by KD Robichaux
“How the hell does she know about—”
“We’re about to find out, bro. Stay calm,” he says, and for Seth to be the one telling me to stay calm, I know my growing panic must be showing.
We gallop down the stairs to the floor of Club Alias, cross the dance area, and make it to the hidden door on the other side that leads to our business next door. We flip on the lights once we lock the door behind us and when we reach the front, we unlock the glass one and open it for the woman standing outside.
She comes in, holding the strap of her purse tightly at her shoulder, nervousness permeating the air around her.
“Heather?” Seth clarifies, and she nods as he takes the seat behind the desk and I take up residence at the wall behind him, my arms crossing over my chest as I lean back against it.
He gestures toward the seat in front of the desk, and she sits. “Um, first, before I say anything, I need to know y’all will protect me,” she says low, as if she’s scared someone will hear her talking to us. “Alison isn’t the only one who’s suddenly disappeared. She’s just the only one who had anyone care she was missing.”
As Seth assures her we will assign a security detail with surveillance at her home and in her car, I check my watch to see how much longer Astrid has until she’s supposed to be off. She texted me earlier saying she’d be later tonight because there were several more girls to work on. My brow furrows when I see the symbol at the top of my watch showing that my cell is disconnected. When I pull it out of my pocket, an empty battery emblem flashes across the screen.
“Shit, you got a charger in here?” I interrupt Seth.
“Bro, do you know me at all? Take your pick,” he replies, pulling out a drawer in the desk that has a giant charging station assembled with what looks like thirty different ports. I find one of several iPhone cords and snap it into the bottom of my cell, setting it on the desk before leaning back against the wall once more. I had barely plugged it in at home when Seth texted me to get my ass here.
Heather sets her purse in her lap and clutches it to her front. “Dr. Walker, I… I should’ve come sooner. I know that. But when you work for a man like Randy, who makes it perfectly clear that if you cross him, it’s your life that’s endangered, not your job, then it’s hard to find the courage to ask for help. But… but I really like your girlfriend. She’s so sweet and… so innocent in a way, like that baby sister you want to take care of. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to her.”
I’m instantly on alert. What does this have to do with Astrid? I thought she was just coming to give details about her coworker and didn’t think she’d get much protection from the police.
“How would something happen to Astrid?” I prompt, forcing my voice to stay calm even though the panic is rising inside me to fly out of here like a bat out of hell to go to my woman this very second.
“Um.” She pushes her hair behind her ear. “I… I guess I need to start from the beginning. Well, actually the end… of Alison. She was our makeup artist before Astrid. But A Secret isn’t just a strip club. It’s an auction-based brothel. There are three levels—the dance club, where nothing scandalous goes on. It’s just like a regular nightclub. The strip club, which is exactly what you think. And then the auction room, where after a girl strips, the members can bid on a night with her, and then they go upstairs and… do what they will. Well, sometimes Randy partakes in his own product—the girls I mean. He still pays them and stuff, but like… let’s just say he’s not a gentle lover. Alison also delved into dancing whenever she needed extra cash. She wasn’t a regular, but when someone would take a night off or we needed an extra girl, she didn’t mind getting that bonus.
“Anyway, Randy saw her, which I don’t think he had up until that night, because he doesn’t tend to venture to the dressing room, and he wanted her. She wasn’t on the auction level, just the strip stage, but he had two of his men escort her to a room upstairs. Now, we don’t know for sure if he took her willingly or if he forced her. All we know is an hour later, they carried her lifeless body out the back door—past the dressing room—and it looked like she had something around her neck while the rest of her was naked.” She pauses to take a breath, and with it, Seth opens up an Imperium Security report, typing quickly to get down the details.
Heather continues, “Her best friend, one of our coworkers who was there that night, knew she couldn’t go to the police and tell them she was dead, so she reported her missing, hoping Randy wouldn’t find out and that the police would start digging. Well, they did, and that’s when Randy had Crystal call in as Alison to tell them she was fine. The rest of us protected her bestie so he wouldn’t find out who alerted the police.
