Bad Girl Page 2

  Ah, so maybe there was a chink in his male armor, after all. She pouted her lips into a smile. “You think I’m a distraction?”

  Nope. Her mistake. He touched two blunt fingers to her chin and turned her focus out to the soulful music, boozy smells, and velvet and brass, leather and dark wood appointments of the club. “Do you see any other women here? It’s staff only.”

  Riley glanced around at the colorful lights and secretive shadows. The only women she saw were cocktail waitresses in short shorts and too-tight jeans—and the dancer onstage with her leg wrapped around a pole, wearing little more than a G-string.

  When the stab of a memory tried to take her back in time, Riley quickly buried the thought and focused on the fact that not one of the women she saw was Megan. She wondered at the back doors on either side of the stage. Were there rooms back there for special customers? Maybe the ones driving the luxury cars and coming in the private side entrance? Could Megan be back there? Or inside one of the secluded booths?

  Her blood ran cold at the thought of her innocent little sister being subjected to the selfish whims of any one of the men here. “You don’t, um…” She lifted her chin from Josiah’s callused touch and tilted her face up to his. “The club doesn’t offer other types of entertainment besides drinking and…dancing, does it?”

  “What kind of question is that?” His dark eyes narrowed. “You’re going to be trouble for me, aren’t you?”

  A firm no would have been more reassuring. Riley chose not to respond to his suspicions. If there was something more sinister than sleazy going on at After Dark, and Megan had somehow gotten sucked into it… “I just need the job.”

  Doubt lingered in his eyes. “Don’t play me, sweetheart,” he warned. “I’ve got no problem tossing you out on your ass if I find out you’re up to something besides that ‘poor me’ shit.”

  Tough guys didn’t scare her. Of course, she’d never met one so immune to her charms before. But she’d figure out how to handle this one, too, if necessary. She arched an auburn brow. “It’s okay, Josiah. I don’t trust you, either.”

  The snippy statement earned her a chuckle and half a grin that bled into the rugged line of that scar beside his mouth. “I’m glad we understand each other.” He inclined his head toward the manager. “Go on. Give it your best shot.”

  Riley schooled the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. As she turned toward the bar, she caught Josiah’s gaze landing on her butt. Maybe he was just keeping an eye on a woman he didn’t trust. But her lips curled into a smile as the half-hooded gaze followed her weaving path through the tables.

  Sucker. You’re not so tough, after all. And he was definitely into women. Maybe even into her, especially, judging by the unblinking interest warming her backside. She just hadn’t offered him the right bargaining chip.

  Savoring the silent victory over at least one man here, Riley carried herself a little straighter, strutted a little harder. She had this. The bad girl who’d survived two years on the streets was alive and well, and about to make After Dark—and whatever secrets it could share about her sister—her own.

  She spied the short, muscular man who seemed to be in charge and sauntered right up to him. “Are you Rocky?”

  “I don’t want to hear any more complaints. Now go make the customers happy.” The manager swatted the rump of the waitress who was near tears at the end of their one-sided conversation and sent her on her way.

  The stab of compassion she felt for the dark-haired woman didn’t show anywhere on Riley’s full-lipped smile when he turned to face her. “I’m Rocky Calibrisi.” His gaze settled on her cleavage. “What can I do for you, sugar?”

  “I was hoping I could get a job tending bar. I’ve got lots of experience.” Riley raised her voice over the clinking of glass and chattering of voices around the bar. “The bouncer, Josiah, said you were the man in charge and I should talk to you.”

  His dark eyes met hers. “We’re not hiring, sugar. All our girls are on the stage or waiting tables. Go home.” He walked away from her to shake hands with two men at the end of the bar. “Are you gentlemen enjoying your evening?”

  Uh-uh. Doreen Riley didn’t give up that easily.

