It was much too early when Alicia was awakened by a noise. It pulled her out of a deep sleep and, for a moment, she was disoriented. Her body felt heavy and a headache gripped the back of her skull. Beside her, Remy grumbled. Rolling away from him, she swatted at her alarm clock.
She hit the nightstand instead.
‘Ow!’ The sting in her fingers made her pull back sharply. It also woke her up.
Remy pulled a pillow over his head. ‘It’s not your alarm. Someone’s at your door.’
He was backed up by the sound of knocking.
Leesha found the clock on the floor and turned it over so she could read it. It was 6:15 in the morning. She winced. ‘Who’s here so early?’
She’d barely got any sleep at all.
Her feet were clumsy when they hit the floor, and she nearly tripped on the tangle of sheets. The knocking intensified and she hurried to her closet to find her robe. Remy’s gaze followed her every step of the way. She’d been naked the entire night, but still he watched. The sun was low on the horizon, and it felt warm as it hit her body. They’d never got around to closing the curtains.
The doorbell started alternating with the knocking. ‘Alicia?’
She whipped her head towards Remy as she knotted the belt at her waist. ‘It’s my father!’
He rolled onto his back and stretched. ‘Son-of-a-bitch.’
What was she supposed to do? Her dad couldn’t find them together like this. He’d think she was sleeping with the enemy. That was bad enough, but in his world she didn’t even have sex. Her tired brain kicked into damage-control mode. ‘I’ll take care of him. Please be quiet?’
Her lover’s gaze was hot and lazy as he watched her. He was sprawled across her bed, naked and insanely gorgeous. He’d do exactly as he wanted, and she knew it.
He was not a man who could be handled.
She tried anyway. ‘Shhh.’
For her sake, she hoped he wouldn’t cause a scene.
She closed the bedroom door behind her, but heard a key scratching in the lock to her front door. Her stomach turned queasy when the handle started to turn. Was that how Paul had got in? Had he somehow managed to get hold of her backup key? She yanked the door open and planted herself in the way. ‘Dad?’
He took a step back in surprise. ‘Oh, you are here. I was starting to get worried. Why didn’t you answer the door?’
‘I was sleeping.’ She pulled the robe closer together at her neck and threw an anxious look at her bedroom. She didn’t trust that Remy wouldn’t follow her out, naked and grumpy. She pushed her hair out of her face. It was best not to tempt fate. ‘Why are you here? Is something wrong?’
He lifted a white bag and a cardboard carrier with two coffees. ‘I wanted to talk to you, and it’s been so long since we had breakfast together.’
Her heart softened a bit. One whiff and she knew he’d stopped for apple tarts at the bakery near the church. When her mother had been alive, apple tarts had been one of her specialties.
‘That’s sweet of you.’ She shot another peek at her bedroom door. ‘Let me get dressed, and we can eat them outside on the picnic table.’
He pushed right past her. ‘It’s already muggy out there. This is fine.’
Leesha bounced on her toes, uncertain what to do. She closed the front door and hurried along after him. It was all one big open area, but at least the kitchen table would be further away from any sounds Remy might make. Although the man could move like a ghost when he wanted.
She chose the seat on the opposite side of the table so she could watch the door. With nervous hands she tugged at her clothes. The summer robe she’d grabbed was short and slippery. Satin, she noted.
Bad choice.
She tucked it around her legs and wished she’d taken the time to put on underwear, at least. She was naked underneath and much too tender down there.
She took a gulp of coffee to try to hurry things along, but paused when she looked more closely at her father. He looked haggard. Old. At his age, it wasn’t healthy to be standing outside in the heat and sun all day long. He got so wound up when he was on one of his missions that he tended to forget to take care of himself, but this thing with Paul had struck him hard. ‘How are you feeling, Dad? You look tired.’
‘Tired and tried,’ he admitted. ‘It’s times like these that test men’s faith.’
‘Did you get many calls last night?’
