by Julie Miller
Megan’s sheltered life as the good sister who could do no wrong had kept her from learning that hard truth. Trusting the wrong person had probably gotten Megan into the trouble she was in now.
Although Riley had the promise of Josiah’s phone number in her skirt pocket—and yes, she believed he had good intentions of keeping her safe—she was too smart to have complete reliance on anyone. So she’d best bury this urge to laugh and lust and maybe even care a little inside her emotional lock box, and remember she had a job to do. Megan was counting on her. Josiah and KCPD were counting on her now, too. It was up to her to uncover the secrets behind that door at the top of the stairs.
She glanced up at the catwalk above her and saw the guard pacing back and forth. He or someone else from Russell Security was always there, whether there were customers coming and going or not. She hadn’t even gotten halfway up the stairs the first night she tried to get in. With no excuse beyond exploring the place to give her a reason to go up there, she’d been ordered to return to her post behind the bar.
So, the next night, Riley had invented a plausible reason to make friends with the guards and give herself a little more free rein to get into different areas of the club. That was why she was here now—to solidify her relationship with the guards and maybe sneak her way inside that secret room.
“Hey, Oscar.” She smiled at the dark-haired guard sitting on the stool in front of the elevator and strolled down the hallway toward him. “Can I bring you some coffee again tonight? Or are you in the mood for something cold?”
“How are you tonight, Red?” Offering to bring the guards a drink so they wouldn’t have to leave their post or wait until their break had made her instantly popular with Slade Russell’s private security team. The radio on his hip beeped, and he held up a hand for her to wait while he took the message. Then he clipped the radio to his belt and apologized. “Check with me later, okay? The boss is coming down.”
“Sure.”
Curious to see if she could finally meet the mysterious club owner who might lead her to Megan, Riley stalled a moment by pulling her lipstick and a small mirror from the pocket of her skirt. She pursed her lips, applying the shiny red balm to her mouth, listening to the gears inside the walls while the elevator descended. When the penthouse elevator opened, Oscar pushed aside the gate and Slade Russell and another man—both tall, both dark-haired and handsome, both reeking of wealth and cologne—stepped out together.
Riley capped the lipstick and slid both items into her hip pocket before retreating against the wall to let the small entourage pass. She recognized the black hair and blue eyes from the online articles she’d researched. So this was the man KCPD was investigating. While he was deep in conversation with his guest, Riley stole a moment to study her employer. Slade Russell looked like a man who negotiated million-dollar business deals. The slight guttural accent of his companion indicated that Russell’s business, whether top secret or legit, included an international component. Eastern European if she wasn’t mistaken.
Riley’s breath hitched in her chest. If Megan had fallen prey to the illegal dealings at After Dark, then she might not even be in Kansas City, anymore. How would she ever find her sister if a man like Mr. Accent there was taking Megan to Outer Slombovia or whatever foreign place he was from?
Habit kept her chin in the air and kept the enemy in her sights as they approached.
But instead of walking past, Slade Russell stopped beside her and turned. “You’re the new bartender, hmm?” He pulled one hand from the pocket of his trousers and reached out to shake her hand. “I’m Slade.”
Power. That was the impression Riley got as he clasped her hand in a firm grip and lingered. “I’m Doreen. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
The man with Slade stepped forward and offered her a courtly bow. “Introductions, please.” The glittering dark eyes of the foreign visitor showed a very different sort of interest in her. “I am Andrei Wojtalewicz.”
Definitely Eastern European.
“Doreen.” Riley smiled as he bent over her hand to kiss her knuckles.
Gotcha. Josiah Kemp was the only guy in this place where her male radar was on the fritz. She could read these two men. She had their number and knew how to deal with them. One wanted respect and the other wanted…her.
The knowledge renewed her confidence and had her combing her fingers through her hair for Mr. Wojtalewicz’s benefit, while she kept her gaze at a confident angle for Slade Russell. “When I asked to see the boss Monday night, I thought I was coming to you. I didn’t realize Mr. Calibrisi did the hiring.”
