Dance for Me
Lara Stevens, a Boston detective has her hands full investigating a series of bizarre serial murders. She also has to deal with Reino Larkin, a man twelve years her junior. With several exotic dancers murdered, Lara goes undercover as a stripper at the club where the victims danced.
When Reino discovers his murdered friend had been an exotic dancer, he becomes a regular where she danced. Determined to find her murderer, night after night he sits in the club searching for clues. When Lara, the cool detective he'd spoken with at the BPD struts onto the stage, wearing a smile and little else, the heat rises and with it his protective instincts.
The lust in his eyes as he watches her on stage gets her juices flowing. Can Lara keep her professional kick ass attitude when all she wants is Reino?
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Length: 21,887 words
DANCE FOR ME
Pam Champagne
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
DANCE FOR ME
Copyright © 2009 by Pam Champagne
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-326-2
First E-book Publication: April 2009
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2009 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
To Gail Northman for believing in me. Thank you, my friend.
DANCE FOR ME
PAM CHAMPAGNE
Copyright © 2009
Chapter One
Detective Lara Stevens leaned her elbows on the desk and raked shaky fingers through her curls. The results of the medical examiner’s report danced in front of her eyes. She eyed the coffeepot across the room. One more cup and she’d be making monkey noises.
They’d discovered another murdered woman and not one damn clue. Gina Adams, twenty-one, found in an alley, asphyxiated, exactly like the other three. They’d found no fibers in her nose to prove she’d been smothered. Yet, the medical examiner determined the cause of death was suffocation.
A loud, angry voice from the front of the station drew Lara out of her funk. “I want to talk with whoever’s in charge.”
She bolted from her chair and peeked out her office door to see what the ruckus was about. Her toes curled inside the knee-high boots. The furious hunk of male flesh who’d just spoken belonged on a stud-of-the-month calendar.
He had to be six feet tall and sandy blond hair fell across his forehead, drawing her attention to the anger burning in his eyes. The guy was hot enough to melt snow in January. And young. Why were the hunky ones all so young? They’re not young. I’m old. She sighed. There was nothing she could do about it. She spent ninety percent of her free time at the gym to keep the inevitable body sags at bay and to push up this and firm up that.
Face the facts, Lara. In less than two years, you’ll turn the big four zero. Forty years old and what did she have to show for her life? Not a damn thing. Sure she had a career with the Boston Police Department. Big fucking deal. No family, no children. Not even any nieces and nephews since her parents decided they weren’t mommy and daddy material after she’d been born.
“What’s being done to find Corrine Gray’s murderer?”
Lara went on full alert at the hunk’s question. Corrine Gray was the third dead dancer. She brushed the lint off her black skirt, straightened the bottom of her white turtleneck sweater, patted her unruly curls and hurried down the hall.
“What seems to be the problem?” she asked in her best take-charge-of-the-situation voice.
The man turned in her direction. A wave of heat zapped her when his green-eyed gaze ran up and down her body. Nor did she miss the spark of ‘I like what I see’ that flashed in his eyes.
“Are you in charge here?” he asked in a calmer tone of voice.
Lara held out her hand. “Detective Stevens. And you are…?”
“Reino Larkin.”
Reino? A Norse name. Yeah, he could pass for a Norse god. “What can I do for you?” She crossed her arms over her breasts, hoping to hide the tightening of her nipples. It was her luck to have chosen a sweater this morning instead of her usual loose fitting blouse.
A glimmer of amusement appeared on his face. He knew, damn him. Lara silently cursed the butterflies flitting below her waistband. Great. She had the hots for a man who might be able to shed some light on the case. So far, she hadn’t found anyone with much information on any of the dead women.
Lara tapped her foot and spoke brusquely. “Well?”
The Norse god’s expression became serious. “Corrine Gray was a friend of mine. I want to know what’s being done to find her murderer.”
Two officers entered the station, dragging a spitting-mad drunk between them. The man broke away and tried to hightail it out the door. Chaos erupted.
“Let’s discuss this in private.” Lara waved a hand to indicate he follow her. Once in her office, he sat in a hard wooden chair in front of her desk. She closed the door and settled in her seat, grateful for the huge piece of oak between them.
She leaned on her elbows and steepled her fingers. “What exactly is your connection to Corrine Gray?”
He hesitated long enough to send her antenna up. “We take the same night class at Northeastern. We hit it off and became friends.”
“What kind of class?”
“Business, not that it’s relevant to case.”
