At 5'11, Olivia was the last person who should've been wearing stilettos. Truthfully, she was more a combat boot kind of girl. Classy that she was. But her target in particular seemed to have a thing for something called "Glamazons," which she took to mean slutty tall bimbos. And damn did she feel like one. Glammed up in a dress that better qualified as a bandana, her long legs were stretched for miles, though her tan did indeed look great against the oceanesque teal of the dress. It did not make her at all happy that her ample breasts practically spilled out the top. Probably would at some point if she wasn't careful to watch how she moved. Only at her insistence had her team opted out of teasing her hair into some sassy afro, smoothing it instead into a perfectly smooth top ponytail, the once black now dyed maroon wave snapping back and forth like a whip when she made sharp turns. That she liked. Her brown eyes did a quick scan of the bar but she didn't find what she was looking for. Well who. She must have arrived early. Which gave her a chance to take a load off, which she did sitting on bar stool, careful not to flash the whole damn place. Because of course the dress was too short for panties as well. As soon as she was settled on the stool, her phone chirped, the only thing she normally carried that fit in the poor excuse for a purse that went with her outfit. Picking it up, she opened the text, rolling her eyes at the entire paragraph waiting for her. The summary of which was that her target was not there yet. A presence at her backside had her tensing up, a hand working its way down her back to cup her ass.
"Move it if you want to keep it," she snarled, lips curling as she turned slightly to face the hand's owner.
Only to have another hand sieze the back of her neck, the hold painful but hidden mostly by her cascading ponytail.
"Your boss has a lot of nerve."
The voice was quiet, a hint of bemusement in it however.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Olivia said.
At least she could be honest when she said that. Because there was no possible way her cover was blown, not so soon. She could feel the fabric of her dress being pulled up to expose her ass but the hand on her neck was like a rock.
"McKibben won't be here tonight."
The second voice was deeper but equally as amused.
"He sends his regrets, of course."
Fuck. She almost swore, biting down on her lip as a finger found its way right up her butt. All she could do was let out a ragged breath, having no choice as the hand guided her back into the rockish arms of a thug who'd clearly never not spent a moment at the gym. He was pure muscle. But at least he didn't have a hold on her neck anymore. His companion, who'd decided to finger her, pulled her dress back down. He was grinning but boy did he have a face only a mother could love. He wasn't as built as his taller counterpart but there was some muscle to him. His brown hair was short and slicked back, giving him a professional look that his impish grin did not. Back against her other captor, she could tell he was at least 6'2, if not taller. But that was all of him she could judge.
"Elevator, now," he commanded, practically frog marching her forward.
"I've never even heard of McKibben," she said, holding tight to her story.
She didn't have a read on things and had to hope something could be salvaged from the operation.
"Sure you haven't," the imp chuckled, hitting the elevator button.
"I just came for a drink. Maybe some dancing."
Neither responded to her as she was shoved in the elevator, the attendant instantly looking nervous. Against the wall of the elevator, she could now see the bigger man. And yeah, he was terrifyingly big. His hair had been buzzed close to his head and he looked weathered, as if he'd never been inside. If she had a weapon, something she insisted on, she may have had a chance. But she was pretty sure he could kill her with one punch if he so chose.
"This elevator is out of order," he informed the attendant who nodded quickly, all but hurrying out.
