In a Bad Way

by Karin Tabke

  “Ryker,” she responded.

  He felt Pink’s eyes on him and knew that if he looked down at her, she’d know. So he kept his eyes averted.

  The silence that had descended around them at her greeting, and the correct assumption from the guys and Pink that Flynn and Sonia had had a fling, was louder than an explosion. Flynn had to hand it to Pink, though; she stood comfortable in her own skin as she met each man’s gaze and Sonia’s with an unwavering one of her own. One of Justin’s men, Maddox Price, who had been at the bachelor party, turned just as he was pouring a cup of coffee. His jaw dropped as he halted his action midstream. Flynn’s mood deteriorated. When Price flashed his megawatt smile, Flynn’s hands fisted.

  “Hello again, Wild Style,” Price said, his voice low and gravelly. The tone left no doubt about what he was thinking.

  “Miss Fuentes to you, Price,” Flynn growled.

  Price set the coffeepot back on the burner, then his coffee cup next to it, never taking his eyes off Pink. “Miss Fuentes,” he said stepping toward her, extending his right hand. “Maddox Price at your service.”

  Flynn just bet he was. Probably getting a hard-on remembering what was under her top. Son of a bitch!

  Pink smiled, a slight blush pinkening her cheeks. As she shook his hand, she batted her eyelashes. “Thank you, Mr. Price,” she said softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Flynn could have sworn he heard the guys behind him inhale painfully. Yeah, she had that effect on each one of them. Flynn cursed himself for bringing her here. It bugged the shit out of him that Justin and Maddox had seen her half-naked, giving him a lap dance.

  Damn it all to hell. It was too late now, and despite his feelings, he knew he had made the right call.

  That didn’t prevent Flynn from spearing Price with a glare that had no effect on him at all. The bastard kept Pink’s hand in his and stood grinning at her like the fool he was. Flynn knew exactly what was going through the guy’s mind’s eye. Justin’s too, even though Justin had a steady girl. How could any red-blooded man get the vision of Pink’s lush tits out of his head?

  Clearing his throat, Flynn moved toward the interloper, but said for all of the gathered men and woman, “I explained to Miss Fuentes that I’d be introducing her to a group of professionals.”

  In unison they nodded, agreeing quickly, dragging their eyes from her and back to their tablets on the conference table. When Price continued to hold Pink’s hand, she smiled and tactfully disengaged. Then she moved to stand beside Flynn, giving the impression to the room that she was with him.

  Shooting Price a stay-the-hell-away glare, Flynn pulled out a chair beside him and indicated Pink sit there. When she did, Flynn pushed her in and continued, “Miss Fuentes has a problem that we may be able to help her with and she in turn may be able to help us out with a problem of our own.”

  Taking the seat beside her, Flynn made it clear she was under his protection. Justin nodded and moved around to the head of the table and his laptop. “Miss Fuentes, is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”

  “Yes, as long as you reciprocate.”

  He smiled. “I’ll answer what I can for you.”

  “Okay, then ask away.”

  “How long have you been working at the Surf’s Up club on O’Farrell?”

  “Three months.”

  He made a notation, then looked up and asked, “What are your duties there?”

  “I cocktail and as of this past Saturday, I was promoted to stripper.” She said the words as if she were promoted to head accountant. No embarrassment or explanation, just a simple statement of fact.

  Flynn cringed inside, but watched the reaction of the assembled task force members at the table. Each one of them, including Jackson, had their poker face on. Good thing, because he wasn’t in the mood to call one of them out for a snicker or sneer.

  “As a stripper, what are your duties?”

  Folding her hands on the table she said candidly, “Well, most of the girls dance and strip on stage, but Andre just wants me to do private parties for now. Like the one you, Maddox, and Flynn attended Saturday night.”

  Justin cleared his throat, Price had the decency to look up at the ceiling and Flynn was fighting a mighty hard- on. Everything about Saturday night flooded his memory banks.

  “Do we need specifics, Justin, or can we just move on?” Flynn bit out.

