Dance for Me

by Pam Champagne

A fleeting look of pity crossed his face. “Oh.” He dumped the remains of his mug into the sink. “I’m sure with Eddie’s death, you’ll have a lot to do at the station. I’ll see you in a few days.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and walked out.

  The door had no sooner shut when the phone rang. She grabbed it on the second ring. “Yes? Okay, thanks for the call.” Her heart sank, although she’d instinctively known. No clues found at the scene of the crime. No witnesses. At least none that would agree to talk.

  Lara grabbed her coat from the closet and left the apartment determined to immerse herself in the investigation and forget about Reino Larkin.

  Chapter Five

  Lara shook off the blues and smiled as she picked up the skimpy Santa costume she’d found at a local thrift store a few days ago. Even though Christmas had come and gone, the clientele at the Beaver Lodge wouldn’t care. The hat had more material than the G-string and small top combined. The knee-high boots were made of soft white leather.

  It had been over a month since the fourth murder. By now the perp should be chomping at the bit to kill again.

  Perhaps he still played the choking game to experience the ultimate climax, but hadn’t killed the women. Lara sighed. Being stuck on a treadmill couldn’t be less productive than she’d been lately.

  She’d not heard a word from Reino. Since he’d walked out of her apartment five days ago, she’d had difficulty organizing her thoughts. In a span of a few weeks, the man had managed to worm his way into her head and, worse, into her heart. There was no one to blame except herself for the pain and humiliation she experienced now. She’d known for Christ’s sake. Known, but did it anyway. Went and fell in love with him.

  She lobbed the red G-string at the wall and looked around the room for something else to throw.

  The tension with Hank hadn’t lessened. He spoke to her when necessary, and she often caught his harsh disapproving look. His nose was out of joint because she’d chosen Reino’s company over his. She didn’t tell him she and Reino were no longer an item. As long as he believed otherwise, Hank kept his distance.

  She sat in front of the mirror applying makeup and was just putting on her lipstick when the shrill peal of the doorbell startled her. Her hand slipped, smearing a streak of red across her cheek.

  “Shit,” she muttered and grabbed a tissue to scrub it off. Hank wasn’t due for another thirty minutes. “You’re early,” she barked as she opened the door.

  Only it wasn’t Hank who stood there with a huge smile on his face and flowers in his hand. Reino ran his thumb over her cheek. “Practicing a new routine? As a clown perhaps?”

  Before she weighed the wisdom of her thoughts, she blurted, “What do you want? Hank will be here shortly.”

  “I missed you, too,” he replied, pushing past her.

  Lara dogged his heels as he strode to the kitchen, got a vase and arranged the flowers. This time he’d brought red roses. “Did you miss me?”

  Lara counted to ten. “Reino, what are you doing here?”

  “That’s a stupid question.”

  He’d disappeared for five days and she was asking stupid questions? Lara decided to ignore him and returned to the bedroom to clean her face. Two minutes later, Reino stood behind her. “Sorry I haven’t been in touch. Family business. Are you back dancing at the club?”

  Maybe she could freeze him out. “Yep.”

  “You and Hank got any idea why the guy hasn’t made a move yet?”

  “Nope.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Dancing tonight?”

  Lara stiffened. “Yep.”

  “Why don’t you punch me? I was an ass. I apologize.”

  The idea of slugging him tempted her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lara squeaked as he lifted her off her chair and tossed her on the bed. “Shall I refresh your memory?”

  “No. I remember,” she muttered.

  “Good.” He stood beside the bed and suddenly burst into laughter.

  She pushed up onto her elbows. “What’s so funny?”

  Reino walked to a framed picture on the wall and plucked off the G-string she’d thrown earlier.”

  “I hope you never consider a job as an interior decorator.”

  Lara’s face heated, and she rolled off the bed. “I have a bit of a temper.”

  “No kidding. Busy after work?”

  Her heart thumped. Tell him to get lost, you fool. “No.”

  “I’ll give you a ride home. What’s the matter,” he asked when she turned away.