  As the friendly guy talk ensued between Rocky and his guests, she slipped beneath the gate at the end of the bar, dropped her purse beside one of the cash registers on the mirrored back wall and hurried past the bartender filling trays at the waitress station to join them.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Riley poured on the flirt, and pointed to their watered down drinks. “Old-fashioned and a Colorado bulldog? Can I get you another?”

  The two men, maybe little more than college-aged, trust fund frat boys, were suddenly more interested in her than in Rocky.

  “Sure.”

  “You can get me anything you want, babe.”

  Trading sympathetic nods with the harried bartender, Riley quickly made fresh drinks and returned to the end of the bar. She removed the used glasses, wiped away the condensation on the bar top and slid the fresh drinks in front of the frat boys. Both of them slapped bills on the counter, eager to make an impression on her.

  Riley looked beyond them to the short man in the light gray suit. “That’ll be…?”

  Rocky nodded approvingly. “Four-fifty each.”

  The young man who’d laid down a twenty pushed it across the bar. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks.” Riley rang up the drinks on the cash register’s computer screen, then stuffed the extra bills into her bra. When she winked her thanks, the two men practically drooled into their drinks.

  With a little direction from the bartender who seemed relieved to have the help, Riley filled several more orders. She made sure that the manager saw how quickly and accurately she worked—and how her red hair and teasing flirtations lured several more men to come over and buy drinks.

  Forty-five minutes later, when the lights dimmed and the music changed for a new performer to take the stage, Riley could finally catch her breath. The mirror behind the prime-label bottles she was wiping down revealed Rocky Calibrisi coming behind the bar to join her.

  She smiled at his approving nod in the mirror. She kept smiling when he palmed her hip and pulled her aside. Riley had learned long ago how to hide any kind of reaction to the free grope. She let him corner her against the polished teakwood of the bar gate. “What’s your name, sugar?”

  “Doreen Riley.”

  “What do you go by? Doreen? Dorie? Dee?”

  She didn’t have to look up to meet his hooded gaze. “You can call me Doreen.”

  He fingered the top button of his silk shirt, perhaps hoping to draw her attention to the black chest hair curling at the open collar. “When can you start?”

  This guy was almost as easy to manipulate as the frat boys had been. “I already did.”

  “Take a break at ten. Pour a tray of sodas and take them around to the bouncers then.” He pointed to the dark-haired waitress he’d chewed out earlier. “Introduce yourself to Mary Sue. She can help you with the staff drinks. She’ll show you the back room and an empty locker, too. Stop by my office after closing and we’ll fill out some paperwork.”

  “Will do.” Paperwork? That sounded more legit than the kind of operation she was looking for. But rumors about shady dealings at After Dark had to be gossiped about for a reason. She’d find out the truth, and she’d find Megan.

  “Thanks.” She deliberately dropped a hint that she was willing to get closer to him, and hopefully to the inner workings of the club. “I owe you one.”

  Rocky nodded, looking smugly pleased with that response, before turning away and disappearing through the door to the left of the stage.

  “Hey, babe. How about some service down at this end?” A customer slapped a twenty on the bar top and gave her an order. Riley pulled two draughts and smiled.

  Josiah Kemp could stuff his suspicions about her.

  She was in.

  Chapter Two

  After
last call and a thorough cleanup, Riley slung her purse over her shoulder and followed Mary Sue through the empty club. She’d earned enough in tips to make her car payment—a fortune for her in the old days. But she wasn’t interested in the money.

  She was making connections.

  “My feet are killing me,” she admitted honestly to her new friend. While her three-inch heels had given Riley the look she needed to get into After Dark, she was paying the price for the sexy masquerade. “Do you think Rocky would mind if I wore tennis shoes tomorrow?”

  She’d need them to retain her energy for the after-hours search she intended to conduct.

  “He likes us to look our best for the customers. Tight, short and uncomfortable are his favorite looks.”

  Riley laughed, glad to see the young brunette’s mood had improved enough to give in to sarcasm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I stash a pair of flip-flops in my locker to change into before I head home. As long as you bring a padlock, it’s safe to stow your gear in the dressing room. Josiah and his crew keep a good watch on things.”

