Tri Me (Primrose, Minnesota, Book 4)

by Mia Dymond

  Jake stretched out his legs. “At least we have women. Besides, it keeps things interesting.”

  “I have women. I just don’t keep them long. Too much trouble.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Jackson thought too.” Mace returned with two bottles resting between four fingers of one hand and one nestled between two fingers of the other. He distributed each man’s beer and then settled back into the recliner. “Until Alex got ahold of him.”

  Jackson froze, careful not to react too quickly to his friend’s accusation. “Alex isn’t anyone’s woman.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Positive.” He breathed a short sigh of relief and then swallowed a swig of the cold substance before he answered. “And I’m sure she’d confirm that if you asked.”

  “I’m not asking,” Mace mumbled.

  Jackson smirked. “By the way, did I mention that Dara told Alex she would do some research on tracking phone calls?”

  “Of course!” Mace threw up his hands. “She can’t stay out of it.”

  “Did Alex file a police report?” Ryker asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “The easiest way to get Intel is to contact the phone service carrier but they won’t budge without a warrant or subpoena.”

  “We can’t get either of those.”

  “Do you know which carrier she uses?”

  “HBL.”

  “I have a contact who will give us all the information we need.”

  Jackson tilted his head to one side. “How?”

  “Let’s just say he owes me. The only catch is that law enforcement will have to serve a warrant or subpoena. As soon as my guy has those papers in hand, he’ll make sure I’m the first one notified.”

  “So, what do you want us to do, Jackson?” Mace asked.

  “Hell if I know. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

  “Have her file the report. I’ll get these messages to my sound guy and let you know if he comes up with anything. Meanwhile, we give your girl a tail.” Ryker added.

  Jackson frowned in an effort to prove a point. “She’s not my girl. You have someone in mind?”

  “Always.”

  “She’s extremely intelligent, Ryker. Your guy will have to be something close to a shadow figure.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “I’m dead serious. If she figures out what we’ve done, we may be six feet under by morning.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. I won’t go down alone.”

  “Relax, my guy’s the best.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Jackson mumbled, “for both our sakes.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Thanks, James.”

  Alex felt almost ridiculous as she slid across the backseat of the hired car and accepted the driver’s hand before stepping out into her garage into the bay next to her own car. She should’ve known Jackson wouldn’t hire a car. No, he hired a sleek, black limousine, complete with a mature, uniformed driver. Inconspicuous? I think not. Then again, knowing Jackson, the automobile was probably bulletproof.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience of pulling in here.”

  “Not a problem, Miss Jennings. Just give us a call when you’re ready to go back out.”

  “I will. Thanks again.”

  The driver touched the brim of his cap then re-entered the car, smiling as he backed out of the garage.

  With a hefty sigh of relief, Alex pressed the nearby button and watched the automatic door lower to the ground without incident. Not that she’d ever let the paranoid detective know, but the day had been a true test of patience on her part. Never mind that Judge Bowman had been in true form, arrogant and obsessive, but she’d spent most of the day cursing herself for dodging shadows.

  She’d acted just as she’d promised. She made an early morning call to her secretary to continue all but one scheduled hearing on the day’s docket. Then she rode straight to the courthouse and walked the fifteen steps from the car to the door, attending the hearing, and then made a slight detour downstairs to the police department – looking over her shoulder the whole time. And just as she predicted, her stalker hadn’t followed or called. She shook her head in frustration. When she finally caught up with the loon, the woman would certainly realize she couldn’t have chosen the absolutely worst victim.

  She entered the side interior door, quieted the alarm, tossed her briefcase and purse to the counter, and headed straight for the bottle of wine in the refrigerator. She didn’t even hesitate as she opened the door, popped the cork stop, lifted the bottle and took several long swallows. The day’s stress slowly dripped from her body as the liquid traveled through her bloodstream and relaxed her overworked nerves.

