StriporTreat

by Jana Mercy

* * * * *

  “Why are you really doing this?” Sophia asked when she and Nate once again stood in the small costume room. Alone this time.

  He held up a pirate’s costume. “What do you think?”

  “That you’re avoiding my question.” She shook her head. “There’s already a pirate on stage tonight. And he looks enough like Johnny Depp to make you appear like a big phony. Pick something else.”

  “Now you tell me.” He put the costume back on the rack and flipped through the others. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”

  “This is ridiculous. I’ll be fine.” Somehow.

  He shot her a curious look. “Since when did you become so argumentative?”

  “Since I got away from Atlanta and have been really happy for the first time I can remember.”

  Nate stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and regret. “I never realized you were unhappy, Sophia.” He held up a police officer uniform for her inspection.

  “Already one of those too.” She gave him the thumbs down. “Until a few weeks before I left, neither did I.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have discussed this, worked out a way for you to be happy.” He returned the costume to the rack.

  “That’s just it, Nate. We can’t make each other happy. I didn’t realize why I wasn’t satisfied. Not until I stepped away from my life.” She shrugged. “Besides you wouldn’t have been able to get beyond what you expected of me. Not while we were in Atlanta. My mother wouldn’t have let you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I deal with business sharks on a daily basis. Your mother doesn’t intimidate me.” A grin played on his lips when he added, “Much.”

  She laughed. The costume he held up caught her gaze. “What’s that one?”

  Nate glanced down at what he held. “Looks like a pair of grubby jeans.”

  “And a flannel shirt?”

  “Yep.”

  “What else? There’s a garbage bag attached. What’s in there?”

  Nate untied the bag and burst into laughter when he looked inside. “Apparently, this is a plumber’s getup.”

  “A plumber?”

  He nodded, pulling a pristine plunger from the bag and twirling it around baton-style.

  “Oh.” Barely containing her laughter, she clapped her hands together. “It’s perfect. Nathaniel Fleming, III dressed as a plumber, doing a striptease and plunging the business world into areas never before seen on Wall Street.”

  * * * * *

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  Genevieve reached for the shrilling cordless phone on the table next to her bed. Everyone insisting upon her staying in bed was ridiculous. Even if she had a stroke, she wasn’t an invalid. The only reason a woman should stay in bed all day long involved a man keeping her busy there.

  “Hello,” she muttered into the phone.

  “I heard you were out of the joint.”

  “Ken? Is that you?”

  “Did you really think I was gonna fade into the background when that snooty-nosed witch fired me?”

  No, she’d known he wouldn’t. Snakes didn’t just disappear into the woodwork. They hid until they could strike you where it hurt. “We need to talk about this,” she began.

  “Talk? What’s to talk about?”

  “There has to be something we can work out.” She had to pacify him. At least for the time being. What would Sophia think if Ken told her the truth?

  “The witch replaced me for Strip or Treat. That’s my show.” His words slurred as if he’d been drinking. Heavily. Ken was always a pain when drunk. For that matter, the man was a pain when he was as sober as sunrise. As he really was a star stripper, she kept hoping that someday he’d straighten up but she’d come to think that would never happen.

  “Yes,” Genevieve agreed, trying not to rile him further. “In the past, it always has been.” Could she reason with him? Or could an egomaniac like Ken be reasonable when drunk? Highly unlikely as he was rarely reasonable while sober. “Can’t you let it go for this year? I’m sure Gray will move on and I’ll re-slot you as lead stripper.”

  Of course, the police would nab him for assaulting Sophia and then the dog doo would really hit the fans because Ken would squeal everything he knew in a heartbeat.

  “The hell you say. You must think I have something to lose. Since I’ve lost my job at the club, well, no matter. Just wanted you to be forewarned, I’m gonna make her pay for what she’s done. She should have minded her own business. Too bad you’ll pay the price too. Heh?”

  The phone line went dead.

  Genevieve stared at the phone. Dread filled her. Dear Lord. Sophia.