  Riley’s head turned back to the front door at the mention of the burly bouncer’s name. Although they’d traded a few looks across the club throughout the night—hers, haughty and victorious at proving she could get the job; his, full of distrust or maybe even contempt—and she’d served him a lemon-lime soda at ten, she hadn’t had the opportunity to exchange more than a curt “Thanks” and “You’re welcome.” They’d both been far too busy working.

  The only times he’d left his post at the door was to quiet down a pair of customers who’d drunk more than they should and inform them he was calling a cab. And later he’d disappeared into the back rooms for about twenty minutes. She supposed he was taking his break, but he’d stalked back out with Rocky dogging his heels and prattling out orders. The tight line of Josiah’s mouth deepened the scar there, contorting his expression. When he caught her staring, she’d actually mouthed, “What’s wrong?” to him, sensing his anger or frustration. She’d even worried that they’d found out the truth about her reason for being at After Dark, and braced for a confrontation.

  But as quickly as he’d revealed the emotion, Josiah Kemp had buttoned up into silent, surly and scary once more before sliding open the brick red curtain at one of the nooks. He chased out a dancer from the secluded table and showed the startled male customer the front door.

  Josiah didn’t know her secret.

  She was safe.

  So why was her heart still beating faster?

  “Yoo-hoo, earth to Doreen. Coming?” Mary Sue sounded as tired as Riley felt as she held open the thick door at the back of the club, painted black and marked Employees Only.

  With a quick apology, Riley caught the door and followed her. The doorway led into a long, two-story hallway, lined with the original bricks from the 1920s and dimly lit. The number of black doors down either side of the ground floor, and on the walkway above them, made Riley think this building must have once housed a live theater or burlesque club. Which of these doors had Josiah gone through that had put him in such a mood? What had he seen? What had Rocky said that had turned him into that snarling beast?

  “What’s behind all these doors?” Riley asked, craning her neck and slowly spinning to take in the number of rooms, catwalk and exit sign at the end of the hall, which must lead to the side parking lot.

  “Storage closets, offices, dressing rooms.” Mary Sue pointed to the elevator directly across from the back of the stage. The uniformed security guard sitting on a stool in front of the iron gate nodded as they walked past, and Mary Sue’s fingers fluttered in a shy wave. “He prefers hot coffee with a shot of cream instead of a soda when he takes his break. Even in the summer.”

  “I’ll remember that. What’s he guarding?”

  “That’s the way to get up to Mr. Russell’s office and penthouse where he stays when he’s in town. He travels a lot.”

  Riley took note of the logo patch on the guard’s shirt. Russell Security. Slade Russell not only owned the club, but his own private security firm? Were Josiah and his team part of that? What was going on behind the scenes that required men with guns, while unarmed bouncers kept the peace with the customers out front? “Is Mr. Russell here now?”

  “I don’t think so. Usually the gate’s open when he is.”

  If the lights had been up full, Riley might have thought she was on a historic architecture tour. But where there were shadows, guards, gates and guns, there were secrets. And she intended to find a way to search every part of the building if it would get her closer to finding her sister.

  Like that room.

  She looked toward the circular metal staircase that led up to the second floor catwalk near the side entrance. At the top of the stairs, another guard waited for a tall man in an expensive suit to step out of from behind yet another black door. The guard locked the door and followed the man, deep in conversation on his cell phone, down the stairs. “What’s that about?”

  Mary Sue paused beside Riley for a moment. The man in the suit ended his call and immediately punched in another before leaving out the parking lot exit with the guard. Then she tugged on Riley’s arm and pushed open a door marked Women. “That’s Mr. Russell’s side business.”

