Take Me Tonight (18 page)

“You got a visual on her?” Dan asked.

Johnny didn’t appear to be looking at Sage, but Lucy knew he was.

“Who’s the bald guy?” Dan listened for a minute, then whispered to Lucy, “The doctor he asked you to check out, Garron.”

The doctor had checked out clean. But his hand lingered on Sage’s shoulder and something in his body language bothered Lucy. “He wants something from her,” she said to Dan, mentally reviewing the benign report on Dr. Garron that she’d e-mailed to Johnny.

“What do you
think
he wants from her?”

“Not sex. But something,” Lucy said, her spy’s instinct hard at work.

“You’re blinded by your feelings for her,” Dan said quietly to her, then he spoke into the phone: “Go get your woman, JC.”

Johnny shot a dark look up to where they sat.

“Whoops,” Dan said. “I mean your principal.”

Johnny closed the phone, moving like liquid through the crowd toward Sage. In a moment he approached her, and Lucy watched the three talk, analyzing their body language. Was she really blinded by her feelings? Is that why she listened to her screaming gut now?

“Think Johnny likes this assignment?” Dan said with a little smile.

She had to agree, and the attraction obviously went both ways. Lucy could see the affection and admiration, sense the chemistry between them. But her attention shifted back to Garron, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Sage. “I should dig deeper into that doctor,” she said. “That report might not have been complete.”

“You need a new assistant,” Dan said.

“I’m working on it,” Lucy said absently, watching as Johnny and Sage made their way to their seats.

Johnny put a casual hand on Sage’s back, very professional. Of course, he knew he was under his boss’s—and Sage’s aunt’s—scrutiny. They sat close to the court and Sage leaned into Johnny’s side as if it were the one place on earth she wanted to be, giving Lucy a little tug of guilt. She certainly hadn’t expected Sage to fall for Johnny. She hadn’t meant to hurt Sage more with this.

The lights flickered once, twice, then the arena was awash in total darkness and a deafening cheer rose from the crowd. In a lightning flash of strobe, Lucy saw Sage turn to Johnny. A single drumbeat thumped from a hundred speakers. Someone from the crowd hollered and a cacophony of whistles followed, but Lucy watched her niece.

The strobe flashed in rapid succession, making Sage’s movements jerk like an old movie reel as she reached up and put her hands on Johnny’s face.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Boston, Massachusetts!”

The response was earsplitting, but still Lucy stayed locked on the blinking image of Sage and Johnny. Getting closer. Touching, looking, lost in each other.

“The New England Snow Bunnies have a message for you!”

Blinding brightness alternated with total darkness. In each flash, Sage pulled him closer, wrapped her hands around his neck, closed her eyes.

Then it was completely dark. Not a hint of light. Still, Lucy stared at the spot where she knew her Bullet Catcher and her niece sat. The pulse of the drum and noise of the crowd built to a crescendo as a singer screamed, “I want you!”

Suddenly, spotlights poured icy blue light over the court where twenty-some dancers appeared in white leather hot pants and halters and screamed, “To want me!”

The song blasted from the speakers, the cheerleaders exploded into motion, the spectators bellowed in approval, but Lucy ignored it all. Her attention stayed on the couple in the courtside seats where a young woman kissed a young man, looking at him with lust and longing and…

“Oh.” The sound escaped Lucy’s lips before she even realized it.

“Johnny’s in deep, huh?” Dan asked.

“It’s not Johnny I’m worried about.”

The arena suddenly went pitch-black and Dan squeezed her hand. “She’ll be okay.”

All she’d wanted was to protect Sage. To guard and watch over her, like…well, like a mother would.

Again, they kissed. Long, slow, with aching familiarity.

Oh, Lord. What had she done? If Sage found out why Johnny was really there, the remote possibility of reconciliation would disappear forever.

The answer was simple. She could never, ever find out.

Sage thought of how she could shake Johnny, which, judging by the way he’d had a hand on her ever since he’d appeared out of nowhere to pull her away from Dr. Garron, wasn’t going to be easy. She’d considered the truth, but he’d hate Glenda’s insistence that Sage meet with LeTroy alone. And then he would follow her.

Adrien Fletcher slipped into an empty seat next to Johnny’s in the last minutes of the game. He said something to Johnny that Sage didn’t hear, and she leaned over to ask him if he would be waiting for Vivian at the back entrance.

“Johnny can show you where it is,” she said. “I’m going back into the dressing room to finish interviewing a few of the girls.”

Johnny glanced at her. “You’re not done yet?”

She shook her head. “Just a few more minutes, then I’ll be out with Vivian.”

