Jamie Hill Triple Threat (33 page)

Music started and he peered at the stage. A dancer in a short, white nurse's uniform strutted into the spotlight and gyrated around the pole positioned center-stage. She had blazing red hair and a set of knockers that were ready to burst out of her costume. Brady watched for a moment then returned his attention to Gina, who chatted with the bartender across the room.

Her hair was coal black, and fell into loose ringlets around her shoulders. It had a glossy shine, looking very pretty and natural. He looked back at the stage, where the stripper was making her way out of her uniform. The dancer's hair color rivaled Yosemite Sam's.

"You like redheads?"

Brady jumped as Gina set his drink in front of him. He'd been staring off into space, and missed her arrival. "They're okay. I like more natural-looking hair, I guess."

Gina checked out the dancer. "She reminds me of Magenta, the red-haired chick on the Rocky Horror Picture Show."

Brady chuckled. "I was thinking more of Yosemite Sam."

She laughed out loud. "Shit, man! Don't tell her that. Her self-esteem would go right in the crapper."

He grinned and looked at her thoughtfully. "Don't women appreciate honesty? I mean, I used to highlight my hair a few years back, until a friend told me it wasn't cool to have hair colors that didn't appear in nature."

Gina made a face and shrugged. "This your lady friend we're talking about?"

He returned the shrug. "She was a lady, yeah, but she wasn't 'my' anything. Actually, she's now the wife of a good buddy."

"To each her own, I guess. Personally, I like a guy who spiffs himself up a bit. But I don't care much for cops."

Brady fiddled with his swizzle stick. "Good to know."

She stared at him flatly. "Get you anything else right now?"

"No, thanks."

"Enjoy the show." She turned and walked away.

He watched her hips swivel and admired the way her ass looked in tight jeans. "I certainly will," he murmured. He looked back at the stage. Nurse Sam, as he was thinking of her now, had stripped to nothing but fishnet stockings held up by a garter belt and a thong. Her full breasts bobbed as she humped the pole on stage. The sight of her didn't do anything for him. In fact, all Brady could think was,
with life preservers like those on board, the woman would never drown.

He found himself searching the room until his gaze again landed on Gina. She waited on a table full of men, laughing and joking with them. To his surprise, Brady felt a stab of jealousy.
Where the hell did that come from?
He'd just met the woman. Sure, he found her attractive, but if the truth were known he found much of the world's population of women attractive. The feelings seemed to be mutual. To the casual observer, Brady was not a lonely man.

He studied Gina's return to the bar where she turned in the drink orders from her last table. She wore very little make-up, but came across as polished just the same. She moved fluidly, gracefully, and seemed comfortable chatting up a group of men at a strip club.

He sipped his drink and remembered how she jumped and got angry when he grabbed her arm. Maybe she wasn't as comfortable as she let on, or she preferred people at a distance.

"Turn it off, Detective," he muttered to himself, something that was easier said than done. When he was alone in a crowd Brady usually analyzed people, trying to figure out what made them tick. Just then, he didn't want to think that hard. He'd recently wrapped up a stressful case, and tonight, he intended to relax and unwind, drop-dead Fred notwithstanding.

He looked at the stage, where Nurse Sam wound up her part of the show by shaking her ass at a group of Asian businessmen. They seemed pleased with her, judging by the amount of money they tossed onto the stage.
Maybe I do need to move closer to the front.
Perhaps he could lose himself in
the bevy of naked beauties that were sure to parade before him. Even that idea didn't hold great appeal. He looked around again until he found Gina, and watched her instead.

She had a Cindy Crawford-type beauty mark on her cheek, just above her lip. Brady found it sexy, for some reason. Her full, pouty lips—he could easily explain the attraction to them. For just a moment, he wondered how they'd taste pressed against his own, and imagined himself nibbling on them before pushing them open and exploring her mouth with his tongue.

She remained at the bar, looking out over the crowd, so he continued his scrutiny. Large silver hoops dangled from her ears, adding to her gypsy-like appearance. His gaze lowered to the pastel plaid shirt she wore knotted at the waist over a yellow crop-top. The shirts were filled out nicely. Maybe not as much as Nurse Sam would have filled them out, but Gina's breasts looked very nice and natural. Her jeans were low-rise, and Brady was surprised to see a shiny silver navel ring in the gap between shirt and jeans.

His surprise grew along with his erection when she turned around and reached above the bar for something. He caught a glimpse of a medium-sized butterfly tattoo across her lower back.

He'd been in the strip club for close to two hours, but watching Gina had provided his only stimulation of the night. Brady shifted positions for comfort and thought about what exactly had flicked his Bic. He'd seen lots of women with tattoos and body piercings before. There were plenty in his line of work, and a good number of those sightings had been purely for pleasure. But something about this
particular
woman continued to intrigue him.

She didn't like cops, an attitude that amused him. He'd dealt with it before, and usually diffused those situations easily. Gina's appealing mix of wholesomeness and sexiness interested him, and her devil-may-care attitude made the effort seem worthwhile.

Then there was her amazing set of hips.
Christ!
His erection twitched. There was nothing sexier than a tiny waist over a full, round butt. They used to call it an hourglass figure. Brady called it something he'd like to get his hands on. His dick throbbed pleasantly as he continued to watch Gina work.

He took another drink and his ice shifted, splashing amber-colored liquid down his shirt and jacket. Swabbing himself with the tiny napkin-slash-coaster on his table, he felt himself blush profusely when he realized Gina was watching him. Her chocolate brown eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement. He tossed the tiny napkin on the table and smiled at her sheepishly.

She made her way over to him and tossed a stack of bigger napkins on the table. "Get you a bib?"