‘Some.’ He’d been taking as many calls regarding the Paul situation as she had – enough that he was even learning how to use that cellphone she’d purchased for him months ago.
‘Are people looking for guidance or are they blaming the church?’
‘Both.’ He wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a sip of his coffee before planting his elbows on the table. ‘Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about.’
‘Really?’ He looked to her for management of the day-to-day activities of the church, but rarely spoke to her about the spiritual side. She took her counselling in the pews with everyone else on Sunday mornings.
‘I know we have differing opinions on what happened with Paul.’
Her eyes narrowed. That was safe to say. She thought the man was scum.
‘But I still feel we need to open our hearts to him. I spoke with him again last night, and he’s full of regret. There are extenuating circumstances, much as I expected. He’s in need, Leesha.’
The apple tart suddenly tasted sour. She set it aside and wiped her hands. ‘I don’t care what excuse he’s using. We should have nothing to do with him.’
‘He needs our support and understanding. He could use our help with his defence.’
She lifted her eyebrows. She understood about love and forgiving, but it was much too soon for her. ‘You want me to defend that man? After what he did to Jeanne?’
‘You don’t need to speak for him, although it concerns me that your heart is so hard. If the church could just assist with bail money and his legal fees –’
Alicia’s spine went rigid so fast, her robe fluttered around her arms. ‘Absolutely not!’
Her father folded his hands together and his countenance was one of patience. ‘It is better to forgive than to let hate overtake you, child. You know that.’
Hate had nothing to do with it. Not yet, at least. She hadn’t got past the anger. ‘I will not let Mom’s money go towards that despicable man.’
Something flickered in her father’s watery blue eyes. He’d loved her mother very much and had been crushed when cancer had taken her from them. Alicia had often got the sense that it irked him, though, that the inheritance from the Bradford family had been passed on to her rather than him. ‘Your mother was a kind-hearted, understanding woman.’
Yes, but she hadn’t been a pushover. ‘She wouldn’t have condoned what that man did in any shape or form. Neither should you.’
‘He made some mistakes, and he’s sorry for them.’ Her father shook his head in disbelief. ‘Why are you so vengeful? It frightens me.’
‘Vengeful?’ This from the man who had been picketing an establishment for weeks? One that had done nothing to him? The double standard finally got to her and she slapped both hands onto the table. ‘I’ll show you why I’m vengeful.’
She launched herself from the kitchen chair and was halfway to her bedroom before she realised what she was doing. Remy! She stopped in her tracks, but her father had already risen from his seat. ‘Leesha?’
‘Wait right there,’ she said sharply.
She’d just slip in, grab the camera and slip out. Using her body to block his view, she opened the door a few inches. She was surprised to find the bed empty. Worriedly, she looked around the room. She blinked when she saw the window open and the curtains fluttering in the morning breeze. Had he jumped out the window so they wouldn’t get caught? Relief swept through her. She could kiss the man.
Although kisses with Remy usually led to much more.
She grabbed the camera off her vanity, but came up short when she turned.
Her father hadn’t listened. He was standing in the doorway, looking at her demolished room. Her head snapped back around, looking for any tell-tale signs that might remain. To her, the story was clear. The bedding was twisted and pillows were under the nightstand. Her clock wasn’t the only thing that had landed on the floor, and a lampshade was knocked awry. She felt all the blood drain from her face, though, when her gaze locked on something else on the nightstand.
The tube of anal lubricant sat there, naughty but proud. Its label was bold and black.
Her backside throbbed, and she stood frozen in horror. There was no way she could hide it. She was all the way across the room.
She thrust the camera into her father’s hands. ‘I found this.’
Confusion pulled at his face. He wasn’t good with technology, and the implications flew right over his head.
‘It’s one of Paul’s cameras.’
‘What?’ He stared at the device for a long moment before glancing around the room again. His gaze automatically went to the bed, precisely where she didn’t want his attention.
‘It was up there.’ She pointed at the opposite wall. The grate was still off and the hole to the vent looked dark and suspicious.
