before long became the biggest thing Vegas had seen in years. She didn’t do private rooms or parties. Ever. Asher Peterson, king of the adult dance club world, pulled her from lap dancing after only a year of dancing at the Tunnel. Now all she did was grace billboards, shake her ass onstage, and bring millions of dollars into the club.

He knew all this from Google. Fuck, after the first night seeing her, he couldn’t get her tits, firm ass cheeks, and electrifying eyes out of his mind. He’d googled her like a horny teenager, and decided she must have been a local Asher had taken a liking to.

Were they romantically involved? Was Asher tapping that?

And why was he even thinking about Sienna’s potential bed partners? He was fairly certain that wasn’t a role even he could fill.

Do I want to?

Unfortunately, Carson had developed a nasty habit of heading to the Tunnel every Thursday through Saturday nights for the last month. Tonight was no different. He went to see Sienna dance. Then he left to go back to his hotel to either pick up someone in the hotel bar or jack off. Lately, his preference was to stroke himself to recent memories, those of a striking, gorgeous, naturally curvy woman with a heady combination of innocence and salacious moves.