  “I think it’s best if you just come here.”

  “Old Hank giving you a hard time?”

  “A bit,” she admitted with reluctance.

  “Why do you care what he thinks?”

  Lara lied. “I don’t.”

  “Then ride home with me tonight.”

  She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “You and I have fun together. That’s all. Don’t start telling me what to do.”

  The silence in the room dragged on, and Lara braced herself for an argument. She couldn’t fathom the expression on Reino’s face. The hardness in his eyes was far different from their usual twinkle. “I’m disappointed in you,” he said finally.

  Lara glanced at the clock. “Hank will be here momentarily.”

  A bitter smile spread over his face. “And that’s my cue to get lost.” He gave her a mock salute and walked away.

  Lara gripped the edge of the dresser to keep herself from running after him like some love-struck teenager. Until now, Reino had taken everything in stride. He’d never tried to interfere in her job or her life. Maybe his anger was for the best. He’d walk away and she’d never see him again. Why didn’t that thought bring her satisfaction? Perhaps because her times with Reino had been some of the happiest in her life.

  * * * *

  Reino sat at the bar and nursed his beer. His visit with Lara hadn’t gone as planned. Granted, he’d behaved like an ass the last time he’d seen her.

  For the first time he was possessive of a woman, concerned for her safety. In a few short weeks she’d become the most important thing in his life. Put bluntly, he was scared shitless. Afraid of losing himself—afraid of losing her. It became one and the same. He’d needed time and space to think it over. For five miserable days, all he’d done was think about her. Tonight, he’d spill his guts and she’d listen, even if he had to hold her down.

  Lost in his thoughts, he paid little attention when someone sat on the barstool beside him. “Still sniffing after Lara?”

  Reino’s hand tightened on the neck of his bottle. He met Hank’s gaze and forced a congenial smile. Tonight, the cop looked like any other man at the club. Just another customer here to see some prime feminine flesh. “Good evening, Detective.”

  “Leave her alone, Larkin.”

  “What gives you the prerogative to choose Lara’s friends?”

  Hank’s face was a classic study of a man teetering on the edge of losing his cool. “I’m making it my business.”

  “Sorry,” Reino said, turning his attention back to the dancer on stage. “I’ve always had a problem following orders.”

  “Hurt Lara and I’ll hunt you down.”

  Reino drained the beer in his bottle. “Duly noted.” His gaze followed the older man’s stiff back as he headed toward the far wall.

  A glance at his watch told Reino that Lara would be on stage in about ten minutes. He caught the bartender’s attention and ordered another beer. Sitting on this barstool was getting way too old. Lara’s job would constantly involve shit like this. Could he be happy in a relationship with a cop?

  * * * *

  Her cue song began. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree. If something didn’t break this week, Lara was done with this undercover assignment. “We’ve had enough,” the muscles in her legs screamed as she pranced onto the stage. Couldn’t agree more, guys.

  The smoky interior irritated her already dry eyes. Ea
ch night she found it more difficult to give the audience what they expected—sultry smiles and sexy antics. She managed to dance her way through the end of the song. She’d seen Reino at the bar but had made it a point to ignore his presence.

  Back in her cubicle to change, she called “come in” at the knock on the door. Expecting Steven, her heart skipped a few beats when in the mirror she saw the dark-skinned man who’d been a regular in the club every night since she’d started dancing. He’d made no move before, so she’d mentally written him off as a suspect. She’d decided he was just one of the normal perverts who frequented the club on a regular basis.

  She tightened her robe and swung around to face him. “You’re violating the club’s policy. Get out.”

  Thick lips curved into what he probably considered a smile. Actually, he looked more like an alligator ready to devour an unsuspecting rabbit sitting on the edge of the swamp. “Steven mentioned you might be interested in some extra money.”

  Her heartbeat tripled. Feigning disinterest, she turned back to the mirror and continued to remove her makeup with a moist pad. “Might be. What’re the particulars?”