“So with no makeup artist, Randy tells all of us that we need to find a new one. And if we find one who will also dance, there will be a referral bonus of ten thousand dollars. So Crystal decided to go through Facebook, checking out local makeup artists, sending messages and feeling them out, and then she came across Astrid’s group. She recognized her from the workout classes she does at the gym. And I think you know what happened after that.”
I fill in so Seth understands. “Crystal approached her before class with a card asking if she was looking for a job. And then Astrid told her she was a makeup artist. She and I both thought that was pretty odd, but it turns out, Crystal already knew she was one before she even spoke to her. I wonder why, though. Why not say something like ‘I follow your makeup videos on Facebook and have a job for you if you’re interested’?”
Heather sits forward. “I don’t know if you know this, but Crystal is a conniving, evil bitch. When she realized who Astrid was from her class, she admitted to us girls who were around her while she was searching Facebook that she had been a super-cunt to her because she wanted a piece of her hot boyfriend. So I guess it would’ve been weird for her to suddenly go from bitchy to ‘OMG I follow you on FB!’ so she played dumb. But not very well, apparently.”
I nod. “This is true.”
“So what happened to bring you here now, Heather?” Seth asks.
“Well, I heard Crystal talking yesterday. She’s going to try to convince Astrid to dance tonight,” she explains. “I tried to tell her it would never happen. The way Astrid talks about you, there’s no way you’d be down for her to strip off her clothes for other men.”
My brow lowers and my nostrils flare. “Most definitely not,” I confirm.
“So Crystal said she’s going to ask her just to work in the dance club—no stripping, just dancing—and hope that gets her the bonus from Randy, because he never specified whether the new girl had to be a stripper or not, just that she had to dance.”
“Randy, the club owner who was the last person seen with the victim, Alison, when she was still alive, and then an hour later, her body was being taken out the back door,” Seth confirms.
“That’s him,” Heather replies.
“Who my sister-in-law now works for,” he adds, and she grimaces.
“She’s your sister? I’m sorry; I didn’t know. Yes. But surely she’ll say no to even that, right? You… you must be loaded, being a doctor and all.” She looks at me. “Even the temptation of a thousand bucks an hour won’t faze her… right?” she prompts hopefully, her eyes worried.
The back of my head hits the wall behind me with a thunk as I close my eyes. “A thousand dollars an hour? Just to dance and not take off her clothes? Jesus fuck, how much money is this club fucking making? And yes, she’d be tempted. She’s got it in her head that she wants to earn her own way through college. She refuses to let me pay,” I admit, and when I open my eyes and look at her, she’s nodding, her face considerate.
“I can see that. She’s got a strong head on her shoulders—at least that’s the vibe I get from her when she’s ordering us girls around and keeping us in line to get through our makeup faster. That woman busts ass and hightails it out of there so she can get home to you. But I can’t say I blame her. I mean�
�� look at you.” She gestures up and down my frame, but her tone and expression aren’t flirtatious. If I weren’t dying inside that the love of my life is in the same building as a suspected murderer right now, then I would ponder on the fact that this stranger would most likely be a really good friend to Astrid under normal circumstances. She’s here risking her own safety to ensure Astrid’s.
“So she’s going to try to convince her to dance, and then what? If she agrees, they’ll put her on the schedule for some time next week?” I ask, already preparing the speech I’m going to give her when she gets home tonight about how I don’t want her returning to work there… ever. Not just to convince her to say no to the dancing, but as the makeup artist either.
She shakes her head. “No, without me there…” She winces. “Crystal will put the pressure on her to start tonight, I’m sure. And even as organized and sassy as your Astrid can be, I think she’d give in with the right amount of peer pressure. I mean, especially since she loves to dance anyway, and if she’s trying to pay for school, a thousand dollars in one hour could be the deciding factor that has her saying yes.”
