“No. I’m not,” he argued. When he realized what he was doing, he felt even more foolish.
“Just go and get it over with it.” He climbed out of the car. As he walked to the door, he continued his inner pep talk, assuring himself that a dancer like Autumn Breeze was surely used to having regular admirers. He imagined that the dancers depended on regulars for their livelihood.
“Welcome to the Stallion Gentlemen’s Club. Have a good time,” the doorman said.
“Thanks.”
However, the moment Kadir walked through the door, his confidence and pep evaporated. The place was packed. It was the weekend, he reminded himself. Of course, there would be more patrons. While he searched for a table or spot at one of the bars, Kadir’s regret crept around his head, but he stayed because the desire to see the sexy Autumn Breeze again was stronger.
“What can I get you?” a bartender asked once Kadir had settled into a stool.
“I’ll, uh, have just a ginger ale.”
“Come again?” the man shouted, cupping his ear toward Kadir.
“A ginger ale,” Kadir shouted above the music.
The bartender shrugged. “All right. That’s what I thought you said. One ginger ale coming up!”
Kadir glanced around. The women on the stages displayed amazing acrobatics and impressive dance moves in the low lighting. But none of them interested Kadir.
“Ooh. Hey!” A bubbly half-dressed woman beamed a smile at him. “You’re back! You must’ve had a really good time last night if you’re back for more.”
Kadir smiled, but had no idea who the woman was.
“I’m Cashmere, by the way.” Her gaze drank him in, making it clear who was the predator and who was the prey. “Can I interest you in a private dance?” She stepped forward and pressed her overflowing breasts against his arm.
“One ginger ale.” The bartender set his drink down in front of him. “You want to open a tab?”
“Uh, no. How much?”
“Eight-fifty.”
“For a ginger ale?”
The bartender cocked his head. “Buddy, people don’t come to a strip club expecting grocery-store prices. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Annoyed, Kadir dug through his pocket for the money. Money he shouldn’t be spending in a joint like this so close to rent being due. He slapped down a twenty and then returned his attention to Cashmere. “Is Autumn Breeze working tonight?”
Cashmere’s sunny smile dimmed, but she answered in the same bubbly voice. “Sorry, lover boy, but she’s not.”
“Oh.” His mood dipped.
Cashmere’s smile widened. “I’m not even sure that she’s coming back. I heard she got a new job working for an escort service.”
“Escort?”
Cashmere beamed. “Yeah. I guess dancing wasn’t nearly as exciting as making money on her back.”
“Cashmere!” the bartender barked, clearly eavesdropping.
“What?” she asked innocently. “We’re just talking.”
Kadir plastered on a neutral expression, but inside, his heart sank. Turning from Cashmere, he nursed his ginger ale.
Picking up the hint, she realized that she’d said too much and lost a potential customer. “Your loss,” Cashmere said and walked away.
Kadir remained at the bar to finish his expensive soda, after which he left his change on the bar and headed out, vowing never think of Autumn Breeze again.
A half an hour later, he arrived at Ghost’s underground bunker. “Tell me more of what you know about T4S.”
Ghost’s thick lips spread into a big smile. “I thought that you would never ask.”
26
Abrianna was a nervous wreck, and the Bentley would be there at any moment. She longed for a quick bump of coke to get her through the evening, but with eagle-eye Shawn around to help her get ready, she didn’t dare risk hitting her stash.
“There, girl. You are officially fierce!” Shawn set down her flat iron and stood back and admired his work. “You wanted bone-straight, you got it, baby.” He snapped his fingers.
“Thanks,” Abrianna said, popping up from the chair to swing her long mane. “You are a life saver.” She pecked him on the cheek and then raced to the bedroom to get dressed.
Shawn followed. “You know, I really want to wish you luck tonight like a good best friend should, but . . .”
“Yeah. I know. I get it.” Abrianna said. “But I really appreciate you helping me. I know you got your own show tonight at the Bachelor Mill.”