The Blizzard scored a three-pointer in the last five seconds, sending the crowd into a frenzy and the Snow Bunnies to the court for a victory dance to a sexy Out-Kast rap.

As the players disappeared, Sage stood, eager to get to LeTroy the minute he left the locker room. “Glenda said to be waiting the minute the game is over. I’m going to go. ’Bye.” She already had one foot in the aisle when Johnny grabbed her hand tightly.

“Whoa, hang on, honey. I’ll go with you.”

“You have to show Fletch where the girls come out. You have to get to that exit by the outside, remember? You can’t go where I’m going.”

“I can go most of the way. C’mon, Fletch.” Johnny tapped his friend’s shoulder to pull his attention from the dancers. By the time they reached the outer band of the arena, hundreds of people were pouring out of the stands. Johnny moved Sage to his left side and kept a solid arm around her.

“Is this your good side?” she asked. “You always move me over here.”

“So I can get my gun easier,” he said, never taking his eyes from the passersby.

A strange, tingly sensation shot through her. Was he serious or was that a joke? He zoomed in on someone or something that caught his attention in the crowd. She started to follow his gaze, but he tightened his grip and pulled her into him, dropping an unexpected kiss on her head.

What didn’t he want her to see? She peered past him to see into the crowd…then slowed her step and stared hard at a couple leaving the arena.

“Was that your friend Dan?” she asked.

Johnny barely glanced that way. “I don’t know. Could have been. He’s a fan.”

“Does he date a tall blonde?”

“Tall, short, blond, brunette. The man’s a machine.” He threw a look at Fletch, who agreed with a laugh.

She didn’t pursue it because straight ahead was a door marked
NO ENTRANCE
manned by an arena security guard.

“That’s where I’m going,” she announced. “I’ll see you guys.” She wanted Johnny gone when she announced herself, in case Glenda mentioned LeTroy.

“We’ll wait until you get in,” Johnny said.

“You know, in this crowd, it’s going to take you a while to get all the way around the back of the arena. You better go so that Vivian and I don’t have to wait for you.”

Johnny held out his hand. “Give me your cell phone.”

“Why?”

“Just give it to me.”

She did, and he pressed a bunch of buttons and handed it back to her. “Press One and it will speed dial my cell phone. Your number’s already in mine. Do not leave this building until we talk, okay? We’ll be waiting for you and Vivian.”

“Okay. Bye.” She nudged him away.

“Hey, hey.” He slid his hand under her hair and tipped her face toward his. “Be careful, ’kay?” He kissed her softly, a gesture so affectionate and natural that she felt even worse about lying. She’d make it up to him later. She kissed him again on the cheek. “I will. Bye.”

As soon as he stepped away, she told the guard that Glenda was expecting her, and waited while he relayed her request into a radiophone. Johnny and Fletch lingered twenty feet away, still watching. She gave him a little finger wave, mouthing an insistent “Goodbye.”

The door opened with a clunk and Sage did a double take at the sight of Julian Hewitt’s icy eyes staring at her from behind thick, rimless glasses.

“Oh, hi.” She stepped aside, assuming he was leaving. “Mr. Hewitt.”

He indicated the corridor behind him with one hand. “We’re going this way.”

“We…we are.” She’d been kept so far from the Snow Bunnies’ business manager and Glenda Hewitt’s husband that she was surprised he’d escort her to an interview. She glanced over her shoulder at Johnny, whose hard, dark glare bored through Julian.

Julian returned the look.

“I don’t suppose you’d relent and let me bring my boyfriend to the interview?” Suddenly having Johnny with her seemed smarter than going into a dimly lit hallway alone with this guy.

“No, sorry. LeTroy would never allow it.”

The guard closed the door, blocking out all the echoes of the arena.

“This way,” Julian said, staying a step behind her.

“Great game, wasn’t it?” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “LeTroy should be in an excellent mood for the interview.”

“Yes, he should.”

They continued their progress to the point where the hall split into a T. To the left, down a long corridor, past the dancers’ dressing rooms, was the exit where Johnny and Fletch would be waiting. Should she go there and tell Vivian that, first?

“Is he ready to meet right now?” Sage asked. “Because I’d like to—”

“Do you have a camera?” Julian asked, ignoring the question.

“No.”

They turned right, away from the dressing rooms, and continued to the end of the hallway to an unmarked door.

“Let me see your cell phone,” he said.

Slowly, she pulled it out and held it in front of him. “Here it is. I’ll turn it off, if I have to.”

“That’s a camera phone.”