“Rocky showed surprisingly good taste this time.” A woman without her suspicions might find both men utterly charming. But she was more interested in him gesturing toward the side exit and spiral staircase at the end of the hall. “Walk with me a sec.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Russell.”
“Slade, please.” Riley schooled her anticipation at getting the opportunity to spy into the rooms Josiah had asked her to help infiltrate, and fell into step between the two men. “So what brought you to my club?”
“Honestly?” As if she’d share the truth. “The money. I’m putting myself through grad school, so I can work here a few nights to pay my bills, and still have plenty of time to study.”
Slade continued the conversation, expecting her to accompany him up the stairs. “What are you studying?”
“Business. I’m working on my MBA.”
“Very admirable.” Andrei Wojtalewicz dropped behind her as they reached the stairs. “I am a businessman, as well.”
Walking on her toes so her heels wouldn’t slide through the metal grates, Riley started right up the stairs with them. She smiled over her shoulder. “I would have guessed that.” Second step. Third step. She shrugged and gave him her most earnest expression. “I don’t suppose your company would be looking for a sharp, ambitious graduate like me, would it? Where are you located, by the way?”
The boss interrupted before she could get any more information. “I thought you worked for me,” he teased.
“I’m good with bottom lines and drinks.” Step eight. Step nine. “I’d love to own my own place one day. And I think I’m learning from the best here at After Dark.”
Slade paused on the landing above her. He looked down at her, arching a black eyebrow. Too much. Retreat. If she poured on the deference to his authority or success too thickly, he’d begin to doubt her sincerity. So Riley stopped on the second step from the top and turned to face the man who was already eating out of the palm of her hand.
“Come down to the club with me, Mr. Wojtalewicz, and I’ll pour you a drink. Or, I’d be happy to bring it up here. You look like a smooth customer. Prime-label vodka?” She snapped her fingers. “No. Aged cognac.”
Mr. Wojtalewicz nodded, looking very pleased with her assessment of his expensive tastes. “Courvoisier is my favorite. Very perceptive.” He glanced up to the man standing behind her. “Slade, I like this one.”
“Andrei,” Slade urged the other man to join him on the second floor walkway, ending the conversation. “You’ve traveled a long way and we have a deadline on our deal. There’ll be time for drinks later.”
“Of course.” Andrei bowed his head to her again and kissed her hand. “Maybe another time.”
Riley smiled and clung to the railing, but not too closely, giving Andrei Wojtalewicz the opportunity to brush his shoulder against hers as he climbed the stairs onto the landing.
“Doreen.” That was definitely a dismissal in Slade Russell’s tone. “It was good to meet you.”
“Thank you, sir. Same here.” But solidifying a connection with her boss wasn’t nearly as important as watching his hand move to the keypad beside the door. 4… Damn it. She couldn’t make out the other numbers he pressed. But she heard five taps, five numbers being punched in, before she heard the distinctive click of the dead bolt lock releasing.
“Andrei. You have your card?”
&nbs
p; “Of course.”
Card? What card? Was that something important?
Slade nodded and ushered his guest inside. “This way.”
Riley slid her gaze over the landing as the two men entered the room. She got a glimpse of several computers, of all things—a whole row of them on what looked like a conference table surrounded by plush chairs.
But it was one glimpse. One second to take in men’s feet and furniture and electronics and voices on the other side of that door before Andrei Wojtalewicz blocked her view. The door was closing and locking behind them before she could make any sense of what she’d seen.
The uniformed guard moved to the top of the stairs, crossing his arms in front of her before she realized she’d been caught craning her neck to see inside.
Fine. She’d been caught spying. Women were naturally curious, weren’t they? She’d been trying to score points with the boss? Maybe pick up a rich sugar daddy? There were any number of plausible explanations running through that guard’s mind right now.
