Sexual Games [The Heroes of Silver Springs 8] (Siren Publishing Classic) (17 page)

“The beauty I like to watch most won’t be working tonight.” He scowled and shot a glance at the stage. “Seems like every time I get a favorite in this place the bitch quits.”

If it hadn’t been the surefire way to blow a cover she desperately needed for this case, Mallory would have jerked the slime bucket out of his chair and demanded he tell her everything he knew about Erin Griffin. How did he know she wouldn’t be dancing tonight? Did he have something to do with her murder? Had he killed the girl himself?

“I’d tell you to get up there and dance for me, but then you might quit, too.”

Or she might end up wherever the other missing girls had gone. Damn, it was looking more and more like she might have to strip before she got the break she needed in this case.

Leroy squeezed her ass painfully hard, and she tightened her grip on her tray to keep from decking him. “I wouldn’t want that to happen. You’re the prettiest thing this place has got to look at now.”

“I’m sure you’ll find another beauty to capture your attention soon enough.” Mallory reached her free hand behind her, closed it over his, and firmly, but oh so politely, peeled it from her ass. “I’ve got other customers to serve. Enjoy the show.”

She left his table quickly, off-loading the other drinks on her tray, gathering more orders, and gritting her teeth as she bore more pawing on her way back to the bar.

Sasha met her at the waitress station. “What can I get for you, honey?”

“A barf bag would be lovely,” Mallory told her as she set her tray on the bar.

Sasha’s lips twitched. “Leroy seems to forget from night to night that he’s not supposed to put his hands on the staff.”

“Him and every other guy in this place.” Mallory shot a glance over her shoulder as Candy took the stage. “He’s ill because his favorite dancer quit. Who was he talking about?” she asked, pretending not to know.

“Erin.” Sasha propped her elbows on the bar and leaned closer to Mallory as the beat of the music increased the volume of the song. “I didn’t expect her to last long. The really pretty ones never do.”

“I talked to her last night before I left. She was in the back counting her tips and talking about how much money she made. She didn’t say anything about quitting. If anything, I thought she was looking forward to doing it again tonight.”

“They all brag about the tips they make. Even in this joint, the strippers make more than you and I do combined. Of course, they’re taking off a lot more than we do, too.” Sasha shrugged. “All I know is Betty said she got a call from Erin just before lunch. The girl quit. End of story.”

Not end of story. Erin couldn’t have called Betty because the girl’s body had already been lying in the medical examiner’s freezer by lunchtime.

“Don’t let it worry you, sweetheart. The turn-around rate here is out of sight. Women—or should I say girls because most of them are barely even old enough to be on that stage—take a job here, keep it for a few days, maybe a few weeks or months, and then quit. Being a stripper is not a glamorous job. Some girls actually think it is. Then they get a taste of reality and they’re gone.”

Gone where
was the question Mallory wanted answered. Erin Griffin had ended up in a body bag. Were the other missing girls dead, too, and their bodies just hadn’t surfaced yet? Or were they being held captive by some sick, sadistic son of a bitch like the FBI believed, being forced to do heinous sexual acts?

Mallory looked over her shoulder again as Sasha started filling the new drink orders, her gaze landing on the employee door to the right of the stage. Beyond that door was the club office. She needed to find a way into that office tonight. If she could copy the hard drive on the club’s computer, they might find something in the club records that would give them more leads to follow.

“Here you go.” Sasha placed the drinks on Mallory’s tray.

“Thanks.” Mallory picked up the tray but hesitated. “I haven’t seen Betty tonight. Is she in the office? I thought I would take my break before business picks up and talk to her for a minute.”

Sasha lifted a brow. “Interest in taking Erin’s place on the stage?”

Mallory pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I might. I mean, I know it isn’t glamorous by any means, but the money sure would be. I was hoping she might let me do both, you know, waitress most of the time but pull a few stage shifts now and then.”

“She probably will.” Sasha’s tone was laced with disapproval. “She left about a half hour ago. I don’t know when she will be back. You should go ahead and take your break, though. I can handle things out here while you’re gone.”

Mallory nodded and wove her way through the scattering of tables to deliver the drinks. She walked through the employee door to the back and heard voices from the employee room at the end of the hall on the right. There would be at least two other strippers in there getting ready for their time on the stage. She tried the knob of the door on her left and found it locked. No biggie. The knob was the old-fashioned kind and took her all of five seconds to pick. With a quick glance behind her and another at the doorway down the hall, she twisted the knob and eased the door open.

The office was dark save for the blue glow coming from the screensaver on the computer on the desktop. It provided her enough light to see the office was also empty. She stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her, and quickly looked around. Hopefully the door on the far side of the room led to a closet where she could hide if someone came in.

She balanced her weight on one foot and pulled the tiny USB device from her anklet. In seconds, she had it plugged into the computer port, copying the information on the hard drive. She ignored the sensations prickling her spine, like centipedes crawling up her flesh. If she got caught, her cover would be toast and the entire operation would be compromised.

She scanned the room around her more slowly as she waited for the download to complete. There were no cameras, at least not in obvious positions. If she were being caught on tape, hopefully no one would see a cause to view it until long after the FBI discovered what had happened to the missing women.

The light on the end of the USB device went out, alerting her that the download was complete.
Thank you, speedy technology.
She pulled the device from the computer port, replaced it in the space in her anklet, and tiptoed back to the office door.

She stopped with her hand on the knob and put her ear to the door. Hearing no sounds from the hallway, she slowly turned the knob, eased the door open, and walked out. Her hand was still on the knob, though the door was now closed, when the voices she had heard from the employee room got louder as the women moved into the hall.

