Reclaimed (Powell Sanctuary #5)

Chapter 5

5

Aiden

I’ve gone to my brothers for advice about many things. They were the role models growing up. The ones that showed me what kind of man I could become. But through all the scuffs and scrapes and mistakes I’ve made over the last twenty years, I don’t think I could go to any of them with this.

“It won’t happen again, but just this once, I’m glad it did.”

For the last week, she’s all I can think about.

That little whimper plays on repeat in my head.

The way she felt cradled on my lap, the weight of her against my body. The moment was pure perfection.

It won’t happen again.

Like hell it won’t.

For two shifts I’ve watched her dance, sneaking out the back door the minute she exits the stage. A return to our normal. But it isn’t normal any longer. Not when I know what it feels like to make her come on my hand, and I’m done pretending it didn’t happen.

An incoming call alerts through my headset. With a scowl, I stab the retrieval button.

“Blue City Electric. How can I help you?” The rote greeting scrapes up my throat as I speak my first words of the day.

“Why’s my power out this morning?”

“Can I get your address so I can look into this for you?” I drop heavily into the rolling chair at my desk, and my orange cat, Chevy, butts against my shins. I key in the street, tuning out the sound of the man bitching in my ear.

“It appears that your location is experiencing an outage affecting approximately one hundred customers,” I respond, using the memorized script. “We anticipate your power will be restored by ten-fifteen this morning.”

The man goes off on a rant about how he pays entirely too much for this shit. I relax against the headrest and close my eyes, waiting until he wears himself out.

“Our crews are working diligently to restore your power. You will receive an update by text to the phone number we have on file. Have a nice day.”

I end the call and sink my fingers into Chevy’s bristly fur, completely unsurprised when my headset rings again.

After thirteen calls about the same outage, I’m hungry and cranky and tired of people thinking I can turn their lights back on with the push of a damn button. I find myself pacing my living room floor while the latest caller demands a full month’s reimbursement for a three-hour power outage.

I glance out the window. The overcast day heralds a welcome fall rainstorm. As the woman in my ear calls me an incompetent dingbat, a pair of headlights flash at the curb.

Ah. The brotherly brigade has arrived.

“We really do appreciate your business. You’ll receive an update by text. Bye now.” I click off and swing open my front door. “Fellas.”

Lee flicks his gaze to my headset. “You busy?”

I swiftly inventory the expressions of three of my older brothers, hardening a little at the open concern on their faces. “Working.”

“How’s the call center going?” Corjan slips beside me into my house and picks up my cat.

I shrug. “It’s a job.” I tear off the headset and drop it on the entry table beside me.

“A well-paying one, from what I hear.” Jack files in with Lee taking up the rear.

“I can’t complain.”

I went from quitting my construction job due to an old shoulder injury flaring, to being shot in the other shoulder, making my return to the business impossible. By a stroke of luck, I not only found a job at the only electric company in this third of the state, but a fast-track promotion to the top due to some timely resignations. These days, I’m making more than I did in the construction business.

The pay? Fantastic. I’d stick with it for the rest of my career if the job itself didn’t feel like it was siphoning out my soul every time I took another call. Not that there’s much left of said soul these days anyway.

“That’s good to hear,” Corjan says quietly. Of all my family, I know he’s taking my distance the hardest. With the others entering their forties, the two of us have always been close as the youngest of the bunch. He just doesn’t see we’re on completely different dimensions. He married his high school sweetheart, lost her, got her back, and has kids.

I’ve never been in love and am still a virgin.

I’ve done other things. By no means am I fumbling if the way I commanded Isla last week is any indication. Thoughts of her writhing in my lap rapidly infiltrate my head.

“What brings you around?” The casual question sounds raspy in my suddenly dry throat.

“We’re mending some fence at the Sanctuary. We needed to come into town for supplies and thought we’d stop by,” Lee answers.

I find my water bottle at my desk and use a long drink to carefully choose my response, ignoring the pang of guilt that I’m not there helping them.

“I don’t need you guys to keep checking in on me.”

“Don’t you?” Jack challenges, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because you haven’t been yourself. Not since…”

“Not since I was shot?” I fill in for him.

“Exactly,” Jack returns.

“I’m fine,” I mutter.

“Are you?” Lee adds, the concern in his eyes forcing mine away. I focus on Chevy in Corjan’s arms.