  “I’d like to know the specifics,” Jackson said, sitting forward.

  Flynn opened his mouth to tell her to back down, but Pink put her hand on his, squeezed it, and said, “I’d be happy to explain, Officer Jackson.”

  “It’s sergeant,” Jackson corrected.

  “Sergeant Jackson,” Pink said, sweeping her gaze across the antagonistic woman’s face, then to her left hand where there was no wedding ring. “Would you like a demonstration on how to get and hold a man’s attention?”

  Flynn bit his lip, Price snorted, and Justin smirked before saying, “Let’s move on, shall we?”

  Jackson shot Flynn a harsh glare, but sat back, knowing she was going to make a fool out of herself if she pushed. She might be one of the guys, but none of the men in the room were going to allow her to pick on Pink.

  Justin glanced at his laptop, then at Pink. “Do you have keys to the building?”

  “No. Only Boris, Andre, and Sherry the bookkeeper.”

  “What type of access do you have to the interior areas of the club?”

  “All areas except Boris’s office. That’s locked when he isn’t there.”

  Making the notation, Justin picked up a thick manila folder from the table. As he came around the table, he sat down beside Pink and opened the folder. It held a stack of 8-by-10 color photos. He spread them out in front of her and asked, “Do you recognize any of these men by sight or name?”

  As she leaned across the table in Flynn’s direction to get a better look at the dozen or so pictures lined up on the tabletop, he tensed when her knee slid against the outside of his thigh. The contact struck him with the heat of a laser beam. Despite the full room, he pressed his thigh against hers, enjoying the contact.

  “I recognize some of them, but only a few by name.” She moved three to the side and pointed to the next three photos. “They were in last week. Boris’s office. It was very hush-hush, but I took them drinks. That one called this one Josef; they were talking about a man named Miroslav. I don’t know the other’s name.” She moved them aside and as she reached for two more photos, her right breast nudged his forearm. The contact caught them both off guard. Pink glanced at Flynn, her cheeks flushed.

  Flynn steeled himself. When she bent farther across the table, the pressure of her warmth nearly killed him. Damn it was hot in that room. When she pulled two more from the spread and sat back, relief flooded him. He looked up to find Justin’s brooding gaze on him.

  “This is Sasha,” Pink said, pointing to the picture of a dark-haired younger man. “He comes in every Friday night, likes his vodka warm, and tips well. Sometimes he comes in with a satchel, but he always leaves with one. This other guy is Maks. I think he’s related to Boris, maybe his nephew, because when he comes in and harasses the girls, Andre doesn’t call him out on it. Most of girls have dated him.” She said, air quoting dated.

  “Have you?” Jackson asked.

  Pink inhaled sharply at the insult. Flynn turned on his one-afternoon stand. “You have a problem with me, Jackson, fine but leave Miss Fuentes out of it.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Ryker. My question’s legit. If she’s dating any of these guys, how can we trust her?”

  Flynn stood up. Placing his hands palm down on the conference table, he leaned over it and into Jackson’s space. “She’s not fucking any of them now and hasn’t fucked any of them in the past.”

  “You know this how?” Jackson asked, and smirked.

  “My sex life is no one’s business but mine, Sergeant Jackson,” Pink said calmly. “That said, the answer to your question is no, I ha
ven’t dated or been intimate with any of the men or women who frequent the club.”

  “Thank you, Miss Fuentes,” Justin said. “Is there more than one way to access the office?”

  “No, just the one entry. It has several deadbolts, and a guard outside the door when Boris is in-house.”

  “How often is he in-house?”

  “A few times a month.”

  “Does he have a regular day?”

  “The club is only open Wednesday through Saturday. He shows up different days and times.”

  Justin typed in notes. When he looked up from his laptop, he looked thoughtfully at Pink. “How much do you know about Boris’s side business of blackmail videos?”

  Pink pushed the pictures away and straightened in her chair. “What does any of that have to do with finding my sister?”

  “Who is your sister?” Justin asked.