“Yes, honey. I’m Queen Madge tonight. So you know I’m going to work the hell out of my old ‘Vogue’ moves.”
“Well, all right, Madonna.” They high-fived.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Abrianna gasped. “Shit.”
“I’ll get it,” Shawn said.
“Thanks. I better go get in this dress,” she said, racing to the bedroom.
Seconds later, Shawn entered the room. “Jeeves said that he’ll wait for you in the car. Probably doesn’t want anything to happen to that pretty little Bentley.”
“Okay. Can you help me?” Abrianna asked, presenting her back to him.
Shawn zipped her in, and they turned to face her bedroom mirror. “Wow,” they said at the same time.
“You look gorgeous,” Shawn added.
For the first time, Abrianna felt pretty. “Thanks.”
Staring into the mirror, their silence grew awkward. “All right, girl. I’m out. I can’t be late tonight.”
“Break a leg.”
“I will. And you . . . is there a saying for wishing someone luck in your new profession?”
“I can only imagine.”
They laughed as Shawn let himself out.
The moment the door closed, Abrianna raced for her stash of coke only to find it gone.
“Damn it, Shawn!” How in the hell was she going to get through this night now?
“You look lovely this evening, Ms. Parker,” George greeted her, opening the door to the Bentley.
“Thank you, George.” Abrianna smiled and carefully climbed into the backseat.
George slammed the door shut. The drive back out to Madam Nevaeh’s estate was long. The whole time, Abrianna kept telling herself that it wasn’t too late to back out. As far as the money, she could pack up it up, catch a flight to Anywhere, USA, and start her life all over again. Provided that Zeke didn’t track her down and kill her. There was a high probability he might have better luck than her parents.
“Is everything all right, Ms. Parker?”
Abrianna looked up to catch George’s gaze through the rearview mirror. “Yes. Everything is just . . . fine.”
His gaze lingered a few more seconds before returning to the road.
When they reached Madam Nevaeh’s estate, they had to wait in a small line of cars dropping off other guests. Abrianna grabbed her red and black masquerade mask and slipped it on. Though it fit snugly around her face, it provided a sense of safety that she could hide her true self.
“You have your bracelet, ma’am?”
“Huh? Oh.” Abrianna opened her clutch and removed a gold bracelet loaded with charms of angels, harps, and wings. The trinket, as Angel had explained, was how the gentlemen of the evening would be able to identify Madam Nevaeh’s high-priced girls. “Do you mind helping me with this?”
“Not at all, ma’am.” George turned in his seat while she brought her arm forward. He snapped the bracelet in place and then handed her a card. “Remember to text seven-seven-seven to the number on my card,” he said, handing it to her, “when you’re ready to leave—that is, unless you, um . . .”
“Secure a date?”
George flushed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Gotcha.”
“Here we are.” George pulled up to the door. A valet opened her door and offered assistance.
Abrianna chiseled on a smile and climbed out. The moment she stood, the buzzing started and her stomach looped in knots. Here I go.
Bravely, Abrianna placed one foot in front of the other, sealing her fate.
27
Forty-eight hours into her investigation, private investigator Gizella Castillo found her target to be an incredibly boring man. So far, the case was straightforward. Nothing so far contradicted the bio on the Seventh District of Virginia’s cookie-cutter political home page. But she, like Tomi, had a bad vibe from the man. Then again, she got that same vibe from every politician she had ever laid eyes on.
After the night had fallen, Castillo had tailed Speaker Reynolds to an affluent neighborhood across the border in McLean, Virginia. While his car had to wait in a long line for drop-off at the home, Castillo circled around and parked in the drive of a vacant estate a little way from the party house and cut the lights.
She watched as Reynolds climbed out of his chauffeured black Mercedes. Smiling broadly behind a black-and-purple mask, he walked, envelope in hand, toward a genial doorman. He was hard to miss with his broad-shouldered physique and distinctive swagger when he walked.
“So where is Mrs. Reynolds?” she wondered.
