Luke watched from across the dimly lit club, his grip tightening around his glass as his eyes tracked Riley. She looked stunning—breathtaking even—in the tiny black outfit they'd forced her into. The way the lingerie hugged her curves made his blood heat, had him thinking things that a training officer had no business thinking about their rookie. All he could think about was untying that little bow at the back with his teeth. Or seeing what those stockings felt like against the sides of his head.

It was taking every ounce of his self control to remain seated instead of taking her away from this place and claiming her as his. Seeing her like this made him want her impossibly more, but it also made his stomach churn with rage. Everyone else in this place could see her too. Every sleazebag in the room had their eyes on her, and he could see the lewd looks they gave her, the same ones they gave the other girls. He clenched his jaw, trying to control the anger that simmered under his skin.

He saw her walk away from a group of particularly rowdy men, her steps a little too stiff, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she held her tray close. She was putting on a brave face, but Luke could read her too well. They'd pushed her too far tonight. The sight of her being disrespected like that gnawed at him. His protective instincts roared to life, and it took every scrap of restraint he had left not to storm over there and rip their eyes out for daring to look at her.

Instead, he forced himself to stay in character, leaning back in his seat with a cold, indifferent expression. The men he was with—part of his undercover op—talked about work, moving shipments, and other shady business, but Luke was only half-listening. His attention kept drifting back to Riley, to the way she moved, to the way she fought to keep it together. His stomach churned as he thought about how she must feel, how uncomfortable she must be, as he sat by and did nothing. One of the guys at his table nudged him, and Luke forced himself to snap out of it.

"See that one?" the man said, jerking his head toward Riley as she passed by their table. "She's got legs for days. Bet she'd give a hell of a dance."

Luke's jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. He let out a low chuckle, forcing himself to play along, to hide the storm raging inside him. "Yeah, looks like it."

But inside, he was seething. Every word the guy said made him want to snap his neck. Luke could barely focus on the conversation around him, the others talking shop while his eyes were glued to Riley, watching her struggle to maintain her composure. She served another table, her back straight, her face a mask of indifference, but Luke knew her better. He could see the strain in her posture, the slight tremor in her hands when she thought no one was looking.

One of the guys in his group called her over, his voice loud and crass. "Hey, sweetheart! Come over here for a minute."

Luke's heart pounded as she approached, her eyes flicking toward him for the briefest of moments before she slipped back into her role. She smiled—a forced, tight smile—and asked them what they wanted. The men around him ogled her, making crude jokes and throwing out orders like she was a servant. Luke stayed silent, his fury simmering just beneath the surface as he watched her.

She turned to him, finally able to make eye contact. Her voice was sultry and playful in spite of the tension in her spine as she took his order. "And you?"

He swallowed thickly, looking into her eyes, silently begging her to pull out of the op and go home. He fought to keep his mask of indifference in place.

"Just a beer," he said after a few moments, his voice coming out more hoarse than intended.

She nodded with a small smile, then left and returned with their drinks. She moved with practiced ease, but Luke noticed the tension in her every step. One of the guys—he didn't even know his name, didn't care—leaned forward, leering at her.

"How much for a lap dance, sweetheart?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

Riley hesitated, and Luke saw the flicker of discomfort in her eyes before she hid it. She tried to brush it off, giving a polite but firm response about just serving drinks tonight, but the guy wasn't having it. He kept pushing, kept insisting, and Luke could see the conflict in her face—whether to stay firm or play along to keep her cover.

Before she could make a decision, Luke's temper finally snapped. He reached out, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly, and pulled her down onto his lap. Before anyone could say anything, he stuffed a hundred dollar bill into the tip cup on her tray.

"You snooze, you lose." Luke said, smirking at him. His voice was calm, but carried an edge of steel. "I don't share."

The guy blinked, surprised, but he raised his hands in surrender with a shrug. "Alright, man, didn't know she was claimed."

Riley was tense in his lap, her body stiff against his, but she didn't pull away. As the conversation around them shifted back to business, Luke let his hand rest lightly on her waist, feeling the tension gradually seep out of her as she relaxed, just slightly, into him. His thumb brushed over the fabric of her outfit, and for a moment, everything else in the club—the noise, the men, the danger—faded away. It was just them, tangled in the mess of their undercover lives, and Luke didn't care about anything else.

