Key of Solomon: Relic Defender, Book 1 Read Online Free Page A

torment. Even as she moved, she knew she’d never danced as well as she did now. Certainly never for a particular man.
    When the last scrap of gauze floated to the ground, she bent backward, a final flourish, knowing as she did so, she delivered a message. For him. Only him. All she had to do was step off the stage and…
    The tinkle and crash of shattering glass, followed by a woman’s squeal, snapped Lexi out of her trance. She swallowed over a dry throat and blinked rapidly. What the hell had just happened? Had she really come close to going to that man?
    God help her, she was losing her mind.
    Another loud protest, this one with the desperate edge of fear, thrust aside her worries over her sanity. She ripped her gaze from the man and straightened. A hitch of her shoulders and shake of her head wiped away the cottony sensation of disorientation.
    Ignoring the complaining men who demanded an encore, she lifted up to her tiptoes and scanned the somber room for the source of the feminine cry. Terror framed the shrill sound.
    A short distance from the stage, Samantha Jones, one of the waitresses clutched her tray tight against her low cut, skin-hugging blouse. Three men surrounded her. One man, built lean but with a bulbous nose and pointed chin, held Sam by the upper arm. The wince on her face told Lexi the jerk’s grip was bruising.
    She stiffened, her gaze fixed on Sam. The waitress’s pale blonde hair glinted under the dim lights. Barely topping out at five two, she had a heart-shaped face, blue eyes and a full, rounded figure. Polar opposite to Lexi’s tall, athletic form, dark hair and faded brown eyes. In attitude too. Sam was all sweet and goodness. Lexie was…not.
    She searched the pale faces around Sam and in the audience beyond. Where the hell was Gary? The head bouncer’s skyscraping, bruiser form was nowhere to be seen among the caterwauling sea of men. In fact, she didn’t see any bouncers.
    “Let go of me,” Sam cried out for a third time.
    The jerk dragged her closer. By this time, the other men at the table had stood. Now five men besieged Sam. Shit. The terror on her face left Lexi’s own gut clenching in response.
    She recognized the helpless awareness, the knowledge you weren’t strong enough to handle what happened to you. She’d never forget the icy fingers of fear squeezing her insides or the pressure of her own heart pounding so hard she wondered why it hadn’t leaped from her chest.
    Dark memories surrounded her, tearing at her with sharp claws as if trying to find a chink in the barrier that kept them at bay. Kept them from flooding her system with the panic she vaguely remembered, but never wanted to feel again. Refused to feel again.
    Instead of succumbing, Lexi took a steadying breath and narrowed her gaze on the jerk. Before she had a chance to think about what she was doing, to consider what it meant to get involved, she jumped down from the stage. She shoved through the crowd, shrugging off the clammy hands fumbling at her with a few well-placed elbow jabs. The nauseous scents of sweat, beer and the acrid bite of smoke churned around her as she pushed her way to the small group.
    “Get your hands off her,” she said, through a throat tight with anger. “Now.”
    Five men, make that five lust-and-alcohol-crazed men, turned from Sam and faced Lexi. For a minute, common sense and self-preservation clicked in her mind. What the hell was she doing? She wore nothing but her dance bra and pantaloons. And bare feet. Not even good kicking power. Way to think ahead, Lex .
    Bloodshot eyes focused on her. Brows lifted. He released Sam’s arm and thrust her aside. Under the low lighting, an overabundance of alcohol made his face appear sallow and his downturned lips pouty. Faint stubble along a not-so-strong jaw line and the pungent scent of sweat mixed with some sort of heavy cologne reminiscent of Ralph Lauren’s Polo completed the picture.
    “Hey, babe, you’re hot.” The words