  It was time to come clean and face the mistakes of her past.

  She pressed the off button, then automatically dialed Elvis’ number.

  “Get over here. Now.”

  “I just got home. What’s going on, teddy bear? You walking down Lonely Street?”

  “Ken.”

  “I’ll be there faster than if my feet were on fire and my butt was a-catchin’.”

  For once Elvis’ unique charm failed to ease the ache in her old woman’s heart.

  If Ken told Sophia what he knew, she might return to Atlanta and cut all ties. Genevieve wasn’t sure she could bear losing her twice.

  * * * * *

  “Your hunch about the club was right on the money. We busted one of Hooper’s junkies this morning and, like the scumbag he is, he’s cut a deal by spilling everything. Tonight’s definitely the night.”

  Gray nodded at the man in his mid-forties sitting behind an imposing desk. “Any leads on the club’s employees?”

  God, he hoped Sophia’s aunt wasn’t as guilty as logic said she had to be. Even more so he hoped his faith in Sophia proved to be well founded.

  “Nothing definite.” Lawrence took a sip of his coffee. “One thing that’s turned up, interestingly enough, the club’s owner legally changed her name thirty years ago.”

  “What?”

  “Seems Genevieve Walker was born as Ginny Johnson.”

  “Johnson? But what about Sophia? I thought Sophia’s father and Madame G were brother and sister.”

  “Here. Read for yourself.” Lawrence handed a folder to Gray.

  “Whoa.”

  “Yep. These rich people think theirs don’t stink and they can get away with just about anything. It all comes out in the wash.”

  Ring. Ring. Ring. Still in shock at what he read, Gray’s gaze dropped to his cell phone.

  Lawrence nodded. “Take it. Unlikely anyone will know you’re sitting inside TBI headquarters.”

  That wasn’t why he’d hesitated. More like he didn’t want to risk Sophia, who was the person most likely to be calling him, saying anything incriminating while the head of TBI listened in from across his desk. Not that she would anyway. She refused to tell him whatever it was she knew. Which indicated guilt all in itself.

  Having little choice but to take the call, Gray flipped open his phone. “Hello.”

  “Gray? Genevieve Walker. Listen up.” The older woman’s speech slurred as she rushed on. “I’m worried about Sophia. She’s in danger.”

  Fear tightened Gray’s chest. “What’s happened?” he asked, ignoring Lawrence’s curious expression. “Is she okay?”

  “For now but you may have to earn your keep as her bodyguard tonight. Ken called and threatened her.”

  “Threatened her?” He’d break the man’s neck if he so much as touched Sophia. And not because Madame G hired him to protect her. “Why the hell is Ken calling Sophia?”

  And why hadn’t Sophia called to tell him about the threat? She told her aunt but not him. What did that imply? Lack of trust? Guilt?

  “No, not her. Me. He called me.”

  “And threatened Sophia?”

  “Yes. He—” Madame G’s voice faded and he could tell she was rethinking what she’d been going to say. “Well, just you be on the lookout. Watch her closely, because I’m worried about my gir
l. Keep that bastard away from her.”

  So close and then she’d stopped herself. But that confirmed his suspicions. Madame G was guilty. And Sophia was in this up to her pretty little neck.

  Gray snapped his phone closed.

  “What was that all about?”

  “The former lead stripper, Ken Barnes, threatened the niece.” Could Lawrence read through the impersonal tone? Hell, he never questioned his abilities as an agent until this case.

  “You think he’s involved with Hooper?”

  “I’m sure he’s involved. Any ideas on which one of Hooper’s hackies is supposed to pull down the deal at the club tonight?”

  “That’s your department, Erickson. About time you get your act together and wrap up this case and figure out just who Hooper’s inside partner is.” Lawrence shot Gray a wry look. “And I ain’t talking about wrapping up your bed sheets.”

  “What’s Joey said?”

  “That you’re screwing a suspect.”

  “Sophia’s not a suspect.” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Everyone was a suspect. It was the first rule of being an agent.