His heart raced as Riley shifted slightly on his lap, doing her best to play along. He could feel the unease in her every movement, the way her eyes darted around the room, scanning for threats, while trying to ignore the attention they were drawing. His hand rested on her knee, and without thinking, he gently began rubbing his thumb back and forth across her skin—small, soothing movements meant to calm her, even though inside, he was anything but calm. Every inch of him was hyper-aware of how close she was, how soft she felt against him, and it took all his restraint to keep his focus on the job and maintain his composure.

Despite her discomfort, he could sense Riley's trust in him. She leaned into him, her fingers gripping his shirt lightly, as if grounding herself. They were surrounded by eyes, but for a moment, it felt like it was just them. As much as he wanted to stay like this, he knew it couldn't last. He glanced down at her. His lips brushed her ear as his head dipped, keeping his voice low enough that only she could hear.

"You okay?" he murmured, his concern breaking through his hardened exterior for just a moment.

Riley didn't meet his eyes, but she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Yeah... I'm fine."

But Luke knew better. He could feel the strain in her, the weight of everything they were both carrying. And even though they were playing a dangerous game, he wasn't sure how much longer he could watch her go through this without stepping in for real.

________________________________________________

Riley POV

Riley sat rigidly on Luke's lap, her body betraying her with how stiff she felt. It wasn't the position that bothered her, it was everything else—the eyes, the assumptions, the way she was dressed. She didn't want him seeing her like this. Not Luke. He was always the one in control, the one who knew her better than anyone else. The thought of him looking at her in that outfit, in this environment, made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

And yet, at the same time, there was a strange comfort in his arms. The way he held her, solid and unwavering, arm wrapped possessively around her waist, made her feel like for the first time all night, she could breathe. His thumb was absentmindedly brushing against her hip, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her back grounded her. Despite everything, she felt safe with him.

Riley's breath hitched as Luke's fingers traced small circles on her leg, a gesture that looked innocent enough to anyone watching but sent a jolt of awareness through her. It was just part of the act, she reminded herself, just part of the job. But damn, it was hard to ignore the way her body was reacting to being this close to him.

The moment of calm didn't last long.

"Hey, Greg's looking for you," came the sharp voice of one of the waitresses, cutting through her thoughts like a knife.

Riley's heart sank. She wasn't ready to go back out there. She could handle it, she had been handling it, but right now, the last thing she wanted was to slip back into that fake smile, to keep pretending like none of this was getting to her.

And as if on cue, Greg sauntered over, eyes scanning her outfit with clear satisfaction. "You're not getting paid to sit around, sweetheart," he said, a smirk on his face as he crossed his arms. "I need you out there keeping customers happy."

Before Riley could open her mouth to protest, Luke's voice cut through the tension, low and firm. "I'm a customer," he growled, the edge of steel in his voice impossible to miss. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a hundred-dollar bill and handing it to Greg.

Greg looked at the bill, then at Luke, weighing his options. After a moment, he shrugged, pocketing the money with a nod. "Fine, fine. Just make sure she's back on the floor when you're done with her."

Riley exhaled, relief and embarrassment swirling inside her. She didn't want Luke to have to buy her time, but she also knew how easily Greg could make things harder for her. She sank a little deeper into Luke's lap, as if trying to disappear, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.

The next hour passed in a blur of conversation. Luke was casual, effortlessly blending in with the men he was with, discussing shipments and their next moves like he was one of them. All the while, Riley sat in his lap, trying her best to relax, but it was hard with the constant undercurrent of tension in the room. She could feel the weight of every gaze, every whispered comment, even when Luke's presence shielded her from the worst of it.

Just as things seemed to settle, a drunk guy stumbled over from across the room, his eyes narrowing as they landed on her.

"Hey, man," he slurred, pointing a finger at Luke. "You've had her all night. Aren't you gonna share?"

Riley's stomach twisted, the words hitting her like a punch. She braced herself, ready for the usual lewd comments or worse, but Luke's body tensed beneath her, his entire demeanor shifting.