  He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and casually rested against the paper thin wall. “Tonight. I’ll take you there.”

  She met his gaze in the mirror and arched her brows. “Think I’m crazy? I need a hell of lot more information than that. What’s your name?”

  “My name’s not important. I’m just the messenger. It’s a one on one situation. My client’s well-known. It’d be bad for his reputation to be seen in a place like this.”

  Lara barely contained her excitement. Could this be the break they’d been waiting for? “Did Steven fill you in about my terms?”

  “I don’t deal with Steven. This is strictly between you and my client.”

  She grinned. “More money for me.”

  He chuckled, telling her she’d said the right thing.

  “I’ll be waiting at the bar. Meet me there as soon as you’re dressed.” His hand moved to the doorknob.

  “Hey! Wait a damn minute,” she protested. “I haven’t agreed to anything. What’s this client of yours expecting? Private strip show? A lap dance? Give me some details. And I wanna know what he’s paying.”

  The messenger, as he’d termed himself, gave an exaggerated sigh. “The guy wants to fuck. You up for that?”

  “Nothing kinky? No threesomes? Animals?”

  Another creepy chuckle. “Nothing like that.”

  “What’s he willing to pay?”

  “A grand the minute you walk in the door. More if he likes what he gets.”

  Lara rose, took two steps and held out her hand. “You have yourself a deal. Give me ten minutes.” She barely controlled a shudder when the creep ran his thumb along her palm. She quickly pulled her fingers from his grip.

  As soon as the door closed, she counted to ten before fishing her cell phone out of her purse to call Hank. “Tonight might be the night.” She hurriedly gave him the details.

  “Finally,” Hank said. “This club depresses me. I’ve got your back. Once you’re inside the suspect’s place, I’ll give you twenty minutes before I come in.”

  Lara flipped the cell shut, dropped it in her purse and left the room. She entered the dim club from the dank hallway, her gaze straying to the bar. Disappointment warred with relief. Reino was gone. Maybe he’d be sitting in his car in front of her apartment building when she got home. After the way she’d treated him, she’d be lucky if he ever called again.

  With a deep inhale she straightened her shoulders and walked toward the exit, a spring in her step. She actually managed not to flinch when the messenger took her by the elbow and steered her out the door to a Lincoln sitting by the curb with the engine running. Lara stumbled and would have fallen if not for the hand on her arm. The car matched the description of the one Eddie had seen.

  The creep opened the passenger door, and Lara slid into the front seat. Before he shut it, Lara turned to her driver still standing on the curb. “I have to call you something. What’s your name?”

  He hesitated, his dark eyes boring into hers. “Mack.”

  The smell of new leather filled her nose. This guy sure as hell didn’t lack for money. Once Mack climbed in behind the wheel, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a red silk scarf. “I have to blindfold you. My client is very particular about no one knowing where he lives.”

  Lara’s mouth went dry. “I don’t think so.”

  Mack shrugged and rested his hands on the steering wheel. “Guess the deal’s off. I’ve got my orders.”

  Lara’s gaze slid to the side-view mirror. Hank’s car was two empty parking spaces behind. The neon light from the Beaver Lodge illuminated the car’s interior. Hank drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. This might be their only opportunity to catch the maniac who’d already murdered four women. Hank was the best backup she could ask for. “All right,” she said, not having to fake the quiver in her voice.

  Mack leaned over and gently tied the scarf around her head, effectively obliterating her vision. The car pulled away. Lara tried to remember the sequence of left and right turns, but abandoned the effort after a short while. It felt like they were driving around the same block over and over. She trusted her partner. She and Hank had discussed whether she should carry her weapon and decided against it. If Mack searched her, a gun would blow her cover.

  After what seemed like an hour, the car slowed to a stop. Mack cut the engine. She heard him get out of the car. When her door opened, she raised her hands to rid herself of the scarf. Two beefy hands grasped hers. “Not until you’re inside.”

  None too gently her chauffer started to drag her out of the car. Lara groped for her purse and managed to grasp it before he yanked her outside. “Hey, Mack,” she said, backing away from his hold. “Go easy. I might just rethink this gig.”