It was clear when the clues clicked together in her father’s brain. Shock, disgust and nausea followed one another in succession on his face. ‘That rotten cur.’
He juggled the camera as if not wanting to touch it. Finally, he thrust it at her and hurried out of the room. ‘I’m sorry, Alicia. I didn’t know.’
She felt a pang of regret. She wished she hadn’t had to show him like that, but she’d felt so disrespected. So taken for granted. She wasn’t about to endorse or enable Paul Simonsen’s behaviour by bailing him out of jail.
She was one of his victims.
She dropped the camera, suddenly unable to touch it too. Pulling her robe tighter, she followed after her father and lingered near the living-room wall, feeling uncomfortable. They never spoke about things like this. Feelings and relationships were almost too much for him, but sex, perversions and obsessions …
Paul had betrayed his very belief system, but she prayed to God nobody ever showed him the tapes.
‘The immorality went further in him than I expected. Satan burrowed deep.’ Her father’s agitation was back. He dragged his knotted hands through his hair as he stalked about the room. ‘He begged me for forgiveness. He told me he’d been weak – that that filthy club had got into his head and put the idea there.’
The club? She stood a little straighter. He was turning this around on the Satin Club?
He spun on his heel. ‘Did you know they have a new dancer there? They’re calling her the Angel. The perversion of it!’
Alicia flattened her hand against the wall. How did he know about that? What had he been told? Had anyone described her?
‘Ahhh!’ He gave the paper bag on the kitchen table a swat. ‘That man. The dirty Crowe. This is his fault.’
‘You’re blaming this on Bas?’ she blurted. And quickly backtracked. ‘I mean, Sebastian Crowe?’
‘He’s the root of the evil. Just look at his past … the drinking, the gambling, the strippers, and then there was that car accident that hurt that girl … The sickness is spreading,’ her father railed. ‘We have to stop it! More men are being tempted. They’re drawing them in with promises of angels and heaven, but then they trap them in their depravity.’
Alicia felt her patience shredding, and she pointed at her bedroom door. ‘That camera was not the Satin Club’s fault. That was Paul and Paul alone. He taped me.’
‘Ah, but they’re insidious,’ her father argued, eyes brightening. ‘The signs are everywhere. Just look at you.’
‘Me?’ She sucked in a breath. Had he seen her and Remy through the window?
He waved up and down her. ‘You in your short, slinky robe. Where did you find such a thing?’
She tugged at the robe, trying to make it longer. She was unbearably conscious that she was still naked underneath. ‘I’ve had this for years.’
He spun away again and headed back towards the kitchen. ‘We need to rise up. We’ve been weakened, but we’ll not let them win.’
‘No, this has to stop.’ For once in her life, Alicia was adamant. ‘There’s no battle here. No more fighting. I won’t be authorising any funds for Paul, and I refuse to stand on that hot sidewalk one more day.’
He turned on his heel. ‘You must!’
‘I mustn’t anything. We need to take a long look at ourselves first.’ Her hands clenched into fists, but then all her energy left her. It just drained out her feet and into the floor. ‘Dad, we need to concentrate on getting people back into the church. We need to think about the message we’re giving them. We should be concentrating on peace and love.’
Her father stopped in his tracks, his face twisting angrily – but then his eyes glazed over and his mouth rounded. The finger he’d pointed at her slowly dropped towards the floor. It was as if he’d had an epiphany. ‘You’re right,’ he murmured. ‘We’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve been communicating with bystanders. Innocents. We haven’t dealt with the devil himself.’
‘Yes.’ Finally. It was what she’d been saying all along. If they had an issue, they needed to work it out with Bas one-on-one. He was a hard man, but he was reasonable. If not somewhat calculating.
Her father tapped his fingertips against his thumb, deep in concentration. ‘We need to change tactics. Retreat and reassess.’
‘Yes, we need to think about the direction …’
Her words trailed off when he turned towards the door. He left, without so much as another look her way. The door just clicked and she was suddenly alone without any goodbyes. From her lover or her father.