  Surprised, Pink looked at Flynn. “You didn’t tell them?”

  “Not my story to tell. That’s yours.”

  Her lips parted, her white teeth catching the tip of her pink tongue.

  “You asked me to keep your secret. I gave you my word.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Caught up in the emotion flickering in her eyes, Flynn smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. He’d just scored major points with her. “Your secret is safe with every man in this room,” Flynn said, then looked pointedly at Jackson, who nodded. “And woman.”

  “Okay,” she said, her voice as trusting as a child’s. But her tone didn’t fool Flynn. Pink had a steel rod running through her.

  “For us to be able to help you, you’re going to have to be transparent. About everything.” Flynn nudged her chin up with his hand. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” God help Jackson if she went after Pink again.

  “Yes,” she said, her breathless voice shooting straight to his dick. Pink turned to Justin and said, “Alexandra Chastain, Senator Chastain’s daughter, is my half sister.”

  Confusion flashed across Justin’s face.

  “I thought he only had one daughter,” Price said.

  Pink shook her head. “He has two. I’m his dirty little secret.”

  Justin pursed his lips, but nodded. “Let’s back up, Miss Fuentes. Tell me what you know about Boris’s blackmail video business and how you came to know about it.”

  “My sister called me a little over three months ago, begging for my help. She said she was in trouble.”

  “Excuse me for interrupting, but did she say what kind of trouble?” Justin asked.

  Pink nodded. “First she said, she thought someone was trying to kill her. Then later in the conversation she said, ‘I think it’s him’.”

  “Who is him?”

  “I don’t know. And I didn’t believe her,” Izzy whispered looking at her hands in her lap then back to Justin. “We’d been estranged for thirteen years so I wasn’t very receptive. She told me was working at the Surf’s Up club and asked me to meet her that day to talk. I refused and hung up on her.” Pink swallowed, her voice full of emotion. “I felt bad and a few days later called her. Her phone was disconnected. I went to the club and asked about her, I was told by Sherry, the bookkeeper, that she no longer worked there. I called the cops and asked if there was a missing persons report filed on my sister, they said no.”

  “Didn’t you think that was odd?”

  “Yes and no. Apparently my sister had been working at the club for some time. I’m sure her mother gave birth to a cow or two over that news. My father?” She shrugged. “He’s a politician. For all I know he had her shipped off to a dark corner of world so she wouldn’t hurt his chances of getting reelected.” As she said the words, Flynn caught Justin’s gaze.

  They were thinking the same thing.

  “Did you confront your father?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have nothing to say to him, and even if I asked him, he wouldn’t tell me anything. So I took matters into my own hands. I went back to the club and got hired to pick up cocktail shifts for girls who called in sick or were no shows.”

  Pink looked at Flynn, and then back to her captured audience.

  “I used my tip money to buy information about Jasmyn, that’s my sister’s stripper name. I paid a lot of money for zero information. I showed up on time and did a good job and Andre, the manager, started giving me better shifts and tables. When I went to him directly and asked about Jasmyn, he told me only Boris had that information. But if I wanted it bad enough he would ask Boris on my behalf. If, I would make a video. I refused but then he told me the last girl to make a video was Jasmyn. Andre made it sound like Jasmyn made the video, handed it over to Boris who then paid her a large sum of money and she walked out the door never to be heard from again. I don’t believe Boris gave her a dime and I don’t believe she walked out of there either. Someone took her.”

  “Explain the process in detail, please,” Justin asked levelly.

  “Andre came to me in my dressing room this past Saturday night, saying there was a bunch of cops in for a private party. He wanted me to cut one from the herd, slip him the mickey Andre provided me, and once he was drugged, take him somewhere and make a compromising video of the two of us. I give the video to Andre, he then gives it to Boris and return he would get me the information I wanted. What Boris was going to do with it, I don’t know.” She looked at Flynn and had the decency to blush. “But I can guess.”

  “And did you cut one from the herd, drug him, and make a video?” Justin prompted.

