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 jeopardize 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?”
The dressing room door swung open and a tall woman with short, platinum-blonde hair entered. “You get on out of here, Mary Sue. You’ll miss the late bus.” The older woman wore a tailored gray business dress, but the unnatural perk of her breasts and artfully applied makeup indicated she might once have been a performer here. “Good night, ladies. Be safe out there. Have one of the bouncers walk you out.” She dismissed the others with an equally concerned tone. But there was something more sinister than maternal in the blue-gray eyes that fixed on Riley. “New Girl, come with me.”
Mary Sue was quick to obey. “Sorry, Doreen. See you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night.” Riley pushed to her feet as her young coworker scooted on out the door with the others. “Who are you?”
“Opal Cunningham. I’m the lady who fills out your paycheck.” The false lashes above those cutting eyes blinked once. “Now move it.”
“Shouldn’t I be getting home, too? And I answer to Doreen, not New Girl.”
Opal stood to one side and pointed down the hallway for Riley to precede her. “Don’t give me any lip. You kept Rocky waiting. The boss doesn’t like that.”
Was the woman an accountant or an enforcer? Or just a has-been, eager to maintain her status around the club where she’d probably once been another Janis or Mary Sue?
Or Riley.
Remembered feelings of shame, fear, and that low, seething anger she’d lived with for years tried to surface from that lockbox of memories she kept buried deep inside. But with a vicious mental fist, she squashed the emotions and what-might-have-beens and closed the lid, reminding herself that she was here by choice now, not need. She was here for Megan. Riley had gotten out before she wound up a lifer like Opal Cunningham, full of implants and eye tucks and broken dreams, or before she’d become a scary missing statistic like Janis. And her sister.
This woman could talk all the smack she wanted. Riley had endured—and survived—worse than an alpha female guarding her territory.
“I thought Slade Russell was the boss.” Riley sauntered past the older woman into the hallway. Rocky’s office took her away from the circular stairs and guarded doors she wanted to know more about, but now wasn’t the time to press her luck.
Opal turned off the light in the dressing room and quickly caught up. “You’d be smart to do what you’re told, New Girl.”
Although she bristled at the sneering tone, Riley understood there was a pecking order to places like After Dark. She might have gotten in the door, but she wasn’t an insider. Not yet. Megan was counting on her to keep her cool and play her part. So she tucked her chin and followed the other woman into Rocky Calibrisi’s office. “Yes, ma’am.”
As soon as Riley took a seat in the chair in front of Rocky’s desk, Opal staked her proprietary claim on the club manager. The platinum blonde circled behind his leather chair and put her hands on Rocky’s shoulders. Her red-lacquered nails dug into his white-silk shirt, offering him a brief massage before she bent down to leave the bright red mark of her lips on his cheek. “You wanted to see the new bartender. I made sure she stopped in.”
Rocky leaned back in his plush chair and patted Opal’s hand. “Thanks, sugar. You finished counting down the till yet?”
“I’ll be ready to go to the bank when you are.”
He kissed her knuckles and shooed her out. Opal’s beaming smile turned into a warning glare for Riley as she left the room. If these two were an item, no wonder Opal made a point of asserting her higher status with the other girls. With Rocky’s wandering eyes and hands, he couldn’t be the easiest man to have a relationship with. Maybe Opal hadn’t been suspicious about the questions Riley had asked Mary Sue. Maybe she was just making sure the new girl understood that Rocky was off limits.
Riley covered the perplexed shake of her head by catching the waves of her hair and tucking them behind her ears. Then she spent several minutes paying dutiful attention to Rocky’s explanation of W-4 forms, job application sheet and why he had to make a copy of her driver’s license to prove she was of legal age to sell alcohol. Slimy he might be, but he seemed to be doing all the things he was supposed to as a manager to run After Dark as a legitimate business. And maybe the security guards were here because of the amount of money the club generated that would be kept on the premises.
The whole setup would be a perfect cover for something less savory and far more dangerous.
Her pen was hovering over the blank lines asking for emergency contact information when Rocky strolled around the desk to stand beside her chair. Seriously? He wasn’t fooling anyone with that reading over her shoulder bit. The creep was staring down her cleavage. And oooh, did his fingers just brush against her hair? “You sure I can’t get you onstage, sugar? With that milky-white skin and fiery hair, the customers would eat you up.”
The crude choice of words, paired with the double entendre in his lecherous gaze, was not a selling point. Opal was welcome to this douche bag as far as she was concerned.
“Rocky?” Maybe sensing her paramour’s wandering lust, Opal knocked on the door and charged back in. Whatever emergency had prompted her quick return died on her lips when she saw him hovering like a vulture over Riley’s chair.
The rat didn’t even have the class to apologize. To either woman. “What?”
Shoving aside her jealous insecurities, Opal quickly donned an efficient, indispensable businesswoman persona. “We’ve got an issue in the parking lot. Tyrone Jackson’s BMW got scratched. You know it wasn’t one of our boys. But he’s threatening to call Mr. Russell if we don’t take care of it.”
Rocky raked his fingers through his thick hair and swore. “I don’t need this right now. Not with this weekend—”
Opal shushed him before he could finish that sentence.
What was happening this weekend? Although Riley vowed she’d find out if it had anything to do with her sister, she knew she wouldn’t be getting her answers from these two. Not with the palpable feeling of urgency filling the room.
Rocky squeezed Riley’s shoulder. “Sugar, I know we’re not finished—”
“That’s okay.” Riley batted her eyes, shrugged an apology and pretended to be a little stupid for Opal’s benefit. “I need a few minutes to figure out this tax stuff, anyway.”
He winked. “Just leave the papers on my desk when you’re done.” He grabbed his jacket from his chair and ushered Opal out the door. “Let’s go.”
As soon as the door latched behind her, Riley set the completed forms, at least complete with the information she was willing to share, in the center of the desk and stood. She didn’t know how long a disgruntled customer would demand Rocky and Opal’s attention, but she wasn’t going to blow the opportunity to find out anything she could.
She circled the desk, shuffling through the papers on top before opening the drawers and checking inside. She found office supplies. A bottle of scotch. Inventory sheets and order forms. Frustrated by a locked drawer she couldn’t jimmy open, she moved on to the file cabinet behind the desk to tab through the folders there. With personnel info and state IDs on file, she might be able to track down an address for Mary Sue’s friend, Janis. Maybe Janis would know about Slade Russell’s side business. Maybe she’d even seen Megan, or something else she shouldn’t, and that’s why she’d gotten fired. Riley hoped that nothing worse had happened to the missing woman. No, what she really hoped was that she’d find a clue that could lead her straight to her sister.
Riley breathed in the spicy scents of musk and man a split second before she heard the door close behind her. Hell. She hadn’t heard a sound. Knowing she’d been caught, she closed the file cabinet and spun around, prepared to sweet-talk her way out of trouble with Rocky, or grovel to Opal.
But a big bear paw hand snagged her arm, and a sea of brown T-shirt blocked her view of the room before she could utter a word.
Josiah Kemp dipped his craggy face toward hers and whispered against her ear. “I knew you’d be trouble.”