‘… of the church,’ she finished. She ran her hands unsteadily over her satin robe, more shaken than she expected. Had she got through to him? ‘People in glass houses shouldn’t throw –’
She let out a shriek when Remy suddenly appeared in the doorway of her bedroom.
‘Well, that was interesting.’
‘Remy!’ She clutched a hand to her heart. She had to have jumped five feet. ‘What are you doing here?’
He frowned at her. ‘You told me to be quiet.’
She hadn’t meant black-panther stealth mode. She looked over him swiftly. He’d put on his jeans, but not much more. ‘I thought you’d gone out the window.’
He let one eyebrow lift. ‘Like a sixteen-year-old boy running from his girlfriend’s daddy?’
No. Definitely not that. She patted her chest, waiting for her air to return. ‘Why was the window open?’
‘Because the room smelled like sex.’
Oh, God. She hadn’t even thought of that. She must have his scent all over her. She tugged at the sleeves of her robe, but then gave up. It was hard to be embarrassed around him after what they’d done together. ‘How much did you hear?’ she asked.
‘Enough.’
‘He knows about Angel.’
He pushed away from the doorframe and stood in front of her. ‘He doesn’t know it’s you.’
‘But he thinks she’s the source of all evil.’ She bit her lip. ‘That I’m evil.’
Reaching out, he caught her by the nape of the neck. ‘You’re not evil, baby.’
‘No?’ She let out a shuddering breath and stepped closer to him. Wearily, she leaned her forehead against his chest. ‘I don’t know what I am anymore, Remy. Good girl or bad. I just want all of this to stop.’
His thumb stilled where it had been stroking against her jaw. ‘All of it?’
He felt big, warm and protective. Dangerous, but not evil either. Her father liked to talk of soldiers. Remy had been one. ‘Not all,’ she said softly.
He kissed the top of her head and caught her hand. He began walking backwards towards the bedroom. ‘Come.’
‘Oh,’ she groaned. ‘I can’t.’
‘Let me take care of you.’ With sneaky hands, he untied her robe and pushed it off her shoulders. ‘We’re going to take a shower, and then I’m making you breakfast.’
She followed meekly, her steps shuffling. ‘I don’t think I can eat.’
He tugged her into the bathroom and closed out the world. ‘Believe me. You’ll work up an appetite.’
***
Several days later, Bas sat in his office watching the security monitors. There was an array of views to choose from. One camera was focused on the stage, there was one for each private room, and various external ones guarded the premises. The one that had his attention was directed at the park across the street.
‘Something’s wrong,’ he said into the phone. ‘It’s empty.’
In recent weeks, the park had become the home for the protesters.
‘Maybe they just haven’t shown up yet?’ Sam suggested.
No, that wasn’t it. The Sunny Epiphanies showed up like clockwork. Bas could feel the wariness prickling at the back of his neck. It was a warning sign he never ignored. ‘I don’t like it.’
A heavy sigh came over the line. ‘Isn’t that what you wanted? For them to go away?’
‘Yes, but only if they stayed away.’ He plucked up his stress ball. There was something off about this. The Sunny Epiphanies were a hardy bunch. Crazy, but hardy. They wouldn’t just not show. ‘There wasn’t any compromise, no last hurrah.’
‘Maybe they figured out that daylight isn’t prime time for a gentleman’s club?’
He scowled. The last thing he needed was for those loonies to start riding his high-rollers when they came in. Business had finally turned for the Satin Club. They needed to protect their clients’ privacy and keep them happy.
A knock came at the door and he waved Remy in.
‘They’re not anywhere around the neighbourhood,’ his operations man said.
Bas shook his head. ‘I’ve got to go, Sam.’
‘Don’t get too worked up about this. Things might finally be going right.’
He didn’t think so. One thing he’d never had in his life was good luck. He said his goodbyes and hung up.
Remy stood over the desk with his arms folded over his chest. ‘Maybe Alicia got to them.’