  She took one last draw on the bottle then lowered it to eye-level in an effort to check the amount remaining, which appeared to be not much more than three or four more swallows. She shrugged. Okay, gulps maybe but at that particular point in time the volume didn’t really matter. She closed the refrigerator door as she tilted the bottle again and welcomed the tangy substance as it met her tongue. Her brain had just begun to retire until the obnoxious ringing of the doorbell caused her to jump and begin a coughing fit.

  Alex jerked the bottle from her lips while her throat closed, her sinus passages burned, and tears streamed from her eyes.

  “Hold on,” she croaked.

  Without releasing her hold on the bottle, she dragged herself to the front door and squinted enough to see Dara, Marnie and Bri through the peephole. Still coughing, she opened the door.

  Dara frowned. “Are you sick?”

  Alex could only shake her head no.

  “She’s soused.” Marnie pried her fingers from the bottle, grasped her shoulder, and led her to the sofa.

  She continued to cough while her friend thumped her several times on the back. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I’m not drunk. The doorbell just startled me.”

  “Was this full?” Marnie tapped one French-manicured fingernail against the frosted glass.

  “No.” Alex managed a smirk at the sight of six raised eyebrows. “Only half.”

  Bri sat next to her and patted her thigh. “You need a night out.”

  “That sounds lovely, but my watchdog made me promise to stay in.”

  Dara studied her nails. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  “Where are the other members of our posse?”

  “Working as usual.” Dara sighed. “Poor girls.”

  Suspicious and intrigued, Alex moved her gaze from Dara onto Marnie and then Bri. No doubt, they had a plan and most likely a brilliant one. Wouldn’t hurt to at least hear it – would it?

  “How do you propose we sneak out of here?”

  Bri patted her purse. “Not a problem.”

  “Better yet, how do we know he won’t see us?”

  “He better not be where we’re going.”

  “Where exactly is that?”

  Dara and Marnie giggled while Bri reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of hot pink, boy-cut short shorts, a matching push-up bra, and a long blonde wig.

  “The Velvet Glove,” Bri said easily. “It’s amateur night.”

  She couldn’t stop her eyes from widening at the mention of Primrose’s most elegant gentlemen’s club. “I’m not wearing those and I’m not going there.”

  “Oh drink your wine, Alex.” Marnie thrust the bottle in her direction. “You’ll never know the difference.”

  “Wait, there’s more.” Bri shrugged as she pulled out a pair of hot pink, spiked heels. “We’ll get a private room. A little fun and another bottle of wine and you’ll sleep worry free.”

  Alex took the bottle from Marnie and drew another long swig – long enough to polish off the contents. “You know, you’re right. Maybe entertainment is what I need.”

  Dara frowned. “Did you work today?”

  “I attended one hearing at the courthouse and spent about thirty minutes with a police detec
tive who filed a police report.” She snorted. “And thanks to Jackson, I traveled first class in a limousine.”

  “And you’re annoyed?”

  “Yes, Dara! I am!”

  “Um.” Her friend leaned her head to one side. “Why?”

  She stopped short at Dara’s question. Why did Jackson’s gesture irritate her when he’d gone out of his way to make the best of a bad situation? No one in her right mind would be disappointed. Yet, somehow sanity seemed to escape her at the moment.

  “Just because!” She stood, grabbed the change of clothing from Bri, and headed out of the living room. “I’m going out.”

  “This might not be such a good idea after all,” Marnie mumbled.

  “I heard that, Marnie!” She released a string of giggles she couldn’t have stopped if she’d wanted to as she entered the nearby guest bathroom and peeled off clothing. “It’s a great idea!”

  ***

  Jackson checked his watch as he entered the office of Recovery Specialists, Inc. and hoped to hell Ryker had good news.

  “Please tell me she didn’t make him,” he blurted in introduction as he slumped into a chair in front of Ryker’s desk.