“I swear to God I won’t take a picture of the guy.” She could barely keep the exasperation out of her voice. “Honestly.”

Julian shook his head. “You give me the phone or the interview’s off.”

“Are you serious?”

His expression left no doubt. “Quite.”

Irritation shot through her as she opened her palm and he took the phone. “Fine.”

He opened the next door and practically shoved her into the room. “Wait here for LeTroy.” Then he left, slamming the door behind him.

Cursing him, and herself for giving him her phone, she glanced around the windowless room, sparsely furnished with a few vinyl chairs, a coffee table, and the New England Blizzard logo painted on one wall. On the table, two glasses were placed on napkins next to a pad of paper and several pencils.

She wanted out of there. She put her hand on the knob and turned, but it just clicked in her hand. Locked. “Oh, come on,” she groaned. “What’s going on?”

Cold air blew down from a duct in the ceiling, sending goose bumps down her body. Or was that because she was locked in a room alone, without her cell phone, and without anyone except creepy Julian Hewitt knowing where she was?

She dropped onto a chair, picked up a cup, and sniffed. The same lousy energy drink. Without taking a sip, she put it back on the table, giving into the funny sensation she’d had all night.

Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that she was being watched?

Chapter
Eighteen

W
hen Vivian Masters stepped into the beam of the security light and gave Johnny a surprised look, he cursed under his breath in Italian. How could he have been so stupid?

Fletch speared him with a look that echoed the thought.

“Where’s Sage?” Johnny demanded of Vivian. “Is she still in the dressing room?”

She shook her head. “She didn’t come in after the game. Sorry, I have no idea where she is.”

The game had been over for half an hour. About twenty other girls had come through the exit. Fury and fear rocked Johnny right down to his feet. “Get her home,” he said to Fletch, pulling out his cell phone and calling Sage’s number for the second time in fifteen minutes. Voice mail. He pocketed the phone and walked up to the oversize security guard. “I need to go in there.”

“I don’t think so, bud.” His glare had no doubt been honed over years as a nightclub bouncer.

“Listen,” Johnny said. “My girlfriend is in there and she was supposed to come out fifteen minutes ago with her.” He indicated Vivian. “She’s not answering her cell.”

The guard unclipped a comm radio from his belt. “Which one is she?”

“She’s not a dancer. She’s a reporter.”

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Let me have someone check the interview rooms. Hang on.” As he talked into his radiophone, Johnny scanned the parking lot. He spotted the van in the far western corner, parked among Dumpsters and near the woods. He couldn’t see if the bumper was hanging off, but the van looked really familiar.

As he considered his options, his cell phone rang Lucy’s tone. “Oh, great.”

Fletch grinned. “Busted.”

Johnny put his hand on the phone but didn’t open it. What the hell would he tell her?
I lost your niece
?

“Get it,” Vivian urged. “It’s probably Sage.”

“No, it’s someone else.” He flipped the phone open. “Yo. Christiano here.”

“Did she see me?” Lucy asked.

“Almost. I thought you guys were…” He glanced at Vivian, who listened to every word. “Never mind. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to know if we were spotted. Johnny, don’t blow your cover. For any reason. You understand? Call me later.”

Shit. He’d never lied to Lucy. Not even a lie of omission, like this.

“Got it.”

“Who was that?” Vivian asked, still watching him closely.

“Not Sage.” He felt like the world’s worst betrayer. Had Lucy backed off when he’d been asked to do the hardest thing a man could possibly do, kill someone he loved? No. Lucy had risked her own life, unselfishly and willingly, for Bella and for him. And now he was lying to her.

The radio squealed in the guard’s hand and a man’s voice announced, “That reporter’s interviewing LeTroy and can’t be disturbed.”

How did that happen? “Where is she?” Johnny asked the guard.

The guard relayed the question, along with a look that said he was way too busy for this.

“Media one,” the voice on the radio responded. “And the last two girls are on their way, Smitty. You can lock up then.”

“Lock up?” Johnny demanded. “She’s still in there.”

“I’ll take them to their cars and lock up.” He reclipped the radiophone with an air of self-importance. “Media one is an interview room at the other end of the arena. Go all the way around to the west lot entrance, there’s a door like this one. Wait there.”

The door opened and two more dancers and another guard stepped out into the light.

“Night, Ellie, night, Susannah,” Vivian said.

“You got ’em, Smitty?” the escort asked the door guard.

“Yep. I’ll take them to their cars.” When the door slammed closed, Mr. Self Important, the night watchman, put one hand on each of the dancer’s backs. “You need to get out of here.”

Fletch leaned closer to Johnny. “We can go over there with you, mate.”