‘Alicia?’ Bas said. ‘Not Angel?’
He leaned back in his leather chair and stared at his friend. The tension that usually hovered like a cloak around the guy was gone. He hadn’t built any toothpick bridges or ripped off any waiter’s heads for days. He seemed relaxed, easy-going and, hell … almost content. What the fuck?
‘Are you going soft on her, Rem?’
The question earned him a glare, but Bas wasn’t impressed. He tossed the squishy ball back and forth in his hands. He might not catch every little detail of what went on in the place, but he got people. He was a student of human behaviour. ‘I knew you wanted to fuck her, but what’s going on between you two?’
Remy shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m just the one who remembers the rules of your bet. You told her to convince the protesters to stop.’ He glanced over his shoulder to the screen. ‘It looks like they’ve stopped.’
Bas looked again at the empty park. As parks went, it had always been a lonely place, but this seemed too good to be true. ‘You really think she got through?’
‘She laid down the law with Wheeler the other day.’
Bas grinned and pointed at him with the ball. ‘You mean the day he almost caught you with your pants down?’
The big guy scowled. There it was – the old bad attitude. ‘She cut off his money. I’d say that’s something.’
‘His money?’
‘Her inheritance. Her rules.’
Bas pursed his lips. Well, now. That was something. He considered the screen again. Maybe she was making progress.
But then another knock came at his door, and his wariness returned. ‘Come in.’
Charlie poked his head inside. ‘Boss, it’s Chanteuse. She wants to –’
The redhead blew right by the bouncer, strutting into the room. Only she wasn’t strutting, Bas realised. He sat up straighter. She was stomping. He looked her up and down. For someone who was usually a happy spirit, smoke was pouring from her ears and fire was sparking in her eyes. She was late, considering what time she was supposed to go on the stage, but she hadn’t even dressed yet.
‘They were at my house,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘With their signs and their bullhorns.’
Bas’s head snapped hard towards the empty park and Remy reached for his phone. His eyes had gone thunderstorm black. Oh yeah, that bad attitude was back with a vengeance.
‘The protesters?’
‘Who else wants to save my soul? Or tell me about my misdeeds and how I’m infecting the neighbourhood?’ She planted her hands on her hips and tapped her toe fast. ‘I live with my boyfriend, Bas. He’s a schoolteacher!’
‘Fuck,’ Remy snarled.
‘I had to walk through their picket line to get to my car. They were on his sidewalk.’
Bas slammed the stress ball down on his desk and let it fly. It bounced and hit the back wall. He was already out of his seat and moving to the window. The view wasn’t any different out of it. There wasn’t one Sunny Epiphany in sight.
Because they’d been at Chanteuse’s place instead. How many others were finding them on their doorstep?
The dancer raked a hand through all that glorious red hair. It was wild and flowing tonight, just like her mood. ‘How did they find me, Bas? I’m not in the book. I don’t give out my real name.’
He looked to Remy. ‘Has anyone new been in the club?’
‘No. We’ve been holding tight to the membership requirements ever since this standoff began.’
He looked at Charlie, who was still standing in the doorway.
‘It’s like Remy says, boss. We’ve even been watching over the deliverymen. They’ve all been the old stand-bys.’
‘Then what the hell is happening?’ he snapped.
Chanteuse flinched, but cocked her hip and flipped back her hair. It was clear that she wanted an answer, too.
She wasn’t going to get one. Bas signalled to Charlie. The fewer ears that heard, the better. He kept his employees happy with plump salaries, but gossip could poison the best of work environments. If he had to take care of this, it wasn’t something he wanted getting round. ‘Call all the girls scheduled to work tonight and see if anyone needs a bodyguard or a ride. Chanteuse, you might be holding down that stage tonight.’
Charlie shuffled his feet. ‘Ivy called in a few moments ago, saying she was sick. I didn’t know, boss.’
‘Call her back. Get the truth.’ Bas spun in a circle with his arms lifted. ‘Hell, all of you, get the fucking truth. I won’t have my girls being intimidated or harassed.’