  “Would you relax? Storm has it all under control. She followed your instructions all day and the limo dropped her back at home about an hour ago.”

  He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he held. “Without incident?”

  “Affirmative. Now we wait on the Primrose PD.”

  “I met with the Captain this afternoon. He assured me he’d assign a detective to investigate immediately.”

  “You think he’ll have problems obtaining the warrant?”

  “With accusation of bodily harm, most likely not.” He shrugged. “If there’s an issue, Alex has pull with the judges. We should hear something by tomorrow at the latest.”

  “Have you talked to her today?”

  “No, I got tied up at the station. I thought I’d stop by when we’re done here.”

  “We need to bug her phone.”

  “I’ll pick it up while I’m there.”

  “Do you suppose we can do it without complication?”

  He had to laugh. “Probably not, but I’ll get it done.”

  “I’m willing to bet some of her conversations are interesting.”

  “How?”

  Ryker’s response was interrupted by the chirp of his cell phone. He glanced down at his hip. “It’s Storm.”

  Jackson raised an eyebrow and listened.

  “When? Where?” Ryker frowned and then shook his head. “Where?” Another slight hesitation on Ryker’s part made the hair stand on the back of Jackson’s neck. Some sort of sixth sense told him that if Ryker was rattled, he wouldn’t like the outcome of this call.

  “Okay Storm, hold your position. We’re en route.” Ryker’s top lip twitched as he disconnected, clipped the phone back onto his belt, and leaned back in his chair with his hands buckled behind his head. “We have a situation.”

  Jackson purposely hesitated to ask questions, moving his gaze over the other man’s face in an attempt to analyze the obviously-amused expression.

  “Lay it on me,” he said finally.

  “Storm is parked in the lot outside The Velvet Glove.”

  Adrenaline gathered in his veins. “He can’t watch Alex from that location.”

  “Uh yeah, he can.”

  “Knock it off, Ryker. Why is Storm several miles from the perimeter?”

  “Alex just entered the back door of the club.”

  “What? Why?”

  Ryker shrugged. “Want me to send Storm inside for Intel?”

  “No! I’ll handle it. Call Jake and tell him to meet me there.”

  “Jake?”

  Jackson nodded as he stood. “Bri pulls a shift there. He knows the place intimately.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ryker’s jaw dropped and his mouth opened for a split second before he managed to close it. “Rawlings agrees to let his woman shake her … assets for other men?”

  “Hardly.” Jackson snickered. “He doesn’t let her do anything. She’s a psychologist. She counsels some of the girls.”

  “Damn.” Ryker chuckled under his breath while he tilted back his chair. “I wouldn’t touch this assignment with a ten foot pole. I’ll wait here. Call me if you need backup.”

  ***

  Alex held her breath, still not entirely sure she wanted to participate in her friend’s plan as Bri stuck a key into the back door lock of The Velvet Glove and then slung open the barrier. “This is legal, right?”

  “I have a key, Alex. I work here, remember?”

  “Much to Jake’s dismay,” Dara added.

  Bri giggled. “As long as he’s allowed to review the video, he’s fine with it.”

  Alex stepped inside, impressed by the tasteful décor. Three individual dressing rooms with black shutter doors lined the walls on one side, three on the other, each area large enough to house a one-rod closet and a chest of drawers. In the center of the room, a long mirror stretched what she figured to be six to eight feet, supported by a black granite countertop. Cosmetics, Styrofoam heads adorned with wigs, and hair accessories rested neatly at individual beauty stations. In front of each, three white, wingback, leather chairs sat pushed against the counter. Beneath her feet, the rich black carpet cushioned her step, even through her sandals. She slid one foot free and confirmed the softness when her toes touched the fibers.

  “Nice, huh?” Bri grinned. “Management pampers the girls.”

  “Don’t be so modest, Bri.” Dara giggled and squeezed the other woman’s shoulder as she glanced at Alex. “Bri is the one responsible for all this.”