Lara bristled. “I’ll decide what’s relevant and what isn’t. Were you lovers?”
Reino’s hands clenched around the arms of the chair. A definite sore spot. “I said we were friends. What part of that don’t you understand?”
Lara shrugged. “Standard questions. Surely someone has asked it before?”
“By who? I didn’t even find out Corrine was dead until I called her two days ago. She hadn’t been in class for a few weeks and I got worried. I called and got a message saying her number was no longer in service, so I went to check on her. One of the other tenants told me she’d been murdered.”
“Where were you on th
e night of December fifth?”
The eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“Not at all. Standard questions.”
He glanced at the calendar on her desk. “Having dinner with my parents in the western part of the state. Would you like their number so you can verify my alibi?”
Lara stayed focused, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice. “Yes, please. How long had Corrine been stripping?”
He picked up the pad of paper on her desk, jotted down a telephone number and handed it to her. “I had no idea she…danced for a living. She never mentioned it. Corrine was wholesome, you know, down to earth. She didn’t seem like the type of girl to…”
Lara waited for him to finish his thought, but he remained silent. “Didn’t seem like the sort of girl to take off her clothes in front of strangers?”
His eyes turned icy. Good thing those green glacial orbs weren’t harmful or she’d be dead meat.
“Yeah, well, ninety percent of women who strip—dance,” she amended, “lead secret lives. Some are even married. Their husbands don’t have a clue that their wives who bake cookies during the day turn into exotic dancers at night.”
Lara wondered if Reino had a steady girlfriend then mentally chastised herself. Cradle robbing? Had it come to this?
She cleared her throat. “Corinne danced at the Beaver Lodge.”
“Christ. Where do they come up with those names?”
Lara glanced up. “Excuse me?”
Reino shook his head and brushed a golden lock off his forehead. “Beaver Lodge?”
Lara’s lips twitched. “I take it you’ve never been to the club?”
“Can’t say that I have. I’m sure I’d remember such a…distinguished name.”
“Did you know Lois Banks, Donna Parkman or Gina Adams?”
“No. Should I?”
“Corrine never mentioned them?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Not that I remember. She never talked about her friends. I’m not sure she had any. Other than me. Who are they?”
“Three other murdered dancers. All four worked at the Beaver Lodge.” By now the itch between her thighs drove her nuts. She needed to distance herself from Reino Larkin. Lara pushed away from the desk and gathered her papers. “If you leave me your telephone number, Mr. Larkin, I’ll be sure to call you when we have something to report. Corrine’s neighbors had no idea where her family lives. Do you know anything about her relatives? Parents? Brothers? Sisters?”
Reino’s gaze worked its way up her body and lingered on her breasts. Moisture seeped into her panties. “I don’t think she had any family,” he said. “I got the impression she was on her own. Had been for years. What about a funeral?”
No doubt about it. Not only was this guy hot, he was considerate as well…and young. “Her body’s at the morgue. We’d hoped to be able to locate her family.”
“I’ll pay for the funeral and arrange for burial.”
Red flags popped up. “That’s very generous of you.”
His eyes narrowed as he intently watched her face. Christ! The man read her thoughts. “Everyone deserves a decent burial.” His soft voice dared her to deny it. “Don’t you agree?”
“Of course.” She jotted the address of the morgue on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “As soon as the medical examiner gives the go ahead, you can make the arrangements.”
He reached for the paper, his touch sending a spark through Lara. His thumb lingered on her palm. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch.”
Reino seemed in no hurry to leave. He leaned back and stretched out his legs, drawing her attention to the muscles in his thighs straining against the material of his jeans. She forced herself to look away before her gaze wandered to more private areas.
“Is there anything else I can do to help?” he asked.
Oh man. I can think of plenty of things. “I’ll let you know. Good bye.”
Reino rose from the chair, towering over her five foot two inches. She took several steps backward.
“Are you afraid of me, Lara?”
“Detective Stevens to you.” God, she sounded like an old maid school teacher. “Of course not.”
“Have dinner with me tonight. We’ll discuss Corinne.”
The burning lust in Reino’s eyes told her Corinne was the last thing on his mind. Her gaze slid to the front of his jeans. She swallowed hard. How simple it would be to lock the door and enjoy the bulge in his pants.
“No thank you, Mr. Larkin.” Lara controlled herself and all but shoved him out of her office. Shutting the door, she rested against the wood, waiting for her heart to return to its normal beat. Could she be going through her second childhood? The change of life? Nah. Surely, she was too young.