“What a shitty question to ask.” I return my fortified stare at my oldest brother. “Why is it that the rest of you were allowed to be a bunch of grumpy assholes until you got your shit together? What’s so special about me that the minute I decide to take a backseat from providing you all with comedic relief that you act like you’re already planning my funeral?”

Corjan visibly flinches, revealing I’ve gone a smidge too far.

“That’s not fair,” Lee admonishes, slipping into the paternal role he’s played far too many times in the course of my life.

“I didn’t die in those woods.”

“I think part of you did,” Jack says. “We’re just trying to establish which part so we can help you fix it.”

“I don’t want nor need your help with this,” I hiss. “In fact, I’d appreciate that whenever you think you can do something to help, you do the opposite.”

“Pushing us away isn’t going to get you the result you want.” Jack fiddles with the key ring on his finger.

“It sure seemed to work out well for Jude. Seems like I need to be a bigger asshole to get what I want.”

Jack’s face pinches with a scowl at my mention of his twin.

“Or maybe I should be like Corjan and just pretend everything’s all right when we all knew how broken up he was inside.” I level my gaze on him. “For ten years you hid what losing Bree did to you. And we let you have that. Why can’t I fucking have that?”

The three others share a look.

“I don’t think I’m asking a lot for you all to back off.”

“We just want you to know we’re here,” Lee says.

“I know you’re here. You’ve been here since I was twelve and Nancy found me with two black eyes and a broken nose. You think I grew up with all of you and didn’t learn you have my back? Just give me some time to figure my shit out.”

Lee looks like he’s going to say something else, but then lets out a breath and nods. “Okay.”

Jack stops fidgeting with his keys and looks at our oldest brother.

“Okay?” I ask. “No more check-ins, no more pushy texts, no more obligatory invites to hang out?”

“If that’s what you want, we can give that to you.”

My shoulders sag with a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying. “Thank you.” I pick up my headset. “Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

“You’re kicking us out?” Corjan smirks as he moves toward the door.

“Don’t text or call unless it’s an emergency. I’ll reach out to you.”

“What about Sunday dinner at Mom’s?” Jack asks with one foot out the door.

“I’ll be there soon. When I’m ready.”

The club is crowded when I arrive later that evening. Isla’s set has brought in increasingly more people. Week after week, more chairs fill. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if the club hits capacity soon.

I think back to the first night I saw her here. It must have been her return audition. A man dressed in a sharp black suit sat near the front right of the stage with an appraising look on his face. There were only a few men present during the late afternoon hour. It was only a couple weeks after I had found myself seeking the quiet place away from those who knew me well.

The second the music started, I could tell she was different than the other dancers. Her skills were more refined. Her moves tighter. Effortless. She threw her body around as if the pole was an extension of herself.

Before she was finished I tossed back my drink, threw a hundred-dollar bill on the stage, and walked out. It was the first time since I left the hospital that I was entirely captivated by something external.

She quieted the noise.

I went back the next night and the next, seeking the reprieve, until three days later I found her again.

And again I found myself sitting in blissful silence.

With a wave, I flag down the server and order my standard drink. A scowl slips into place as I find my usual seat occupied. I should have arrived earlier, but I lost track of time thinking about what my brothers said. I was trying to do better by not spending the entire evening in a stripper bar, and all I managed was to slip into a shitty mood and lose my preferred seat.

Now some other asshole will get to sit front and center. After what went down between Isla and me last week, the timing couldn’t be worse. I don’t want her to think I’ve lost interest. That I got my fill now that I made her come with only my hands. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I find a spot near the back and stand dead center, leaning against a short partition. With a drink in one hand and the other stuffed in my pocket, I wait for Isla to take the stage. The woman before her collects her tips with a flirty wink and wave.

My pulse kicks up, the beats tapping a swift rhythm in anticipation. The lights change and lower, casting the room in shadow. Just as suddenly as my heart sped up, it slows as Isla sashays across the stage.

I’m captivated during her set. The fifteen-minute show doesn’t sound like much, but with the way the audience roars, they’re eating her up. After working the first song on the pole, she moves into floor work for the next two, and the dollar bills are flying. She rolls from her front to her back, eating up her seductive role when our eyes finally lock across the expansive space.

Her red bra sparkles beneath the spotlight, glittering with every move.

I’m equal parts proud and jealous as she twists and spreads her legs, collecting money beneath her garter belt. Our eyes lock again. Her hand trails from her neck, tracing across her tits, down her stomach. She palms herself in the same way I did just a week ago, staring intently at me as she grinds against her hand.