“No, thanks,” Johnny said. Too much time with Fletch, especially chasing after a lost principal, and Vivian might figure out they weren’t “gym rats” but trained security professionals. Even if they kept their cover intact, she might raise questions to Sage, and then how long until she put two and two together and came up with Aunt Lucy? “I’m good. I’ll be there in five minutes and, trust me, I’ll get in.”

“Okay,” Vivian said. “But can you call her again before we leave?”

He did, scoping the lot behind him again as it rang. A car, one of the dancers’, he imagined, pulled out of a spot, and the security escort walked across the lot with the other woman. The guy was an idiot. It was like he made an effort to avoid the well-lit sections. Some muscle.

At the sound of Sage’s recorded voice, he flipped the phone shut, and said goodbye to Fletch and Vivian. In his car, he backed out of his spot and caught one last glimpse of the security guard and the dancer. Why did she park so far away? He waited for Fletch to take off, then finished the three-point turn, heading him in the opposite direction of the guard and the dancer.

Who walked, he realized when he looked in the rearview mirror, directly to the only vehicle parked in that corner. The van.

He whipped the car around into the next lane to shine his headlights in that direction. He didn’t hit them with the beam, but he could see the woman running, so he cut the car to the right and nailed them both with the light. The guard was chasing her.

Son of a bitch, what was going on? He slammed the gas, headed toward them, the noise and lights making both of them turn and freeze. The guard caught up with her, grabbed her, and dragged her the last five feet to the van. Johnny floored the Toyota and whipped through an empty slot between two parked cars, burning rubber.

But the guard was fast. He flipped open the back doors and tossed her inside. Just as Johnny’s car reached them, the guard dived into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Johnny threw the Toyota directly in front of the van and leaped from the seat, his gun drawn.

At the rumble of the van’s ignition, he cocked and aimed at the windshield. The van backed up and he lowered his weapon, shot the right front tire, then lifted it again. “Get out!” he shouted.

After a second, the driver’s door opened very slowly and the guard stepped out with both hands up. “What the fuck?” he yelled. “She paid for it!”

Johnny took a few steps closer. “What are you doing?”

“My fuckin’ job. She paid to get kidnapped and that’s what I’m doing.”

Johnny peered at him. This is what they hired to kidnap these women? This pudgy lowlife? “Get the hell out of here.”

“Hey, man, I gotta job to do.”

“You did it.”

He didn’t move. “They won’t pay me, asshole. Let me take her to the right spot. Then you can rescue her. Trust me, you got the better gig tonight.”

Inside the van, a woman screamed, “Hey!” and pounded on the back door. “What’s going on?”

Johnny raised the gun, aimed it at his face. “Go.”

The guard swore softly, turned, and ran into the darkness of the lot. Johnny jogged to the back of the van, kicked the falling bumper, and opened the door.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Your rescuer,” he said dryly, reaching for her. “Let’s go, fast. I got another job.”

She looked dismayed but climbed out. “Already? Isn’t this part supposed to last longer?”

He closed his eyes in disgust. “Where are you parked?”

She pointed to a car closer to the entrance. “This sucks,” she grumbled, pulling keys from her bag. “I thought I got a lot more for Glenda’s two grand.”

Glenda’s
? “She paid for this?”

“You think we can afford this? At ninety dollars a game?” She blew out an annoyed breath and pointed her remote toward a Honda Civic. “This is her idea of building squad spirit. I didn’t really want to do it anyway. Julian’s right.”

“About what?”

She pushed some hair out of her face. “That this is really Glenda’s way of getting all of us to act like whores and ruin our self-respect.”

No shit.
But one word stuck in his brain as he opened the driver’s door for her. “Did he use that word?
Whore
?”

“Hell yes. He called me one tonight.”

“So he knows who’s getting kidnapped? And when and where?”

“Duh, they
are
married.” She swept him with a long, slow look and gave him a sultry smile. “Sure you won’t change your mind? I didn’t see you on the website, but you’re really cute.”

“Then Julian would be right, wouldn’t he?”

Surprise flashed in her eyes, which still had clumps of mascara around the edges. “Hey, it fuels his fantasies.”

“How do you mean?”

She made a distasteful face. “He’s torn. Part of him wants to be protective; the other part wants to fuck every one of us.”

Really.
He guided her into the front seat of her car. “Here you go, sweetheart. Be good, now.”

“Like any of us would do that geek,” she continued, an adrenaline rush obviously making her talkative. “He’s a very sad man. He was so mad at Keisha when she did the kidnapping, I swear he was actually happy when she died.”