  Lawrence’s eyebrow rose. “Everyone is a suspect.”

  Joey needed to learn when to keep her big mouth shut. And so did he. “If Sophia’s involved I’ll take her down with the rest.”

  “But you don’t think she is?”

  “No. You know as well as I do that Sophia only came onto the scene after Madame G’s stroke.”

  “But if she’s taken over the woman’s crooked business, she’s as guilty as if she was involved all along.”

  “You know how I feel about druggies,” Gray reminded. “And the reasons I feel that way. If Sophia’s taken over running more than her aunt’s club, I’ll haul her in along with the other scumbags.”

  “One other thing you should know.” Lawrence straightened the papers on his desk. “Your girlfriend is an IRS criminal investigator.”

  “So?” He kept his face unreadable. He knew Sophia worked for the IRS. That was nothing new.

  “So, it would seem her ex hired a private investigator to check into some discrepancies in the club’s books.”

  “And?” Why did he get a very bad feeling about this?

  “Books that are kept by James Hooper.”

  “Shit.”

  “There’s more.”

  Gray waited.

  “She hasn’t launched an inquiry. Some would see that as suspicious. How could someone as trained as she is not spot what’s going on at that club?”

  Gray thought fast and for the first time ever lied to his director. “I asked Sophia not to launch an investigation. Bringing the IRS into this and all the extra scrutiny involved would jeopardize the case.”

  Lawrence’s mouth twisted. “She knows about the case?”

  “No, as far as I know, she doesn’t suspect a thing,” Gray assured. “I merely asked her to hold off and let me do some checking into things before she contacted her people.”

  “And she agreed to let a bartender check into things when her career and reputation were on the line?”

  Damn. Lawrence had a point.

  “You might say I persuaded her to my way of thinking.”

  “Joey thought you were getting too involved with this chick to see clearly.”

  “Sexually involved. Nothing more. Joey knows I use women to get inside information during a case. That’s nothing new. Sophia is smack-dab in the middle of all this. Why wouldn’t I bed her?”

  Lawrence nodded. “Just so long as you’re sure about your reasons.”

  “Positive,” he lied. “If not for Sophia holding off because I asked her to, the IRS would be tearing Heavenly Hunks’ books apart and months of our work would have gone down the drain because we both know Hooper’s operation would have moved elsewhere at the first hint of trouble.”

  “Regardless, the niece may be involved. Don’t let your guard down. Not even when your pants are.” Lawrence chuckled. “From the sound of things, you’re already keeping a close vigilance.” Lawrence glanced at a folder on his desk, one with a snapshot of Sophia clipped inside. “The things you do for your job, heh?”

  “Yeah, doing a chick like Sophia is a real hardship.” The words stuck in his throat like the guilty scum he was. Yet, it never bothered him in the past to use whatever means necessary to solve a case. He was the good guy, using all his resources to nab the bad guys.

  So why did it feel so wrong to imply he was using Sophia?

  He was using her, wasn’t he?

  Besides, he really didn’t have a choice but to imply he was using her. Not if he wanted to protect her from a jail sentence. Because he agreed with Lawrence. No way did Sophia not know what was going on at the club.

  So why hadn’t she filed an official investigation?

  And why the hell hadn’t she trusted him enough to tell him what she uncovered?

  * * * * *

  A part of Gray cringed at searching Sophia’s things yet again. Another reminded him he had a job to do and he needed clues to close this case. Still, the moment he’d heard Elvis and Todd, another Heavenly Hunks employee, assisting Madame G downstairs, he’d snuck across the hallway.

  So far he managed to uncover a half-read copy of Norah Roberts’ latest on the nightstand, packets of strawberry Pop Rocks candy stashed everywhere and an empty women’s lingerie bag.

  Damn but he loved what she wore last night.

  At any moment she could come back upstairs from the club. What excuse would he give for being inside the apartment? A sexual one, no doubt.

  The only thing left was her purse.