Riley simply tilted her gaze up to the guard’s blue eyes and smiled, letting him decide what she might be up to. “I’m not allowed to continue that conversation right now, am I?”
“Nope.” He tried to glare, but she saw the quiver of a smile on his lips. This guy was into her. Or maybe he was just bored and lonely maintaining his post up on the catwalk. “You’re the chick who brought me a soda Tuesday night, aren’t you?”
Like shooting fish in a barrel.
Riley’s gaze traveled over the name badge above the Russell Security logo patch. Daniel Mertz didn’t stand a chance.
With her face at the same level as his zipper, she pouted her lips suggestively and gave him an easy flirt. “That’s right. I remember you. I guess I’ll be serving you again tonight. Do you go by Daniel? Dan?”
“You can call me Danny.” The quiver turned into a full-blown smile.
As he took a step down toward her, Riley noted the ring of keys connected to his belt. A simple clip-on, easy to remove. And a plastic key card on a coiled loop hung beside the keys. Was that the card Slade Russell had mentioned? Maybe it was an emergency override for the lock in case one of his guests needed to get in or out quickly. Or was it another layer of secrecy on top of the unlock code Slade Russell had used? Plus, unlike the bouncers down in the club, Danny wore a gun. Just what kind of business meeting required that kind of security? No wonder Josiah hadn’t been able to get inside the secret room yet.
A blunt finger beneath her chin brought her back to the man she had to get through to get a better look into that room. “What’s your name, beautiful?” Danny asked.
“Doreen. You know, I’ve always had a thing for a man in uniform.” She reached up and traced her finger around his belt buckle. His smile widened, but his greedy eyes were amusing themselves by sizing up her curves. Yep. If she got close enough, she’d only need a little diversion and those keys—
“New Girl!”
Riley snatched her hand back at Opal Cunningham’s sharp call from the foot of the stairs. She slowly turned to look down over the jut of her shoulder at the platinum blonde.
A glare from Opal sent Danny back to his post. And then those condescending blue eyes were focused squarely on Riley again. “We’re shorthanded tonight. One of the waitresses didn’t show up. We need you out on the floor.”
“I’m a bartender, not a…” Wait a minute. Another girl was missing? Riley hurried down the circle of stairs, her mission temporarily forgotten. “Who didn’t show up?”
“Mary Sue English.”
Riley steeled her neck to combat the urge to spin around and look up at the door she’d left behind. First Megan had gone missing. Then the mysterious Janis. And now Mary Sue? “Did you call her? Is she all right?”
Silently cursing the fact that she hadn’t thought to get Mary Sue’s phone number, Riley made a mental note to ask Josiah or one of the other girls if they knew how to contact the absent waitress. She supposed there was an outside chance that Mary Sue had caught a cold, or she was just tired of Rocky harassing her. But with her friend Janis already missing, there were too many strange things going on behind the scenes at After Dark for Riley to believe the young woman wasn’t really in trouble.
Opal’s cold superiority wasn’t reassuring, either. She thrust a black apron at Riley. “You might start worrying about your own job here, rather than hers.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And stay away from Mr. Russell. Especially when he’s entertaining guests.”
Riley thumbed over her shoulder at the stairs. “But he invited me—”
“Stay away from Mr. Russell. You serve drinks. Period.”
Riley simply nodded as the older woman stepped aside and waited for Riley to move.
Maybe the harsh warning was Opal’s way of protecting the women who worked downstairs. With two employees already unaccounted for, she might even be worried that her or Rocky’s job could be in jeopardy. But the blue eyes fixed on her were full of accusation, not compassion. More likely Opal Cunningham was just a bitch who didn’t like the idea that the new hire had already gotten up the stairs with the boss, so to speak.
Riley knew that she already had some useful information, and was eager to report to Josiah. Tying the apron around her waist, she hurried down the hallway to the club, resigning herself to the new job assignment so she wouldn’t draw any more of Opal’s attention. Or wrath.