Johnny froze in the act of closing the door. “What?”

She nodded, her mouth moving way faster than her brain. “She was one of the dancers. She died. Suicide. Oh, he had it so bad for Keisha. He followed her all the time, called her into his office for no reason, just totally wanted her. He was so pissed when she signed up.
So
pissed. I can’t imagine what he’ll say to me when he finds out.”

“Has he ever hurt any of the girls?”

“
He
doesn’t,” she said. “But Glenda pays those guards plenty to keep us in line.”

He didn’t have time to put this puzzle together, but one thing was sure: He had to get Sage away from where Glenda or Julian or any of their well-paid security guards were. He eased the woman into the driver’s seat and tugged at the seat belt for her. “Good night.”

She gave him a pout of pure disappointment. “It still could be a good night if you want to come with me.”

“Not tonight, babe.” He closed her door, turned, and ran to the opposite side of the building. He had to get Sage out of there.

It didn’t take a trained journalist to know that LeTroy Burgess wanted to be anywhere else in the world but this interview. He arrived alone, didn’t even say hello, and refused to make eye contact with Sage. He folded his seven feet of self into a chair, plopped size-20 shoes on the coffee table, took one sip of the energy drink and spit it back into the glass, and glowered straight ahead.

“You got three questions,” he said as though he were talking to the door. “One about the game. One about my career. One about my family. Anything else goes to my publicist, who should be here but is in L.A. And nothing about that third foul in the last period.” He lifted his left arm, waved a diamond Rolex, and said, “Go.”

“How well did you know Keisha Kingston?”

He whipped toward her, his near-black eyes on fire. “What the fuck do you care?”

“My name is Sage Valentine. Does that mean anything to you?”

He searched her face, his bushy black eyebrows drawn. “No.”

“I was Keisha’s roommate. I shared her Beacon Hill apartment with her.”

He scowled at her. “If this is going to turn into some fuckin’ Kobe Bryant rape charge, you can stop right there.”

Sage took a deep breath and settled her hands on her lap, hoping he’d notice there was no recorder, no notebook, no pencil. “I’m trying to figure out why she killed herself.” She paused and leaned an inch forward. “
If
she killed herself.”

She saw him struggle to swallow. “I want my lawyer.”

Sage drew back. “Why?”

“’Cause you just rapped me, bitch. I did not kill her.” He snarled the words, leaning closer. “I did not rape her. I did not kill her. I did not do anything wrong. You understand? Damn.” The last word was muttered on a snort of frustration.

“I know that you were her friend, LeTroy.” She purposely lowered her voice. “I know that she talked to you, and trusted you. I remember her mentioning your name and telling me the press was wrong about you.”

His expression morphed into something unreadable. “She’s gone, and that’s really too bad. She was a good kid. A sweet girl.”

“Did you get her pregnant?”

Closing his eyes, he stood, towering over her like a skyscraper. “Interview’s done.”

“Please, LeTroy. I’m not trying to place blame. I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”

He looked down at her for a long time. “It don’t matter what happened. She’s gone. I miss her, too. ’Nuff said.”

“Then why did you agree to do this interview?” she asked.

“Because Glenda asked me.”

“Do you do whatever Glenda says?”

He shrugged, attempting for casual, but missing. “She’s got some dirt on me and we keep things cool this way, ’kay? You got a problem with that?”

“I have a problem with not knowing what happened to my roommate.”

He closed his eyes for a second. “I don’t know what happened to her. I know what happened to
us
. I told her the first time, I wasn’t never leavin’ my wife. Keisha, she thought…” He shook his head. “Shit happens, okay? And shit happened with us, you hear me?”

She heard him. “Was she pregnant?”

“She mighta been. We weren’t talkin’ there at the end.” He slumped down. “The first time…we were on the road. In Salt Lake. Not much to do in Utah, you know? So we were talking, late into the night. And one thing led to another.”

“Okay.” Sage didn’t want to pass judgment or stop his confession.

“Well, that was it.” He waited a beat before adding, “We hooked up a few more times. But then I got all scared and shit.”

It seemed monumental for a man of his size to admit to fear. “Did you think she’d go public with the affair?”

“No.” He let out a slow breath of resignation. “I got scared ’cause she…she—”

“She what, LeTroy?”

“She was cool. Like she could take me or not. But I started to get, like, I couldn’t think, couldn’t play, couldn’t do nothin’, unless I could be with her.”

A shiver worked its way up Sage’s back. Could he have killed Keisha? Could she have been a threat to his reputation, his marriage? Because he’d fallen in love with her? “So what did you do?”