The door opened, and she catapulted out of the room.
“What the hell...” Catching her balance, she whirled and glared at the man tormenting her thoughts. Words stuck in her throat. There it was again. The lazy amusement in his eyes.
“You don’t have my phone number.” He grinned. “How can you call me?”
“Right,” she managed. “Leave it with the desk sergeant. And knock before you open doors in a police station.”
This time when she closed the door, she turned the lock.
* * * *
“I’ll be out the rest of the day,” Lara said as she breezed by the front desk several hours later. “Officially, off the clock. But call if you need me.” She zipped her sheepskin-lined suede jacket and fished her keys from its pocket as she jogged down the cement stairs. By January, winter in New England got to be a pain in the ass. Lara found nothing beautiful about dirty, engine exhaust colored snow. Christmas season had passed. Now everyone waited for spring.
She turned left and walked through the gray slush on the sidewalk. Footsteps dogged her heels. Ever vigilant, she stopped and bent as if to pick up something. In a single fluid motion, she straightened her hand on the weapon safely ensconced in a shoulder harness beneath her coat and came face-to-face with Reino Larkin. “Following a police officer?”
A grin spread across his face. There was a flag of color in his cheeks. Was he embarrassed or just cold?
“I’d like to ride with you, if you’re working on the exotic dancer case.”
Various thoughts ping-ponged in Lara’s mind. On one hand, letting him tag along could be beneficial. Having a man in tow in the scummiest part of the city was a good thing. On the other hand, Reino might be a distraction she couldn’t afford. It wasn’t his fault he had a face and body that got her engine running. Besides, involving a civilian wouldn’t go over big with the brass.
“I’ll follow you if you say no.”
“I’m off the clock. You can come, as long as you stay out of my way and don’t ask questions.”
He fell in step beside her. She stopped at her mid-sized sedan and unlocked the passenger door.
His agreement to keep quiet lasted five minutes.
“Are you always so serious?”
Lara maneuvered down Washington Street toward the alley where they’d discovered the most recent body. “No questions. Remember the deal?”
“Sorry,” he replied, his voice dry. “Forgot myself for a minute.”
Large snow flakes big enough to see individual intricate designs began falling from the dismal sky. Lara frowned. She hadn’t heard anything about a storm. She flipped on the wipers and cranked up the heat.
Ten minutes later, she spied a man propped against a building, so she slowed and parked in front of a hydrant. Eddie McKinney, who had no home, no teeth and a torn jacket, stood outside the EZ Pawn shop under a sign that said, ‘No Loitering.’ He drank from a bottle in a paper bag. Rot Gut vodka would be her guess since that was his brew of choice.
“Stay here,” she ordered Reino.
She cut the engine, opened the door and slid out, pocketing her keys. She made her way to Eddie, careful to step over splotches of vomit and other questionable substances half-frozen on
the sidewalk. Alcohol mixed with other unpleasant body odors wafted off the homeless man.
“Eddie, how goes the battle?”
“Hey, Lara, long time no see,” the vagrant said, casting his paranoid gaze to the right and left. “What brings you to this part of the city?”
“The body discovered in the alley over there,” Lara answered with a gesture of her head.
“Yeah, too bad…the girl being so young and all.” He took a long swig from the bag.
“Know anything about it?”
His bushy brows rose an inch above his eyes. “Me? You know me. I mind my own business. It’s a matter of survival.”
Lara dug into her purse and pulled out a twenty. “Sure you didn’t see something? Some stranger passing through?”
Eddie’s eyes did another dance around the area. When he was certain no one was watching, his hand snaked out and grabbed the bill which he stuffed in the ripped pocket of his old army parka. “A late model Lincoln was cruising the area that night. Dark tinted windows.”
“Get a look at the license plate?” she asked without much hope.
“Nope.”
“If you see it again, give me a call.” Lara handed him her card and started to walk away.
Eddie spoke, stopping her in her tracks. “Hey, Lara. A nice white man in that Lincoln gave me money that night. Just walked up and said, ‘Here. A late Christmas present.’ Thought about heading south where it’s warm, but got a half-gallon of vodka and a room for a couple of nights instead.”
Lara schooled her expression and controlled her excitement. Someone had paid Eddie to turn a blind eye to seeing the car. This might be the break she needed. “Can you describe him?”
Eddie shrugged. “Wore a fancy suit under an expensive overcoat. Collar pulled up around his face. Sunglasses. Taller than me. Dark hair.”
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