Chapter Six
“The guy over at table twelve asked for you.” A blonde waitress named Tammy set her tray down on the drink station beside Riley. “As far as I’m concerned, you can have him. He’s nothing but hands.”
“Who isn’t tonight? When I was behind the bar last night, I thought the pickup lines were bad enough. But it’s a jungle out there on the floor.”
“Makes you feel like prey, doesn’t it?”
Riley laughed, feeling the other woman’s pain. The tips had to be as good as they were for any sane female to put up with the noisy music, aching feet and groping customers. Riley glanced toward the far side of the stage, looking for her new table. But the gyrating dancer and trio of men waiting to stuff money into her garter blocked her view. “What’s he drinking?”
“Sidecar.”
Riley slid the tray of beers she’d ordered in front of Tammy. “All right. I’ll trade you. These go to the bachelor party at table seven.”
With a hearty thanks, Tammy picked up the heavy tray and headed over to the big table by the front door. Her gaze moved on past the blonde to connect with the broad chest and crossed arms of Josiah Kemp standing at the club’s front door, watching her.
Her heart did another one of those silly flip-flops. She’d already given him a brief accounting of what she’d seen upstairs, and had described the lock with the five-digit code. They’d only had a few moments to discuss the next step of strategy before Rocky had come out to open up the club, and Opal had been at his side to reinforce her authority to reassign Riley to floor duty.
But Riley wasn’t thinking of the dangers she faced, working undercover with Josiah. She wasn’t thinking of the ticking clock, and how any answers that they might uncover tonight or tomorrow might come too late to stop whatever mysterious event Slade Russell was organizing for this weekend. For a moment, she wasn’t even thinking of her sister.
There were only whiskey brown eyes, meeting her gaze.
The dancer on stage wore platform heels and a sheer bra trimmed with lace. The other waitresses were trading quips and flirting with their customers. After Dark was putting on quite a show for any sex-starved male. And every last man in the room, except for the gay bartender she’d made friends with, was eating it up.
Aside from Josiah.
He was easily the biggest man in the room. The only one not smiling or laughing or chatting up a waitress.
And his eyes were focused squarely on her.
As if there were no other women in the club. As if there was nothing else sexy enou
gh or intriguing enough here to interest him. Prey, indeed. Not such a bad thing. If this place was a jungle, Josiah was the big, predatory cat at the top of the food chain. And she was the only thing he was hungry for.
No touch. No words. Just that intense focus across the room for her alone. Riley felt an answering gush of heat deep inside that tightened her nipples and dampened her panties.
Was she remembering that kiss out in the alley? The rough touches that were pure desire? Was she anticipating the next time the two of them could be alone together?
Had any man ever made her want like this? Made her want, period?
Heady stuff. Ill-timed and confusing as hell for a woman used to controlling every encounter, but she still allowed herself a brief moment to relish Josiah’s attention, and ponder these unfamiliar longings inside her.
“Sidecar up,” the bartender announced, setting the salt-rimmed drink on her tray.
“Thanks.” With her toes feeling a little less pinched, and her smile feeling a little more genuine, Riley tore her gaze from Josiah’s. Back to work. Back to manipulating her way inside After Dark’s inner circle. Back to her search for Megan. Riley picked up her tray to run the gauntlet through the maze of tables and chairs leading her to table twelve.
The dancer ended her performance at the edge of the stage and her three fans applauded, tossed her a few more bills and took their seats.
Oh, crap. Riley nearly tripped in her spiky boots as she got a look at the customer waiting for her there. Dark hair with a distinguished shot of silver at each temple. A tailored suit and tie that always seemed to be wrinkled. And that used-car salesman smile which was supposed to charm her. Lawrence Houser.
Running into a former client in this neighborhood was inevitable, she supposed. But some blasts from the past a woman didn’t need.