Turned out he wasn’t the only politician she recognized from the Hill. The masquerade party seemed to be a who’s who of the establishment elite, mixed in with a few athletes from the Washington Nationals baseball team and even a couple of Hollywood actors. Castillo felt as if she were staking out a red-carpet event.
“Great party,” she whispered bitterly. “So this is how the other half lives?”
Absently, Castillo wondered what everyone would think if she crashed the event in her denim jeans and white T-shirt ensemble, which currently had a few Doritos stains at the hem. The thought gave her a wry chuckle. This was definitely not the ordinary political hobnob, and clearly it wasn’t something that she could crash.
Reaching over into the passenger seat, she grabbed a steno pad and her night-vision binoculars, which, so far, had proved to be the best investment in her new line of work. The built-in illuminator and camera made sure that she didn’t miss a thing.
By the looks of it, this stakeout could last all night. It was a good thing she’d come well-prepared with snacks and the like. Lowering her binoculars, she grabbed her laptop from the passenger seat and searched for the property deed through public records online—only to come up with zilch.
“Well, who in the hell owns this place?”
The moment Abrianna stepped into Madam Nevaeh’s estate, she was surrounded by gorgeous people in expensive gowns and smart tuxedos. Twinkling golden lights and large white silk panels high above the merry crowd blocked out the numerous windows from peeping Toms. No one had to tell Abrianna that she was moving through some real movers and shakers in D.C. The power the people surrounding her wielded was palpable. A kernel of doubt that she’d stuffed down in her gut sprouted roots among the butterflies that fluttered like mad. What am I doing here?
“Your coat, ma’am.”
“Uh, what?” Abrianna jerked out of her reverie to look at a masked man on the other side of the door. It was Henry. His face was still blank and hard as a slate of marble.
“Would you like me to take your coat?” Henry asked.
Her hand flew to Madam Nevaeh’s beautiful white chinchilla. “Sure.” However, when she took off the coat, she felt as if she’d removed a layer of protection.
Abrianna grew aware that a line was clogging up behind her. “Thank you,” she told Henry and moved as quickly as she could away from the door. Not knowing what to do next, she wandered into the thickening crowd in one of the salons in search of a familiar face. Instead, she luckily drifted in the direction of a server carrying a tray of champagne flutes. Despite the need for at least two glasses, she grabbed just one.
Now what? Abrianna scanned the perimeter and sipped champagne. The chatter and laughter were slightly louder than the man tickling the ivories on a beautiful black grand piano in the next room. The atmosphere was gay so she worked hard to plaster on a smile.
After ten minutes, her awkwardness and insecurities grew tenfold. She wasn’t sure what the hell she was supposed to do next. The rules Angel had gone over earlier flew right out of her head. Angel had made it seem like everything would be a cinch, but she had the feeling that the night was going to be anything but easy. But surely she couldn’t make her money holding up the wall. It’s not too late to turn around and go back home.
Zeke flashed in her head, and she knew that wasn’t true. Even if by some miracle he didn’t kill her, he had enough power to make her life a living hell.
“Well, aren’t you a vision in red?”
As if merely thinking about his evil ass had conjured him out of the pits of hell, Abrianna turned to find a grinning Zeke. Hooked onto his powerful right arm was a smiling Madam Nevaeh. They had both donned sparkling white. For the first time, Abrianna wondered if the two were an item.
“Abrianna, you look absolutely stunning! The women are already buzzing about you,” she bragged.
Were they? She scanned the crowd again. This time, she noted a number of women tossing curious gazes her way, calculating. Instantly, Abrianna squared her shoulders in a defensive stance.
“Oh. Relax.” Nevaeh laughed as she abandoned Zeke’s side to take a spot next to Abrianna. “The women here are not the ones you’ve come to impress.” She took Abrianna’s right hand and lifted it. “Good. You remembered to wear your bracelet.”
Repelled by her cold hands, Abrianna pulled her hand free of the woman’s touch. “Okay. I’m here. Now what?” She’d meant to rein in her attitude, but failed.