“Hey, Jacqueline, isn’t it?”

Mallory sucked in a breath and jerked back. Recovering quickly, she put her palm over her pounding heart as she turned to face the strippers, Natalie and Sabrina. She didn’t know which one had spoken.

“That’s right. Gosh, you nearly scared the life out of me.” She let out a short, shaky laugh.
Think, Mallory. Think!

“What are you doing?” the stripper named Sabrina asked. Her eyes, which were far too blue to be real and not colored contacts, narrowed suspiciously.

“I was looking for Betty. Have you seen her?”

“I don’t think she’s in there,” Natalie said, her tone far friendlier and without a trace of the distrust she read in Sabrina’s expression.

“Yeah, I don’t think she is either. I knocked and, well, you know, habit of knocking at the same time you open the door, or attempt to, anyway. It’s a bad habit. My mother gets on to me for doing it all the time.” She slid a glance at the office door. “But it’s locked and it doesn’t sound like Betty is in there.”

Christ, did I remember to lock it back?

Yes, she had thumbed the lock into place as she closed the door.

Thank God.

“She’ll probably be back soon. Brina and I were headed out to peek on the side of the stage and watch Candy. She’s awesome up there. Are you on break? You can come with us.”

“Sure.” Mallory stayed where she stood until the strippers passed her in the narrow hallway and then fell in behind them, wanting nothing more than to run the opposite direction, straight to HQ to see what she could pull off the USB device once again securely in its home on her anklet.

* * * *

Mallory’s stomach growled as if it intended to go AWOL on her if she didn’t get food in it fast. She ached from her feet to her back to her head. Though a part of her couldn’t wait to get to the office and start clicking through the files on the USB device, she knew if she didn’t get something to eat followed by at least a couple hours of sleep, she would likely miss any key bits of information she found even if they were highlighted in bright pink fill.

She rested her forehead on her apartment door as she stuck her key in the lock and turned it. The fact that she didn’t feel the tumblers inside it fall into place had her lifting her head, drawing her Beretta from her purse, and thumbing off the safety.

All thoughts of aches, food, and information drowned in the river of adrenaline that flooded her system. She never left her apartment unlocked. Who did in this day and age? Holding her Beretta in a secure grip, one finger at the ready on the trigger, she eased her apartment door open.

Loopy, her black-and-white cat, meowed softly and wound herself around Mallory’s foot. She ignored the cat, steadying her gun as her gaze did a quick sweep of the interior of her apartment. A flickering glow illuminated a figure on her sofa. She leveled her gun and started to speak when he beat her to it.

“It’s me. Don’t shoot.”

Relief moved through her so fast it made her light-headed. She slumped against the doorframe, lowered her gun, and waited for her heartbeat to return to some semblance of normalcy. “I should shoot you anyway just for spite. Christ, Jackson! What are you doing sitting in the dark in my apartment at three in the freaking morning?”

“Waiting for you.” He got to his feet and walked closer. “And it’s not dark. Close the door and you’ll be able to see.”

Mallory closed the door, realizing it had been blocking the flames of the candles she kept lined on top of the half wall separating her living room and kitchen. A few more steps brought him farther into that light, and all ideas of her heartbeat slowing down disintegrated. No man had the right to be so devastatingly handsome all the time. It simply wasn’t fair.

They spent so much time at the office that she rarely saw him in anything besides tailored suits, crisp white shirts, and ties. Tonight, he wore jeans and a pullover shirt with tennis shoes. The effect in the flickering candlelight nearly did her in. He looked ten times more dangerous, more forceful, and God help her, more appealing than ever.

Get a grip, Mallory.

Yeah, that was precisely what she wanted to do, and considering she was finding it difficult to tear her gaze off of him, she knew exactly what she wanted to grip. Those broad shoulders would be a start. Her hands burned to feel the dense muscles flex at her touch. Her fingers tingled with the need to close around his biceps, to dance over the square pecs his shirt clearly defined, to graze lower until she found his rigid cock and could hold it in her fist.

Careful. Get your head right or you’re toast.

He had caught her off guard. That had no doubt been his intention. She could handle it, though. She had to. The memories of last night with him, of how close he had come to penetrating parts of her she didn’t want to face, were still too clear in her mind. He had left her feeling vulnerable, and damn it, now that she’d had time to realize that, to stew on it, it really pissed her off. Last night had been all about breaking the sexual tension that had been building between them for far too long. It was supposed to lessen the fire burning in her soul, not stoke it to an out-of-control burn.

“I paid my power bill this month.” She thumbed on the safety of her Beretta, shoved it back in her purse, and tossed the bag in a nearby chair as she headed for the kitchen. “I’m sure the electricity works fine.”

“I’m sure it does, too. The candles work better for my purposes tonight.” His long strides brought him to the kitchen light switch at the same time she reached for it. He closed his hand over hers, stopping her from turning it on.

His body heat overwhelmed her. Being this close to him again, knowing what that hand felt like on other parts of her flesh, sent tingles of acute desire dancing through her system.

“And what, exactly, are your purposes?” Something told her she really didn’t want to know. Was he looking for a repeat of last night? Every insane, out-of-control part of her was ready for a redo. The single ounce of rational brains she had left knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she couldn’t take it, not yet, not again so soon. Being with him again tonight, having him inside her again tonight would destroy her.

“Why did you leave last night?”

She had hurt him. She saw the evidence of that clouding his eyes. She had hurt herself, too. Everything about last night had hurt despite how incredibly fantastic it had been.

“I had to,” she admitted in a whisper. “I needed space, my own place.” She had needed her comfort zone, a zone he had thoroughly invaded tonight.

“Fair enough. Are you hungry?”