  His grip eased, and he muttered something she didn’t catch. They walked along a cobblestone sidewalk.

  “Steps ahead,” Mack said. Lara used the toes of her boots to guide her. She’d never look at a blind person in the same way again. Every day had to be a challenge.

  A soft buzz told her that Mack had used a card or code to enter the building. Fifteen steps later they were on an elevator. A fast one. This had to be a new building because the carpet under her feet was thick. The elevator doors opened and they exited to the left. A short distance down the hall they entered a room on the right.

  Mack removed the scarf and slid the coat from her shoulders, tossing it on a huge, overstuffed chair. Lara blinked several times and swallowed a surprised gasp.

  The apartment reeked of money. Candles burned on the coffee table, filling the room with the strong scent of bayberry. Could she be wrong? Her instincts told her no—even if the guy did appear to have class.

  Lara took two steps to the chair where Mack had put her purse, along with her coat.

  “What are you doing?” Mack asked from the kitchenette visible to the living area.

  “I had a date tonight. I forgot to cancel.” She searched her purse. The cell phone was missing. The first shiver of fear slithered its way from her brain to the base of her spine. She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Guess I must have left it at the club.” Like hell.

  “Follow me,” Mack said. Lara dogged his heels. They entered a bedroom as richly decorated as the rest of the apartment. A king-sized bed dominated the room. A large mirror mounted on the ceiling over the bed caught her eye. Another filled the wall behind the headboard and a third splayed across the wall at the end of the bed. She bit back a smile. This guy didn’t want to miss anything.

  “Where’s my man?” Lara asked in her best bored tone of voice. “I could be making money elsewhere.”

  “He’ll be here. Relax and have a glass of champagne.” Mack popped the cork.

  “No thanks. I’m not thirsty.”

  Mack frowned, his hands tightening on the bottle. “You’ve agreed to this party, S
ummer. I suggest you follow the rules.”

  What was going on? Had he drugged the other women? She didn’t remember reading that in the autopsy report. She pushed her hair away from her face impatiently. “Okay. Just a small glass if it’ll make you happy. If the guy doesn’t arrive in fifteen minutes, I’m out of here.” She’d leave before Hank came bursting in like the Marines on a mission. She sipped a small amount of the bubbly.

  Hank’s plan gave her fifteen more minutes before he arrived and busted whoever was here. At this rate, the plan would fail. A visual scan of the bedroom showed her there was no phone.

  Mack was in the process of turning down the bed covers when Lara began to feel odd. Her arms and legs became so heavy she couldn’t move. Her tongue went numb. True terror filled her mind. Was Mack the one all along? She attempted to rise and crumbled to the floor in a heap, the champagne glass falling onto the thick carpet.

  Mack’s rich chuckle came from her left. “Finally. I thought I’d have to force it down your throat.” He hoisted her into his arms and dumped her on the bed. Helpless, as a rag doll, she suffered in silence while he stripped her, neatly folding each piece of clothing and placing them on a nearby chair. She opened her mouth to speak, or scream, at this point she wasn’t sure which. The drug had paralyzed the muscles in her throat, as well.

  Helpless as a baby, she watched Mack methodically tie each of her limbs with a bright red silk scarf, just like the one that had covered her eyes. Soon she lay spread-eagled on the huge bed. He approached her, trailed his finger down her neck and tweaked a nipple. “Soon you’ll discover nirvana.”

  He then tied a red scarf around her neck and arranged the long ends between her breasts. Like her, the panic welling in her throat had no place to escape. Mack left the room and shut the door quietly behind him. She thought she heard voices. The noise of a clock on the nightstand reminded her of a ticking bomb. Hank should be here any second. She inhaled deeply, willing herself to relax.

  Prickles attacked her limbs and tongue. As quickly as the paralysis had set in, it left her. “Hey,” she hollered as soon as she discovered her voice worked. “Mack? Get your ass in here.”