Remy nodded at Charlie, and the bouncer accompanied the dancer from the room. Bas braced a hand against the wall and hung his head, trying to rein in his temper. Without asking, Remy took the chair behind the desk. He’d put away the phone, but he’d pulled a flash drive out of his pocket. He plugged it into the computer’s USB port and began clicking and typing fast.
Bas moved around the desk so he could see. ‘What is that?’
‘My notes on the picketers. I compiled them in a database.’
Of course he had. The guy was systematic. ‘What are you looking for?’
‘I don’t know, but something’s ringing a bell.’ The operations man tapped his thumb against the desktop as he flipped from parishioner to parishioner. It wasn’t a simple database. He had pictures and bios popping up on the screen with every click. ‘That.’
Bas found himself looking at a pug-faced man. He read the name underneath. ‘Steve Anders?’
Remy pointed at the man’s bio. ‘Owns a towing company.’
Anger was fogging Bas’s brain, but the gears began to turn. ‘So he knows a lot about cars. Makes, models, plate numbers …’
‘And he probably has friends either in the police department or the DMV.’
Bas slapped the desk and spun away. So the bastards had watched his employees. Son-of-a-bitch. He kicked the stress ball and it bounced across the floor. They’d either caught them as they’d arrived for work or waited until their shifts had ended. Either way, these parasites had connected the cars to his staff. His people trusted him to keep them safe.
He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Pain was suddenly shooting through his head like metal spikes. ‘Remy, take care of this Steve guy.’
‘It’s an assumption, Bas. I should confirm.’
‘I don’t care. I’ve got women being taunted and trapped in their homes.’ His vision was blurring. He closed his eyes and said very softly, ‘Find Steve.’
***
Alicia was late to church that Sunday morning. It had been a long, troublesome week. She should have known her father wouldn’t back down. She didn’t know why she was surprised at the way he’d twisted her words, but she was.
He’d targeted the Satin Club’s employees.
Her friends. Her co-workers. She was still embarrassed and apologetic to everyone. They’d been called sinners and harlots and worse.
He’d been so proud of the way his people had traced the licence-plate numbers. She still got woozy thinking about what could have happened if she hadn’t got into the habit of parking next door at the diner.
The capper, though, had to be the added joy of bailing her father out of jail. Clearly, he hadn’t listened to her when she’d explained the zoning code and the rules for lawful assembly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry and disappointed in him.
The irony didn’t slip past her. This was twice that the ‘good guys’, members of her church, had been arrested.
She took a deep breath before she entered the place of worship. She used to find such peace here, especially on Sunday mornings. She missed that side of the church, that side of her faith. It had been so long since she’d felt her spirit uplifted.
Raised voices caught her attention when she passed by the sanctuary, and her shoulders slumped. All this fighting, all the turmoil. What was it today?
She braced herself and followed the commotion. The vaulted ceiling of the sanctuary made sound carry. There was a group gathered around the front pew. Talk was rapid, a few people pointed and one woman had her hand over her mouth.
Alicia steadied herself. She didn’t like the looks of this.
She hurried down the main aisle. Was someone hurt? Was it her father? Had he collapsed?
She wove her way through the crowd and came to a sudden stop.
Oh, my.
Someone was down, all right. The reek of alcohol was strong. She waved her hand in front of her face, trying to find clean air. She couldn’t help but stare. Steve Anders was stretched across the front pew, snoring like a motor boat.
And wearing a lovely pink dress.
Leesha really couldn’t find words. The big, mustachioed tow-truck driver was using a purse for a pillow. His dress had cap sleeves and a full skirt, and it matched his pink pumps perfectly. From the look and fit of the ensemble, it was tailor-made.
Oh, the poor man.
She looked around worriedly at her fellow worshippers and saw judgment already forming harsh lines on their faces. Apparently, gruff conservative Steve, the man who stood at the front of the picket line every day, was a cross-dresser.