Just then, my phone vibrates on top of the wooden desk as it comes back to life, and then another series of vibrations echo between my cell and my watch. When I lean forward, I have several texts and missed calls from Astrid.
Astrid: Soooo… question. How would you feel about me dancing (NOT STRIPPING!) for an hour tonight after I’m done with everyone’s makeup? Sort of like a go-go dancer situation in the dance club section of the club.
Astrid: A couple of the girls didn’t show up for work tonight, so they’re wanting me to fill in. Again, NOT TAKING MY CLOTHES OFF.
Astrid: Viking, need you to answer me. I really need to know if you’re not okay with this, because $1000 just to dance for an hour is really freaking hard to pass up.
Astrid: Tried calling and it went straight to voicemail. Are you on a 911 tele-appointment?
Astrid: Well, I think I’m going to do it. Just one hour. Added to the $920 I’m making off the MU jobs, that’s almost 2k in one night!
Astrid: Getting all ready to go dance! I have to leave my phone here in the dressing room, but here’s a pic of my costume so you don’t freak out. See? All covered up and it’s STAYING ON! I love you! See you soon <3
The picture shows her in a form-fitting baby-blue dress with short scrunched up sleeves and a low neckline. Her hair is now down and curly instead of in the bun she had it up in when she left this evening. Her smile is big and bright, and her eyes are a little nervous, but her expression conveys both excitement and determination. She’s so set on her goal, and it’s completely admirable, but fuck my life, I wish she’d just let me take care of her.
“Do you happen to know Randy’s full name?” Seth asks Heather, and she lifts her eyes to the ceiling as she thinks.
“Um… I think that’s actually short for his last name. Let me look at his Facebook really quick to see if it has his full name. I’m not friends with him, but I know some of the girls are, so that’d pull him up as a mutual friend.” She scrolls, and for some reason, I hold my breath. I don’t know why, other than the fact that she’s looking up the name of a most-likely killer who happens to be my woman’s boss. But something is tickling at the back of my mind. “Oh, here it is,” she says, and she slides the phone across the desk to Seth, who types the name into one of his databases.
“Oh, I know him,” he murmurs, leaning closer to the computer monitor and blocking my view.
My stomach drops. “You do? Who is it?”
“Well, I don’t know him, know him. But this dude tried to become a member of Club Alias years ago. You wouldn’t have met him though, because he didn’t pass our first-round inspection. Background check came back with all sorts of red flags, so his application was denied,” Seth tells me, and my skin prickles. I knew it probably wasn’t the most honorable man in the universe running a strip club that looks like A Secret when Astrid first wanted to take the job. But as a fucking mercenary who owns a BDSM club myself, I didn’t think I had much room to judge. Yet this is absolutely different. If he couldn’t even get past the initial application background check, then this guy is bad news, and that’s even before we know for certain he killed Alison. And I have a stinking suspicion he did. Because in order to not even be sent to me for the four therapy sessions, he’d have to have—
“Aggravated assault. Accused of first-degree sexual assault, but got probation. Battery—”
“So the fucker wasn’t lying,” Heather interrupts Seth. When both our eyes meet hers, she explains, “We heard him boasting once that even if he were to fuck any of the girls and didn’t pay them, he wouldn’t be convicted of rape if they tried to accuse him, because he’d been tried before and only got his hand slapped. He said he was untouchable, that we should count ourselves lucky that he’s so generous and willing to pay us instead of just taking it like he’d done before.”
A shiver works up my spine, knowing I’ve heard… and read those words before.
So many of my patients have confided that their attackers said the same thing about not getting into trouble for what they do or did before. But one girl stands out in my mind, and my stomach feels hot as her face fills my mind.