I lift my glass to my lips, tossing back a tight swallow as I watch her finish her dance. Despite the crowd chanting for an encore, she leaves the stage.

Stella never returns for an encore.

But I’m hoping Isla will.

I find the spot to pay for a dance. Same security guard. Same bored expression.

“Which girl?”

“Stella.”

He shakes his head and looks at me blankly. “Sorry, she’s not taking dances tonight.”

I give him my back while my mind works. She always dances extra on Fridays. Did something happen? I think back to that bachelor party and feel a rush of anger heat my chest.

Hushed voices to my right raise above the music from the main stage. Argued whispers draw my attention around the corner that leads to the back exit.

“Please, Lucien.”

The man I presume to be Lucien scoffs and waves his hand. “You’re fine. What do you think is going to happen?”

I round the corner to find Isla arguing with another security guard. She’s wearing a black oversized sweatshirt and a short pair of light gray shorts, indicating she’s done for the night. Her face is pinched and a thread of fear enters her tone. “This is part of your job!” she hisses.

The sight of this five-foot-nine built man chuckling at her sends my blood boiling. Is this part of the reason she’s called off dancing the rest of the night?

“No, sugar. My job is out there, making sure nobody puts their hands on your pretty little ass. Once you step off that stage, you’re no longer my problem.”

“I’m taking this to Manny.”

“Go ahead. The boss will tell you the same thing. You’re safe here. I don’t know why you’re bitching at me about this.”

“That’s enough.” I move swiftly down the dim hall.

“Who are you?” Lucien asks, blocking my way as if he wasn’t just telling Isla a second ago that she’s not his problem.

“We’re friends,” she says to Lucien, putting a hand on his arm to redirect his attention. Her gaze hits mine before flicking to the floor in… is she embarrassed?

“Ah, well that’s impeccable timing. I’ll leave your friend to help you out.” Lucien smirks before passing me in the hall.

I turn my chin to my shoulder, watching him go. He disappears around the corner with a flick of his fingers.

“Are you all right?” I step closer for privacy without crowding her personal space.

She slings an arm across her chest, and settles the other on her stomach. “I’m okay,” she says quietly.

“You aren’t dancing tonight.”

“You watched my set.” She meets my gaze, confusion swirling in her hazel eyes. They clear and the corner of her mouth twitches. “You tried to buy onto my card.”

I tilt my lips in return. “Is it just me or the whole place can’t get access?”

“It’s not just you.” A heaviness settles over her again. “I—I don’t want to talk here. Can you walk me out?”

“Of course.” I step around her to pull open the exit door. “Does this have anything to do with what you and the security guard were arguing about?”

“I asked for an escort to my car,” she says flatly.

My hand on her elbow stops us beneath the yellow glow of the outside light. “Is someone bothering you?”

The tense line of her shoulders does nothing to alleviate my suspicions. And when she flints her gaze around me, I find myself on high alert.

“Isla,” I urge louder, shaking her elbow.

Her eyes are huge when they return to mine. “Come with me.” She locks our fingers together and tows me behind her. My long strides easily catch up to hers and I follow her quietly to her car while my mind works to solve a puzzle I’m missing pieces to.

The headlights flash on a small two-door sedan, and she tosses her duffel bag in the trunk. Her arms lock protectively across her chest.

“The club got a visit earlier this week from the sheriff. Five women have been murdered in the last two months across the state. All five were strippers,” she says in a rush.

“You’re worried.” I state, reading the tense lines of her face.

“The sheriff says it fits the profile of a serial killer.” The wobble in her voice pierces me in the fucking heart.

“Hey, nothing is going to happen to you.” I tense my fingers where they still wrap around her elbow, wishing I could yank her into a tight hug. Anything to reassure her and wipe that distressed look from her face.

“I know. They just told us today before it hits the general news, so I don’t get why Lucien has to be such a massive dick about it.”

“Forget him. If you need someone to walk you out, you come to me.”

“I didn’t know if after last week…”

“I’ll always be here to walk you out, even if you give me the silent treatment the entire time.”

“I’m not too good at staying silent,” she quips.

I bite back a grin. “Let’s get you home. I don’t like standing out here talking about this.”

“Thank you for walking me out.”

“Get in the car, Isla.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve got it from here, Powell.”

“I know you do. But I’m going to make sure you can walk back in safely too and that means following you home.”