  Bri dismissed Dara’s compliment with a wave of her hand. “C’mon, we’ll go into the Platinum Room. I checked earlier – there aren’t any reservations tonight.”

  “The rooms are reserved?” Alex squeaked.

  Bri nodded. “We got lucky. Normally they’re all booked.”

  Alex started to follow Bri out of the dressing area then stopped short. “Wait. Where is this room?”

  “On the other side of the club. The hallway that leads to the private areas are nearest the security area.”

  “That means I have to walk through the main part of the club.”

  Bri nodded slowly, as if she agreed but didn’t quite understand.

  “Dressed like this,” she finished.

  “Oh, yeah.” Bri smiled. “No big deal.”

  “Um, yeah. It is a big deal.”

  “Really Alex, you don’t look like yourself tonight. I highly doubt anyone will identify you.”

  “And if they do?”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake, Alex!” Marnie grabbed her hand and yanked her past Bri and out into the club. “Live a little. For once, just have a good time.”

  Without much of a choice, Alex followed behind Marnie through the dimly lit club, half of her tempted to duck and run the rest of the way to their destination. The other half, however, taunted her to take the stage and strut her stuff. Except, the threat of being recognized – or worse, murdered – threw a cold bucket of water on her wanton spirit.

  She allowed herself a cursory glance as Marnie continued to pull her toward the hallway. Girls of all shapes and sizes entertained gentlemen at tables, in corners, or on stage. Men of all walks of life. Businessmen, laborers, and …. Judges.

  Alex squinted to make sure she’d seen one particular patron correctly and then grinned at her discovery. “Well, well, well …..”

  “What?” Bri said from behind her.

  “Judge Bowman on your left.”

  Marnie cackled in front of her. “See? Now you have ammo.”

  “No.” Alex quickly averted her gaze. “I don’t even remotely want to know why he’s here or what kind of entertainment he’s experiencing. Besides, I’m not sure I could explain my own appearance.”

  “What about the wine?” Dara shouted over the music.

  “In the room,” Bri ans
wered.

  “Thank God,” Alex murmured.

  Although grateful when they finally left the main floor and entered the private hallway, more second thoughts assaulted her when she was forced to squint from the bright light.

  “They do this in broad daylight?”

  Bri giggled. “No, there’s a variety of lighting choices inside the room. The hallway is bright for surveillance.” Bri finally stopped at the last door and greeted a hulk of a man who typed in a code and then opened the door. Bri nudged Alex inside.

  Cautiously, she allowed her gaze to scan the room. Several seating alternatives were offered - a loveseat, sofa, and several oversized chairs sat against the walls. A table and four chairs occupied the middle, complete with a chilling bottle of wine and a clear view of a fairly large oval stage. Alex’s eyes widened so far she thought her eyeballs might pop from the sockets. One look at the pole planted in the middle told her exactly what her friend expected her to do.

  “Bri, you are completely out of your mind.”

  “No, she’s not.” Marnie shrugged as she and Dara sat in chairs at the table. “You have an amazing body and you look the part.” She reached for a bottle of wine, pushed the stop from the top, and then poured the liquid into a neighboring glass before she extended it in offering. “Swallow some wine and climb on the pole, Alex.”

  Alex gave Marnie a narrow-eyed glare, or at least she tried to through her slight alcohol haze. Climb on the pole? Seriously? She accepted the glass, downed the contents, and then handed it back to her friend before she pulled her mouth closed and stretched her lips into a grin. “Okay Bri, show me how to work that thing.”

  Marnie squealed and then released a string of maniacal giggles while Bri took her hand and led her up the set of stairs on the right side of the podium, thrusting her hips from side to side. “Start with a sexy strut – something that shows confidence.”

  Confidence? She had loads of confidence – just not in this particular arena. But who would know? The four of them were the only ones in this room and every one of them knew that ratting her out would cause undisputable death.