  “Side business?” She was definitely checking that room. When she’d served the guard a diet cola earlier in the night, he’d come down the stairs to get his drink. Clearly, only certain people were allowed upstairs. Maybe a little more information before she charged up there to look around wouldn’t hurt. “The club was jumping tonight—in the middle of the week. I imagine Slade Russell is already a wealthy man. What does he need a side business for?” When they stepped into the white walls of the women’s dressing room, Riley squinted at the sharp contrast to, well, every other part of After Dark. With a trio of chattering strippers changing into street clothes, and three more waitresses packing up their tips and hanging their aprons inside metal lockers, Riley lowered her voice to a whisper. “What does he do in there?”

  The well-lit room also revealed a smear of mascara from her earlier crying jag beneath Mary Sue’s blue eyes. “Don’t ask, don’t tell. The less you know, the less trouble you can get into around here.” The younger woman pointed to the locker next to hers. “You can use that one. It belonged to my friend Janis. She won’t be needing it anymore.”

  Riley opened the locker and saw it had been cleaned out except for the pink plastic-framed mirror tacked to the inside of the door. “Why not?”

  The brunette’s narrow shoulders lifted with a sigh. “Rocky fired her.”

  “Is that why you were upset with him tonight?”

  “That’s part of it. Sometimes the customers like to hit on you. We’re supposed to let them. You know, make their visit to After Dark a friendly experience so they’ll drop a lot of money and want to come back?” Mary Sue shrugged out of her clingy silk blouse and pulled a country-music-band T-shirt from her locker to put on. “I just wasn’t in the mood tonight.”

  “Because of Janis?”

  The petite woman’s blue gaze darted up to Riley. She glanced around the room, then leaned in closer to whisper. “Because I have no idea where she is. I think Rocky knows, but he won’t tell me anything. I tried calling Janis on her cell but she never picked up.”

  Riley knew the feeling. She’d been calling Megan’s cell without an answer for days now. She closed her locker and leaned back against it to face the woman who couldn’t be much older than her sister. “Why did Rocky fire her?” Riley put up her hands and grinned an apology, making her interest sound more like self-preservation rather than a desperate need for answers. “I don’t want to make the same mistake.”

  “Me, either. She was real popular with the customers. She had regulars who always sat at her tables.” Mary Sue stuffed her tip money into a backpack. “You know, Janis has a kid. A little boy who lives with her mother. She supports all three of them. She wouldn’t do anything to jeop
ardize her job here.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe Rocky or Mr. Russell asked her to do something she wasn’t comfortable doing.”

  Mary Sue’s gaze lost its focus before darting up to Riley’s again. “Like what?”

  “Like getting extra friendly with a customer. Maybe like that guy we saw on his phone leaving out the side door.” Mary Sue hugged her backpack to her chest and sank onto a nearby chair. Distress clouded around the waitress. Sensing there was a lot more the girl could tell her, Riley went to her and knelt beside her. She clasped Mary Sue’s trembling hand and whispered. “Did Rocky ask you to do something like that? Are there…other women here who do…something more?”

  Mary Sue’s fingers tightened around hers. “You’re not talking about lap dances, are you?”

  “I’m talking turning tricks. Prostitution. Whether the woman is willing or not.” She glanced toward the door. “That locked room on the second floor—the side entrance with the guards—could that be Slade Russell’s side business?”

  “Janis would never do that. She has a son.”

  Riley had known more than one acquaintance on the street who’d turned tricks to support a kid.

  “Maybe they lied to her—promised her more money if she modeled for a friend, and ended up taking nude photos…or something else. What would Rocky or Mr. Russell do to Janis if she said no?” Mary Sue shook her head, unwilling to answer. “Please, this is important. Are there other women—other girls—inside that room? Or hidden upstairs?”

  Mary Sue pulled her hand away. “I haven’t been through all of the building. I don’t even know if the whole place has been remodeled. I stick to the ground floor like Rocky tells me and do my job.”

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” But Riley had a sick feeling the rumors were true. There was something hinky going on at After Dark. She clasped Mary Sue’s wrist. “Did Rocky ask you to do something behind one of those locked doors? Did he say how pretty you were, and that a modeling agent might be interested in hiring you?”