  “Well, yes and no. I did cut one from the herd, and I did slip him the mickey, but he was on to me and, well, the night didn’t go as I had planned.”

  “How did it go?” Price asked.

  “None of your business, Price,” Flynn barked.

  “If it’s relevant—” He tried to defend himself.

  “It’s not. So leave it alone,” Flynn bit out. He looked at Justin for some help.

  “I don’t understand what all of this has to do with you helping me find Alex,” Pink stated. “I’ve been working at that dump for over three months because of her. The only reason I’m here is because Flynn said you might be able to help me.”

  “Settle down, Wild Style,” Price said.

  Flynn stood so fast his chair fell back against the wall. “You’re being a disrespectful asshole, Price.”

  “Knock it off, Maddox,” Justin commanded. As Flynn stared down the younger man, he had the common sense to nod.

  “My apologies, Miss Fuentes.”

  “I’ve been called a lot worse than my working name, Mr. Price. I doubt anything that comes out of your mouth can hurt me.”

  Pride swelled in Flynn’s chest. He loved that she never made excuses for who she was or what she did. She’d more than held her own in here. She was an amazing woman who had put herself in a vulnerable position where people like Jackson and, Flynn cringed, himself, thought less of her because she took her clothes off. It shouldn’t matter why she did it; she chose to. Seeing the ugliness of it all made Flynn ashamed of himself. He should take a page out of her lesson book.

  “I would never intentionally cause you harm, Miss Fuentes,” Price said, properly put in his place. The other men around the table shook their heads like he was the village idiot.

  “Miss Fuentes,” Justin said, “We’ve had our eyes on the club for some time now. Unfortunately we don’t have the manpower to have eyes on the club twenty-four seven, so your intel is invaluable. Thank you. While I can’t speak to anything specific regarding your sister at the moment, I promise to look into her disappearance immediately. In so doing, I would caution you, not to make any contact with your father or his wife, or anyone associated with Surf’s Up except as it pertains to your job there.” Justin looked at Flynn. Message received. He’d back off.

  He typed in notes, then looked back at Pink and smiled. Flynn knew that smile. The Trust-me-I’m-the-hero-I-won’t-lie-to-you-smile. “But whil
e you’re here, I’d like as much information as you’re willing to provide us.”

  Pink nodded. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

  Justin went straight to the heart of the matter. “How many times have you drugged a Surf’s Up patron and videoed them in a compromising position?”

  Pink’s eyes popped open. “That was my first time!” She glanced at Flynn, then back to Justin. Then said under her breath, “I had a lot of firsts that night.”

  Flynn wanted to pull her into his arms and assure her this was almost over.

  “I’m assuming you’re going to be in trouble with Andre if you don’t deliver the goods?” Justin asked.

  Pink shivered. “Yes, he’s not the kind of man who gives you a pep talk and tells you to try again.”

  “Is he under the impression you have a video?”

  “I told him I had one, but that it was on my phone and the phone was stolen at my gym.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it.”

  “Um,” she looked at Flynn, who nodded, urging her to tell the truth, as much as it might embarrass them both. “There was a video, but it was destroyed. The stolen phone part was a lie to buy time.”

  “What was Andre’s reaction to your story?”

  Biting her bottom lip, she looked at Flynn, then back at Justin. “He told me to make another one and that if I didn’t he would hurt me.”

  “Jesus Christ, Pink, why the hell am I just hearing about it now?” Flynn ejaculated.

  “It’s been a pretty eventful day, it slipped my mind.”

  “How would you like us to help you out of your jam, Miss Fuentes?” Justin asked, calmly bypassing the storm.

  “I don’t know exactly,” Pink said. “What did you have in mind?”

  Justin’s eyes glittered with excitement. He looked at Flynn, then to Pink. Flynn had the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to like what Justin was about to propose.

  “Using you and Flynn, we’ll create what appears to be a compromising video, which you can deliver to Andre.”

  “Hold the fuck up,” Flynn said, standing. “No sex video.”

  Justin’s jaw tightened. “We’re not in the porn business, Ryker.”