Beg for Mercy (26 page)

No. I know Sean. And just because he hung out here doesn’t make him a sleaze, and it sure as hell doesn’t make him a murderer.

And he’d never mentioned being up here in the VIP room, which was a world away from the dance club and bar scene going on below. This was an orgy waiting to happen, she realized as she watched a man snake his hand up a woman’s skirt while their female companion leaned in to give her an openmouthed kiss.

Megan tottered through the room, her whole body blushing, feeling dirtier and dirtier by the second. She was at a loss as to how to jump in and start asking questions. Not to mention, the people in here were so sexed up and drugged out, it was unlikely they’d register their own names, much less Bianca’s.

The handful of staff that catered unobtrusively to the
crowd watched her curiously. When Megan showed them Bianca’s picture, she was told politely but firmly that here in the VIP room they were known for their discretion.

Frustrated, Megan was just about to give up and slink home on her aching feet when she spotted the woman from the bathroom ducked in a booth near the back of the room. She was with a man, and before Megan could approach, the couple stood and disappeared behind a heavy black velvet curtain hanging along the back wall.

Megan darted a quick look over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching and followed suit.

Behind the curtain was a dimly lit corridor, and as Megan stepped through the curtain, she saw the blonde and the man disappear through a door. Her heels echoed as she hurried to follow, but when she tried the handle, she realized the door was locked. She looked closer and saw that the door was protected by some kind of keycard security system.

She jiggled the handle and smacked the door with her bare hand. “Hello? Is anybody back there—”

Brutal hands gripped her bare shoulders and whipped her around. Before she could so much as breathe in the air to scream, a huge hand covered her mouth, crushing her lips against her teeth as she was shoved up against the door.

Though she couldn’t make out his face in the dim light, she recognized that clipped voice immediately. “What part of ‘authorized personnel only’ don’t you understand?”

M
egan relaxed only marginally as Jack lifted his hand off her mouth and eased his hold enough that she wasn’t crushed against the wall. “Do you know that girl out there? The blonde?” Megan said, figuring it couldn’t hurt.

He rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. Without a word, he pulled her back into the VIP room, his hand wrapped around her upper arm in a viselike grip as he propelled her across the floor.

“What’s back there? Where did she go?”

“None of your business.” He looked tough and scary in his black T-shirt and pants, the shadow of his beard dusting his jaw. In the low light of the VIP room, the snake on his tattoo seemed to pulse and writhe as his fist clenched and unclenched in frustration.

“I wasnct doing anything—”

“I’ve been watching you for the last hour. It’s time for you to go.”

She tried to yank her arm from his grip, noticing the way the people in the VIP room looked up to watch as Jack marched her to the door. With every step, her heels threatened to buckle. “You don’t have to manhandle me,” she spat as he shoved her toward the door.

“Yeah, I do, because apparently you can’t take a hint. You’re not welcome around here. And the next time you show up and harass customers with your questions about dead girls, I’m not going to be so nice.”

“You call this nice?” she said as he dragged her out to the main part of the floor.

“I didn’t break anything, did I?”

“Get your hands off her, asshole.”

Megan jumped at the masculine roar behind her. Her stomach did a little flip when she recognized Cole.

Jack released her arm, and the two men squared off like heavyweight fighters circling the ring. “She with you?”

“Yeah,” Cole said, and slid a proprietary arm around Megan’s waist. Heat surged through her, arousal mixing with adrenaline, making her legs tremble so hard she had to lean against Cole for support.

“You should keep a better eye on her. She has a bad habit of turning up in places she shouldn’t.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed and his lips stretched into a smile that looked more like a snarl. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jack stepped back and she saw him nod to someone behind her. Megan turned and caught a glimpse of Talia Vega before she melted into the dark periphery of the club.

“Get her out of here,” Jack said to Cole, though his cold, hard stare was locked on Megan. “And if you want to keep her safe, don’t let her come back.”

Megan shrank against Cole under the blast of that icy blue glare and didn’t protest as he tightened his arm around her waist and steered her to the staircase.

She braced herself for him to lay into her, blast her for dressing like a slut and risking pissing people off by show
ing up where she wasn’t welcome and shoving Bianca’s picture in everyone’s faces. But Cole was grimly silent as he guided her down the stairs, other than a harsh “Careful” when she staggered on her heel and would have taken a header down the metal stairs had he not grabbed hold of her elbow.

As they reached the teeming mass on the first floor, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She whirled on him, figuring the best defense was a good offense. “Why are you following me?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Because like the guy said, you seem to have a knack for getting yourself into trouble lately.”

“It’s not your job to keep me out of trouble, Cole.”

He flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Since I’ve been suspended for leaking Bianca’s identity before Tasso released it, I have a lot of free time.”

Megan felt a stab of guilt. He must have been going crazy, not being able to work the case and, worse, knowing his career hung in the balance because of her recklessness. “I know it doesn’t help, but I’m really sorry. You know I didn’t mean to mess anything up for you this time.”

“Yeah, we’re all sorry about a lot of things,” he said as he steered her to an empty table near the end of the bar. Megan hung her purse on the back of the chair he pulled out and took a seat. “Now, how about you tell me what the hell you thought you’d accomplish by coming here.”

Megan darted a nervous glance around the club. “Shouldn’t we go? Jack was pretty adamant….”

Cole shrugged his broad shoulders, unconcerned. “I’m not worried about him.”

That makes one of us.

He flagged down a waitress and ordered a round of drinks, a single malt for himself and an extra-dirty vodka martini for her, extra olives.