"Uh, no, I'm doing fine, thanks." For the second time that night he heard himself stammer. She definitely had him off his stride. "I can't believe you saw me do that."

"The show's up there." Gina pointed to where a woman in a Catwoman costume took the stage. "But every time I look at you, you're watching me."

He looked at the stage quickly and then back at Gina. "I don't much like cats."

"Too bad!" she purred, leaning into him. "I have a beautiful cat. Her name is Pussy."

Brady coughed and felt his face flush again. "You're, uh, kidding me."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Gina batted her eyes at him. "But seriously, you're creeping me out, Detective. I suggest you watch the stage, or I'll have the bouncer show you the door."

Brady opened his mouth to protest and offer some sort of explanation when the front door opened and two uniformed officers, followed by Melanie Curtis, entered the club. He sighed and shoved his drink away. "Looks like there's a different show to watch, now."

* * * *

Gina studied the woman who marched in with the two uniforms on her heels. Even without her sidekicks, she was obviously a cop. Dark jacket, stiff manner—hell, Gina would bet the farm there was a gun in a shoulder holster under that jacket. She glanced around, but Julie was still recovering from her shock in the back room, so there was no one to bet. Gina knew she was right about the woman. She had a sense for cops, always had.

Plainclothes division probably made the broad a detective. Gina looked briefly at Brady Marshall, noticing he didn't look surprised or unhappy to see the other detective come in. He was smiling.
Well, good for him
. Maybe he'd get lucky tonight. He certainly wasn't getting anywhere with
her
, Gina thought smugly, not that he'd actually put the moves on. But guys in these places were all alike.

"We're going to start questioning the patrons of this fine establishment," the lady cop said to Brady.

He tossed back the rest of his drink. "You can't wait until Catwoman is done?" They both looked at the stage, where the female cat had bared everything not covered by her black G-string, and was shimmying around for the pleasure of the crowd.

"How much do you suppose a boob job like that costs?" the female detective wondered aloud, shaking her head.

Brady chuckled. "Worth every penny, my dear. Worth every penny."

"You're so full of shit." She sat at his table and looked up at Gina. "Can I get a diet soda, please? And then I need to ask you a few questions."

Gina didn't reply, just stared at Brady and nodded toward his drink.

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

She ambled to the bar, got a diet soda from Randy, the bartender, and took it back to Cagney—
or was it Lacey with the dark hair?
Gina didn't think any more of chick cops than she did the masculine version. She set the drink in front of the woman and looked at her expectantly.

The lady detective had gotten caught up in the show, and when the naked Catwoman finally left the stage, she glanced up at Gina distractedly. "Oh, yeah. I guess I need to find out what time you came to work, and if you noticed anything unusual."

"Who's asking, please?" Gina put a hand on her hip.

Brady smiled and sucked a piece of ice from his glass into his mouth. "Gina, this is Detective Melanie Curtis, Homicide Division. Mel, this is Gina—uh…"

Gina looked slowly from him to Detective Curtis. She finally said "Morris. Gina Morris."

"Thank you." Curtis jotted her notes into a small book. "So Gina, what time did your shift start tonight?"

"Nine."

Detective Curtis nodded. "That's about the time we got here." She looked at Brady. "What time did
you
get here?"

He swallowed another bit of ice. "Around seven-thirty. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."

The other detective smiled at him. "But then, you weren't watching the back door, were you?"

"Good point." He shrugged. "I watched the show until Julie went out to dump the trash and got my attention with a bone-chilling scream." He looked at Gina, and she saw his eyes giving her the once-over. "Since I came back in, the dancers haven't held my interest."

She looked away, hoping Detective Curtis hadn't noticed him ogle her. The woman continued to write in her notebook, apparently unaware of what the other detective was doing. Maybe they weren't an item, after all. Gina knew if Brady Marshall was her man, she'd keep one eye on him at all times.

She shifted her feet, impatient with the slow-paced questioning. The lady detective seemed in no hurry, but Gina couldn't wait to get away.
Marshall
made her nervous, and standing this close as he continued to scrutinize her was unnerving. She didn't dig cops.

  "You've never seen the victim here before?" Detective Curtis asked
Marshall
.

He shook his head. "Not that I recall. I have a pretty good memory for faces, but his doesn't ring any bells."

"What about you?" She looked at Gina.

"I didn't see the body."

Curtis pulled out a Polaroid picture and held it up. The sandy-haired man could have been asleep, except his face was bleached of color. Gina leaned closer in the dark club to get a better look. She didn't recognize him, and shook her head.

"Are you sure?" Curtis snapped.

Gina slapped a hand on her hip and stared at the other woman. "I said I've never seen him. You have reason to doubt me?"

"I don't know you. I do know everybody lies at one point or another."

"I have no cause to lie," Gina said coolly, remembering why she disliked cops.

They gazed at each other until
Marshall
set his glass on the table with a thud. "We're all a little on edge tonight. It's never fun discovering a dead body." He flashed Gina a quick smile before turning back to the other detective. "So Mel, some of the neighboring businesses are closed tonight. You'll want to have your uniforms come back tomorrow and continue the canvass."

Curtis shook off Gina's stare and turned to
Marshall
. "Yeah," she finally said. "I realize that." The woman kept talking but Gina tuned her out.

In a casual manner, Brady Marshall had diffused the tension before it got out of hand. He was smooth, and that made her nervous. Police, in general, made her uneasy. She watched him as he spoke with the lady cop.

She'd be fooling herself if she believed the reason
Marshall
made her nervous was his job. It had more to do with his piercing blue eyes and silky blonde hair than his badge. He was tall, over six feet, with muscles in all the right places. His arms appeared strong, and for a moment Gina let herself wonder how it'd feel if he wrapped her in them. A shiver ran down her spine and she swooned, grabbing the table for support.