Madam Nevaeh ignored it and kept her smile level. “Now, my darling, we mingle!” She removed Abrianna’s empty flute from her hands, set it on another passing waiter’s tray, and proceeded to escort Abrianna deeper into the milling crowd.
Abrianna took a brief look back. Zeke had disappeared into thin air.
For the next hour, Abrianna was introduced to too many oil and gas businessmen to keep count. Then there were a number of lobbyists, who appeared shiftier than the oilmen. But hands down the worst were the wall-to-wall politicians. In fact, the later it got, the more alcohol they poured down their throats and the slimier they became. None of them gave their real names. Most were either movie or comic-book characters or just made-up names. It didn’t matter if some were standing in front of their wives or girlfriends; when they noticed Abrianna’s gold bracelet, they openly flirted and checked her. It didn’t take long for her to feel as if she were on an auctioning block.
Eventually, Abrianna hid out in one of the many bathrooms in the house. However, she was clueless about the angry pack of women who’d come in behind her.
“I swear Madam Nevaeh is scraping the bottom of the barrel with the latest crop of girls,” one girl complained.
“Uh-huh. You can say that again,” her companion chimed in.
Abrianna rolled her eyes but refused to turn and confront them. I don’t give a shit about these bitches. She took a few deep breaths, mumbled a couple of “namastes” to herself, and kept pushing.
“Oh. Give it a fucking rest,” snapped Angel, who had magically appeared. “Don’t you girls have something else to do? Neither one of you are pulling in the money you used to make. If anything, Madam needs to retire you old bitches walking around her, looking like Skeletor with those bad face-lifts. Who is your doctor? Stevie Wonder?”
The women literally clutched their pearls and gawked at Angel.
“You got something to say?” she asked.
The women lifted their chins and stalked off in an angry huff.
Abrianna smiled at Angel. “Thanks, girl.”
“Oh. They are harmless,” she said, waving off Abrianna’s gratitude. “They’re just scared of the young.” Angel looked Abrianna over. “It doesn’t help that you’re the knockout in the room. I think there’s a little bidding war going on over you with Madam Nevaeh.”
“You’re kidding?” Abrianna said, stunned. “Between who?”
“A couple of lobbyists
and a senator, I think. You’ll find out the winner soon enough.”
Abrianna’s heart sank. This still felt like a slave auction.
“So how are you liking it so far?” Angel asked.
“I guess it’s okay. Since I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You smile and look pretty.” Angel smirked, snapping her compact closed.
A woman to her right snuck a sideways look in their direction before mumbling, “Whores,” under her breath and waltzing away.
Angel placed a hand on Abrianna’s arm to stop her from snapping back at the woman. “Let it go. Clearly, she’s someone’s clueless wife.”
“Why would someone bring his wife here?”
“Not everyone here is on the prowl for a mistress. It’s still a fabulous party to network among the elite.”
“I guess.” Abrianna huffed and resumed touching up her makeup in the vanity mirror.
“What? Don’t tell me that you’re bored.”
“Okay. I won’t tell you.”
Angel smiled and lowered her voice. “Are you holding?”
Abrianna frowned, surprised.
“You look like you need a pick-me-up.” Angel snatched Abrianna by the wrist and dragged her down the hall to an empty bedroom. “C’mon. We have to be quick,” Angel warned, producing a vial of coke from her clutch bag.
“I thought you said that Madam Nevaeh frowned on our using while on the job?”
“What Madam doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Angel countered.
To Abrianna’s surprise, one of the charms on Angel’s bracelet was a tiny coke spoon. “In this job, one must always be prepared.”
“I’ll make sure that I remember that.”
A few minutes later, they emerged from the bedroom, smiling to themselves. The coke was weaker than the shit Abrianna was used to, but it lowered the level of buzzing in her head considerably. Maybe she’d be able to get through the night, after all.
Almost immediately upon their return from upstairs, Madam Nevaeh swarmed back to Abrianna’s side. Behind her, a strikingly handsome African-American man hovered.
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