Heat (The Stark Affair Book 1) by Skylar Cross Read Free Book Online Page A

kitchen.
    Another
speech hits me, and again I stop myself. There’s no point. I’ve said it all too
many times.
    “Come
back soon, now,” he says.
    I
put my head down and turn back to the door.
    Then
I walk out without saying goodbye and head to the gym.
     

Chapter
7

 
 
    Sofia

 
    Maybe parking four blocks
away from Heat was a mistake. My feet just do not work in these goddamned heels.
    Whatever.
I’ll deal. I do whatever it takes. I’m on assignment. Well, sort of.
    Halle Berry walking out of the ocean, Sofia. Swing and sway, swing and sway.
    Worst
part of this whole thing is that I had to leave my gun at home. I feel truly
naked without it.
    Had
no choice. Won’t fit in my purse... and certainly not anywhere else on me.
    Fine.
Shouldn’t need it anyway. This isn’t a bust.
    I’ve
already gotten ten whistles and one deadbeat hitting on me as I walk along
Ocean Drive toward the club in this... I don’t know what to call it... thing I’m wearing. Not enough material
for a dress really.
    Do
hot girls really want this much attention? They must if they walk around naked
like this. I’m the opposite. I want everyone to leave me the fuck alone.
    Whatever.
This is the job. I am a predator, and if it means wearing heels to get to my
prey, I’ll fucking wear heels.  
    I
hear the thumping music from inside as I stand on the same corner Jorge and I
walked past yesterday. I notice a side door with a little ramp leading out onto
the cross street.
    My
heart is beating a little fast. So fucking ridiculous. I wasn’t this nervous
the night a thug locked me in a storage container behind a mall and I had to
wait for Mike to get me out.
    Relax, Sofia. Chill.
    I
clutch my ridiculous little purse, take a deep breath, and head to the door.
    There
is a line stretching around the corner. Three large bouncers are stationed at
three strategic spots while the doorman, who is the biggest, plays the silly please-oh-please-let-me-in game.
    Three
guys in a tricked-out red 1984 Olds Cutlass shout various phrases
simultaneously as they pass me heading north. I can make out “ass to take home,”
“beautiful,” and “lick it sideways.”
    I
give them the finger. They’re lucky. I’m really in the mood to slam my fist
into somebody’s face tonight, but I’m focused on my job.
    “ Oooh , tough mamí ,” says the driver, as their ridiculous car bounces
along to their next target.
    Have
I mentioned I hate South Beach?
    Now,
the line... I’ve never understood the fucking line. I don’t wait to get into
any place where I need to be on a guest list or pre-approved in any way.
Fucking club bullshit never made any sense to me.
    I
have a plan all worked up for the door. I’m going to walk to the head of the
line, tell the doorman that I was here earlier and went in with my friends but
somehow got out the side door.
    He’ll
buy that, right? Probably not, but it’s worth a try.
    I
picture Halle Berry walking out of the ocean again and head toward him, ready
to start my line of bullshit. Swing and sway. Swing and sway.
    I’ll
never know if it would have worked or not because he just smiles at me, opens
the door, and motions me in.
    No shit, really?
    “Thank
you,” I say, clipping my words as I walk inside.
    Well, that was just way too fucking easy now,
wasn’t it?
    As
soon as I get inside, I understand why.
    The
line outdoors was mostly guys and blondes. In here the girls are 95% Latina.
Orders from Colton Stark, no doubt. The ratio is more even for the smattering
of guys inside, about 50-50.
    Guess
all you really need to get into Heat is to look like... well, me, I guess.
    Never
thought I’d say that. A tiny part of me smiles, but I squash it.
    I
move through the thick crowd. Place is packed. Music is way too loud.
Multi-colored laser lights bounce around the ceiling. Models in fetish-wear
pose as Eastern European police while... frozen ? ... in blocks of
ice . They can’t be really frozen. They’d die. Must be a visual