Heather continues, “So we’ve learned just to get it over with when he picks one of us for the night. Especially when the last two or three girls who turned down his offer ended up… well, we thought they just lost their jobs, fired, but after Alison—” She shrugs. “—who knows if that’s what happened, or if they’re out in those woods somewhere? All we know is we want to keep this job. The pay is more than any of us girls could make anywhere else. So we do what he wants and take home the extra cash. All I’m saying is sweet little Astrid doesn’t know any of that shit. If she takes the dancing job and Randy wants her after Crystal tells him about the referral money, then—”
“She took the job.” I cut in, my vision tunneling. “When… when would Crystal tell Randy?” And as I ask the question, I’m praying he isn’t there tonight. Maybe he doesn’t work every night and he won’t be there to see my goddess dancing in the nightclub, looking like a fucking angel in the light-blue dress with her long, flowing blonde hair and silvery makeup. Because I know, I just fucking know, that any man who sees her like that, especially in her element, dancing and allowing the music to take over her perfect body, wouldn’t be able to resist her. There is no way he won’t want her.
“Oh, within the hour she dances, for sure. Crystal will go get him and point her out while Astrid’s in the nightclub doing the job, proof that she won the referral contest. Oh my God, you said she took the job? How—”
“She texted me. When will she start dancing?” I ask, opening the messages back up and sliding the texts to the side to see the time she sent the last one. “She said she was getting ready at 10:45. It’s 11:08 now.”
“She’s probably going to take the 11:30-12:30 hour. The working girls alternate throughout the night. Since we allow female customers into the nightclub section, it’s not like the men are just standing around dancing with each other—I mean, unless they’re gay. Our girls are there to keep the crowd pumped and dance with the men who haven’t paired off with the female customers,” she explains.
“I’ve got to go, Seth. I have to get her out of there,” I tell him, my voice only hinting at the panic I’m feeling in this moment. “A Secret is half an hour away. And she’ll be out there in twenty, and you know the second this motherfucker sees her—”
“Why our Quill girls gotta be so fucking hot?” he gripes, and he must hit the print button on the screen, because the printer comes to life inside the desk. “Printing the background check with his picture so we can spot him when we get there.” And a tiny bit of relief mixes with the swirling emotions inside me that I don’t even have to ask him for his help.
“Y’all are going to need some like… backup or something. There’s no way you’re getting through those doors without a m
embership. Only single females are allowed in without a member’s card,” Heather says, and Seth turns wicked eyes to me.
“Oh, we’ve got backup, sweetie. Don’t you worry about that,” he speaks to her as he winks at me.
I’m sending a text to Brian and Corbin before the sentence is even out of his mouth.
“What about you, Heather? Would you be willing to help us get in another way that won’t require us to go in guns a’blazing?” Seth asks, his mind obviously working faster than mine, because I was just going to crash through the front door with my fucking SUV.
“I…” Her eyes are suddenly anxious. “I um…”
“We will protect you at all times. I’m thinking you walk in just like you would any other night you work, say you were running late for some reason, but now you’re ready to work. I don’t know—anything to get you through to the back. You said there’s a door near the dressing room, right? We’ll meet you back there, and all you gotta do is open it. We’ll take care of the rest,” Seth tells her, and I glance up from my messages with our other guys to see her nod reluctantly.
“I… I can do that.” She takes a deep breath. “I can do that,” she says with more conviction, and she stands.
I slide my cell in my pocket and step around the desk, taking hold of her biceps before she can go anywhere. “You will never know how grateful I am for your courage tonight. After this night is over, I want you to quit that place, and I will personally find you a job either in my office or at Club Alias. We don’t pay nearly the amount A Secret does, but at least you’ll know you’re safe and aren’t working for someone who could turn on you and take your life.”
Her eyes go wide, her chin wobbling for a moment. “Thank you, Dr. Walker.” She blinks back her tears. “Let’s go get your girl,” she murmurs, and Seth closes the cabinet containing the printer, separating the papers and handing me a set.
I flip the page to find his picture…