Lush, steely vibrations circled the Vixen Club, resonating sweet to Gavin’s ears. He loved heavy bass music with electric guitars and endless riffs, the louder the better. Especially these days. Knowing his new job came with great ambiance made the decision to come here a little easier.

But not by much.

He blamed his blown-out knee and subsequent limp for his indecisiveness.

Retired Army. Two words he never considered alongside his name. At least not until he was in his sixties. Thirty-seven years old and forced to take early retirement after invading a terrorist cell in Afghanistan, uncertain if it was a trap. But seeing three young boys inside that building…he had no choice. Bomb or no bomb, he rushed into the falling down structure and had the last boy in his arms when the bomb went off.

Two months later, he awoke from his coma. He’d learned that all three boys had survived, though with some cuts and bruises, and had found peace with the fact that he’d done his job right. But he’d lost ten percent hearing in both ears, a crushed knee, and shrapnel still in parts of his right leg that were too embedded in bone and tissue to remove. The doctors had done everything they could without amputating.

Gavin had Sean to thank for that.

Friends since college, through combat training, and on every mission of their careers, he and Sean had endured a lot together. When doctors said it would be best to amputate his leg, Sean had opposed the decision and convinced the surgeon that Gavin would rather die than be without a limb.

How true that statement was. He owed Sean a lot. Which was why he stood within the shadows of the Vixen Club. To repay a debt he owed.

Enjoying the music, his fingers beat against his thigh. He scanned the room.

The place was bigger than expected. A stage took up a full wall at the front. Red, heavy curtains hung in the middle of the room, and from what he could see through an open spot between the drapes, there were mirrors behind them. A dark crack between the glass surprised him.

Huh, a doorway behind the glass? Must be how the dancers come and go.

Tables and chairs spread out from wall to wall. Jesus, there had to be eighty-some tables. How many people came to see women dance on stage, lip-sync, tease, and pout their way into tips?

Gavin strode to the bar at the top end of the room. Favoring his leg, he eased onto a stool and faced the stage. Two fairly tall, slender women stretched out their calves and backs. Leotards barely covered their ass-cheeks.

A man could get used to seeing such fine flesh every day.

Lucky for him, he’d been roped into being here. He’d make the most of the rash decision by appreciating the view.

The music picked up tempo, filling the area with rapid rhythms and a lot of bass.

Rock beats from a single on the last Nickelback album shook the floor. He couldn’t keep from tapping against the bar. His Army regimen played the band’s albums continuously. Hell, they were all Canadian and had to support home-country talent.

A blur of red and black rushing out on stage caught his attention. A woman skulked along at the front of the stage, bending, twirling, and angling her hot, sexy bod. She would no doubt capture every man’s attention when she performed.

Gavin swallowed hard, his eyes peeled to the sexy display in front of him.

Red sports bra and tight spandex shorts barely contained her curvy, tanned body dancing at lightning speed around the stage. Long, toned legs stretched, and her body twirled the pole as if it was made for her. Though she wore barely-there spandex, she didn’t give off a stripper vibe. Her thighs clung to the metal, showing off strong muscles. Without moving her legs from the pole, she let go with her hands and planted them firmly on the floor. She moved like a worm as she stayed suspended, the pole between her legs as her arms held her up. Her tight, large breasts were so tempting. His mouth watered.

The woman was skilled and in-tune with her body and with what she had to offer.

And boy, if she didn’t have a lot to offer.

Her breasts were definitely more than a handful, which was just how he liked them. Small, medium, large, and bountiful…as long as he could stick his dick in between the mounds and fuck them till his load burst all over a woman’s chin, lips, chest, neck, and in her hair. He loved to see his pleasure all over a woman.

His mouth watered because of the seductive goddess on stage.

Her long, dark, wavy hair clung to her face and shoulders, spinning around as much as she did. Bends, kicks, gymnast moves…he was impressed.

With a flick of her hair, she turned and glanced back over her shoulder, her hips swaying to the distinct bass. Facing the empty seats, she covered the stage, her movements skilled and quick. He watched, transfixed at the many steps, and could only guess at the training this woman needed to have in order to make it look so easy.

As the song ended, she bent at the waist, breathing deep. Her gaze caught on his.

He drew in a deep breath.

Damn, those dark depths laser-focused on his, holding him in place. Desire coursed through him, pulling at him to forget his reason for being here and find out more about her.

Beautiful. He loved everything about her gorgeous face. From her high cheek bones to the perfectly shaped lips that looked luscious and tasty from where he sat. And what he wouldn’t give to claim the first taste. Of those lips and anywhere else from head to toe.

Heavy pulses drew him from his thoughts and the beauty walked off the stage.

He squelched the desire to follow her. Sighing, he cursed himself. Getting a hard-on for some strange chick wasn’t what he’d signed up for by coming here. He had to keep his head in the game. But the image of her bent over while he drove into her over and over again burned in his mind. He adjusted himself behind the zipper of his jeans.