Luke slowly turned his head to face the man, staring him down as he silently took a sip of his drink. The man shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I don't share," Luke finally said, his voice low and dangerous. The kind of tone that brooked no argument.

The drunk guy blinked, clearly taken aback, but before he could say anything more, Luke gave him a look that made him pale and back away, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before disappearing into the crowd.

Luke stood abruptly, lifting Riley off his lap as he did. "We're leaving," he muttered under his breath. The other guys at the table whistled and hooted after them as Luke guided her toward the VIP rooms at the back of the club. His grip on her arm was gentle but firm, and Riley didn't bother protesting. She was too shaken to argue, too grateful to be out of the crowd.

Once they were alone in the dimly lit room, the door closing behind them with a quiet click, Luke's entire facade dropped. The indifferent, undercover version of him evaporated, replaced by the Luke she knew. The Luke who worried, who cared too much.

"Are you okay?" His voice was rough, his eyes searching hers for any sign of weakness. "Tell me you're okay, Riley."

She tried to nod, to offer some reassurance, but she couldn't quite manage it. Instead, her eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm fine," she whispered, though even she didn't believe it.

Luke wasn't having it. He reached for her, his hands steady as he cupped her face. "You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice thick with frustration and concern. "You shouldn't be doing this."

"I don't have a choice," Riley shot back, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding in. "Not when we're so close. The fifteenth is two weeks away, Luke. We can't pull out now."

"I don't care," he said, shaking his head, his grip on her tightening slightly. "I don't care about the fifteenth, or the damn shipments, or this entire operation. I care about you. This place... it's—" He broke off, the words hanging heavy between them. "I need you safe."

She tried to be strong, tried to brush it off like she always did, but the concern in his eyes, the way his hands were holding her like she might break—it was too much. The walls she had so carefully built around herself started to crumble.

"I... I felt so uncomfortable," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I hated every second of it."

Luke's expression softened, and without another word, he tugged his shirt off, handing it to her. "Here," he said softly. "Put this on."

Riley hesitated for only a moment before slipping the oversized shirt over her head, the soft fabric a welcome barrier between her and the world. She wandered to the couch and tentatively sat down, hugging the shirt around herself, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the scent of him lingering on it.

Luke paced the VIP room, running his hands through his hair, his face drawn tight with frustration. When he finally stopped, standing in front of her, his voice was low and tormented. "I'm sorry, Riley. I had to just sit there and watch...watch them treat you like an object, like you were nothing. I'm so sorry." He crouched down in front of her, his hands hovering near her knees, as if he wanted to touch her but didn't know if he should. "I need you to know I didn't mean any of those disgusting things I said."

Her composure broke. All the tension, the discomfort, the humiliation she'd swallowed down all night came rushing out in a choked sob. Luke pulled her into his arms, his embrace strong and solid, and she clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder. She didn't cry often, but tonight it felt like the dam had burst. "I'm fine," she muttered, trying to convince herself more than him.

"You're not fine," Luke said, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. "You're coming back with me. Now."

She wiped her face and shook her head. "Luke, I can't. My shift isn't over. I'll lose my cover."

"Greg can take it up with me." His tone left no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Riley nodded. She stood up, her legs feeling like lead as she headed to the locker room to change. She handed Luke his shirt back with a faint smile. "Thanks for the loan."

On their way out, Greg was waiting near the back door, his beady eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Where's she going?" he asked, glancing between the two of them.

Luke stepped forward, his presence suddenly menacing. He leaned down just enough so his words hit Greg with full force. "You know who I am, yeah?" His voice was dangerously low.

Greg shifted uneasily, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, I've seen you around here after hours."

"From now on, she's bartending. You got a problem with that?"

Greg blinked, startled, his face turning a shade paler. "No... no problem."

Luke clapped him on the back, a little too hard, causing Greg to stumble forward slightly, before guiding Riley out. The tension between them hung in the air like a weight neither of them could shake.

******************

Author's Note:

FINALLY a Luke POV!! I hope you all liked reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Things are getting spicy... ESPECIALLY in the next chapter ;) Don't say I didn't warn y'all