  His gaze fell on the large black bag. What secrets of the sisterhood did she hide in that monstrosity? And why did the thought of going through her purse bother him more than rifling through her underwear?

  Taking a deep breath he unzipped the bag and peeked inside as if expecting something evil to leap out at him any moment. Probably some type of feminine hygiene product that would rob him of his masculinity for all time.

  Quickly he dumped the contents of the purse onto the dresser. Lipstick, compact, wallet, various ink pens, more packets of Pop Rocks, hand lotion, small yellow steno pad—steno pad. He picked up the notebook and flipped through the pages. Notes on Heavenly Hunks’ books.

  Holy shit. From her notes and meticulous figuring, someone was embezzling from the company.

  In the margin she’d doodled “drugs”, “money laundering”, “fraud”, “extortion” and “tax evasion”.

  Lawrence was right. Sophia knew what was going on at the club and hadn’t breathed a word.

  Not feeling one bit guilty he took his cell phone and snapped photos of Sophia’s notes.

  Finally a breakthrough.

  When he sent the pictures to the agency, he replaced her belongings into the purse and arranged things so she should never know.

  He glanced at his watch.

  Lawrence would be at the office still.

  He punched the secure number into his phone and paced across the room.

  “Lawrence,” the director answered.

  “Gray here. This is much bigger than what we thought. Check out the photos I just sent over.”

  Keyboard clicking filled the silence. “Nice work.”

  “Actually, this is Sophia’s work.”

  “Sophia’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “So she’s been investigating the club all along despite you asking her to hold up?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “See what else she knows. If you find out anything, send me a text message. I’ll be in the field tonight with the others. I’m going with the agents to Hooper’s.”

  “I’ll see what I can uncover from Sophia. If she knows anything, I’ll let you know.”

  * * * * *

  Sophia froze in Aunt Genevieve’s living room. Moments after entering the apartment she realized Gray spoke to someone in her aunt’s bedroom. Apparently he was on the phone.
Talking about her.

  To whom? And why?

  “I’ll get the books.”

  The books? The account books? Who was he talking to?

  “Yes. Later.”

  Sophia turned back toward the apartment door, realizing too late Gray would catch her leaving.

  “Sophia?”

  Busted.

  “It’s you.” She turned, pasted a cheery smile on her face. “When I realized someone was in the apartment, I thought it might be Ken. I was going downstairs to call the police.”

  Gray’s eyes narrowed. “No need. It’s just me.”

  Reminding herself not to let on that she heard anything, she walked over to him and placed her arms around his neck. “I didn’t know you were back,” she said. Where had he gone?

  “I haven’t been back long. Anything interesting happen this afternoon?”

  “Just spent the afternoon with Nate,” she admitted.

  “And?”

  “And nothing. He won’t change his mind about doing the amateur strip off.”

  “Men do have a way of taking off their clothes around you.”

  She smiled, tamping down her unease regarding the overheard phone conversation. Who had he been talking to? Not James Hooper or he’d know she no longer had the account books. “The only man I want taking off his clothes is you. In private.”

  Something harsh in his gaze pinned her. He stared for long moments before kissing her. Not a sweet or reverent kiss like the ones this morning. Not a kiss meant to seduce, more like a kiss meant to punish.

  But for what? For spending the afternoon with Nate? Or for some other imagined transgression? Perhaps for discovering the mysteries locked inside those account books.

  “Tell me about your job, Sophia.”

  That one hit her from left field. But maybe it shouldn’t have. Not if he really did know something about the books.

  “My job?” She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Yeah.” His gaze bore into her. “Your Atlanta job.”

  He already knew the answer to this so what could telling him the truth hurt? “I work for the IRS.”

  “What is it that you do, exactly?”

  Her heart squeezed tightly and she eyed the clenched expression on his face. “I investigate claims that may be fraudulent.”

  “So you’re pretty good with numbers and at spotting when things don’t add up?” He could only be going in one direction with this. A direction that led to his guilt. She’d been right not to tell him everything.