Megan tried to tell herself there was no significance in the fact he remembered her favorite cocktail.

“How do you know that guy?” Cole said, an edge creeping into his voice.

“I met him here last week, right after Bianca was murdered. I came here to find out if they knew anything. If there was any way…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“If you didn’t find out anything then, why come back tonight?”

Megan shifted in her chair, grateful when the waitress appeared with the drinks. It took two bracing gulps of icy vodka before she could bring herself to meet Cole’s dark cop stare. She leaned across the small lacquered table even though no one was likely to hear her over the music. “I found something in Bianca’s house.”

Cole’s hand smashed down on the table hard enough to make the ice in his glass jump. “Please tell me you told Tasso and Lieutenant Chin.”

“It really wasn’t much of anything, just a cocktail napkin—”

“For fuck’s sake, Megan! Breaking and entering? Removing items from a victim’s residence—”

Megan put a hand up in defense. “I didn’t remove anything, I swear! I was looking through some clothes in one of the closets and found a Club One cocktail napkin.” She held up the one that came with her drink for emphasis. “But I left it there, for you guys to find. And I left the pic
ture of Bianca from the Web site too,” she said, as though it had just occurred to her.

“What Web site?” Cole asked, his voice grim.

“I think it might have been advertising an escort service,” Megan said, “but I uldn’t access it.” She ignored the pinch of guilt for not providing all of the details about the site and her suspicions about the blonde.

“And you didn’t mention this when you were questioned because…”

Megan shrugged. “People tend to clam up once the police get involved, and even if they did talk, the cops aren’t looking for the answers I need.” She tilted her chin up, refusing to feel like a scolded teenager under his censure. “If Agent Tasso and the task force decide those are leads worth following, I haven’t done anything to stop them. Besides,” she said, heaviness settling over her shoulders as she took another drink, “no one here seems to know much of anything.” Or if they do, she thought as the blonde’s face flashed in her mind, they’re not inclined to talk about it. “But maybe Tasso and Chin will have more luck than I did.”

“No matter what, Megan, you’ve got to promise me you’ll stop doing this. If you’re not careful, you’re looking at an obstruction-of-justice charge.”

She looked at him across the table, his expression both frustrated and concerned. For her. When he looked at her like that, she wanted to promise him anything he asked.

“I need to go,” she said, jumping abruptly from her chair. Another sip of vodka and this night was going to end very, very badly.

His big hand clamped down on her arm. “Wait. Promise me you’ll stop.”

She shook her head. “I’m out of options, Cole. If I think there’s any way I can help Sean, I’m going to do it.”

“Then let me help you. I’m a detective. This is what I do.”

She smiled thinly. “Really? You’ll help me prove the innocence of a man you believe with every fiber of your being is guilty?”

His dark gaze didn’t waver. “I’ll help you find the truth, whatever it is.”

She wanted to believe him. She so badly wanted to have someone to help her through this.

Not just anyone, she admitted to herself. She wanted Cole. She wanted to be back in that place with him where she could trust, where she felt safe, protected, and though he’d never said it out loud, loved.

But there was no going back, and as much as she wished she could take him at his word, Cole was a cop, first, last, and always, suspension or not. He would help her only as much as it helped him protect his job.

“Promise me,” he prodded. “Promise you’ll call me before you go off chasing another crazy lead.”

“I’ll think about it.” She paused. “And if I do, will you promise to stop tailing me all over the place?”

His lips curved into a half smile as he rose from his chair. “I’ll think about it.”

He walked her to the front of the club, retrieved their coats from the coat check, and walked Megan to her car. She rummage through her purse for her key, flustered at the way he stood so close, blocking her in, keeping her safe, his gaze constantly scanning for danger that might come from any corner.

He snatched the key from her hand, unlocked the door, and reached for the door handle. This brought his face
level with hers, so close she could smell the sandalwood scent of his aftershave, the smoky aroma of scotch on the breath that wafted across her cheek. He paused there for several seconds, and she could feel the coiled tension emanating from his body.

A quarter turn and her lips would be on his…

The door latch clicked, and the door swung open. Megan slid into the driver’s seat. “Drive safe,” Cole said, and closed the door.

Megan wasn’t surprised to see Cole’s headlights tailing her home or to see his Jeep pull up behind her. She shook her head as she got out of the car. Even if she’d been suspicious of him following her, she would have been looking for an unmarked Crown Vic. At least now she knew what to look for.

“You don’t have to come up with me,” she protested as Cole opened his door.

He gave her a hard look and held out his hand for her keys.

Megan handed them over, too tired to argue, and led him up the stairs. He unlocked her door, opened it, and ducked his head in for a quick look around before he moved out of the way.

Her chest went tight at the small gesture of chivalry. It had surprised her at first, that under his hard, almost gruff exterior lived a gentleman who opened doors for her, held her arm when they crossed a street, and never let her walk alone into a dark apartment. She hadn’t realized until that second how much she’d missed the feeling of having someone look after her.

“Well, good night,” she said hastily before her case of the warm fuzzies made her do something stupid.

“Hey,” he said, catching her by the shoulder before she could go inside. His hand rested there, in the curve where her neck and shoulder met. His thumb stroked along her collarbone as he looked at her with an expression of lust… but there was something else there too. Something she knew would send her right into his arms if she thought too hard about it. “You don’t have to do this on your own. But I can’t help you if you keep things from me.”

He bent his head, and she braced herself to push him away even as her lips tingled in anticipation of tasting his. But his lips landed on her forehead instead, warm and comforting and somehow even harder to resist than if he’d gone for all-out seduction.