Chapter 9

He stood motionless, but Mariah knew he could move lightning-quick when a situation called for it.

God, she was furious at her vulnerability to him. “I didn’t run.”

“Why? Did? You? Run?”

“Bite. Me.”

Anthony’s lips tensed. “Mariah, don’t play with me.”

“Oh, please. Get over yourself,” she shot back, her voice low and taut with anger.

He had a thunderous expression that was unfamiliar to her, but she refused to back down.

Mariah, unaware that she’d taken two steps toward him, pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “Information-sharing is not a post-requisite for sex. You don’t have papers on me; you’re not my father or Terry and –”

“Don’t.” He sliced a hand through the air and took a step forward, the muscles of his jaw working. “Don’t go there. Don’t compare me to them. I care about you; they didn’t.”

Mariah clamped her mouth shut, stunned by his blunt admission. Part of her sensed that he did, but the cautious side of her heart was afraid to believe it. Stumped, Mariah wandered toward the window and paced. She shook her head. “This is insane,” she murmured to herself, though her words were loud enough for Anthony’s ears.

“What? That people can have deep feelings for someone in a short period of time?”

Disconcerted, Mariah crossed her arms and averted her eyes. She felt him come up behind her, close enough to feel his breath on the space between her shoulder and neck, and her heart pounded an erratic rhythm. She tingled when he said her name.

He swung her into the circle of his arms, his eyes tender. Without warning, both hands closed over her shoulders. Keeping her eyes level with his chest, Mariah unfolded her arms and placed her palms on flat against it, the heartbeat was strong and sure. Anthony put a hand under her chin, lifting her face. Mariah raised her eyes and saw a fiery invitation in the depths of his, not just physical, but emotional as well.

His hands found their way down her arms to the indentation of her waist, pulling her closer. When she remained silent, he answered for her in the form of a question, his timbre more frightening for its gentleness. His eyes locked with hers. “Why are you afraid of me, Mariah?”

“I am not.” Mariah’s eyes widened with exasperation.

One corner of his lips tilted in a slight, knowing smile and he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, her eyes, and he kissed her soft mouth. His hands caressed the planes of her back before cupping her buttocks through her skirt, bringing her body flush with his.

Mariah’s body tingled from the contact. Her arms twined around his neck as she drank in the sweetness of his kiss. She felt herself guided across the room until the backs of her legs met the soft chair. Hungry lips and tongues advanced and parried as Anthony urged her down. One hand, big and square with its blunt fingertips and close-cut nails, spread across Mariah’s chest and pushed her back.

His beautiful head bent, and Mariah felt his warm, open-mouthed kisses on the tops of her thighs, which parted of their own volition. Bolts of pleasure zipped throughout her body, settling low in her abdomen. Lean hips nestled against her damp heat as his other hand grabbed the hem of her skirt, delving under it, exploring the supple, yet firm lines of her thighs, her hips, before removing her underwear.

Anthony’s powerful hands settled around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Bewildered, but too aroused to stop him, Mariah reached out, her fingers curving into his forearms as her wedges gave her a sense of balance. The air in the room was heavy, and she couldn’t seem to breathe in enough to sustain her.

Anthony’s nostrils flared as his fingers unbuttoned her tunic. Mariah sat up and shimmied out of the garment, the material sliding down her back, over her arms. Anthony dropped it on the floor beside the chair, and a lace bra with a front clasp followed. The air-conditioning unit turned on at the moment and cool air drifted over Mariah’s skin.

Anthony lowered Mariah back down and kissed her. Mariah spine curved and her fingers came up, clenching in his hair, pleading for more.

Anthony drew back, his right hand on her hip while he unzipped his pants. He bowed over her, their mouths grazing. He dipped his head again, his hot mouth opened at the pulsing base of her throat before moving up to graze her earlobe. “Hang on,” he ground out, his breath against her ear, then dove into Mariah with unerring accuracy.

She threw her head back, unable to stifle her sob of intense fulfillment when Anthony’s hands circled her hips. Mariah’s fingers dug into the muscles of his forearms as she mimicked his movements.

Anthony lifted her legs, draping each of them over his forearms, opening her farther to him. He bowed over her again, lowering his head, capturing her lips with his, sending Mariah’s senses reeling.

A deep-throated moan escaped and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He propelled his hips forward and Mariah’s eyes expanded even more and a startled, erotic-filled yell erupted from her throat, the sensation equivalent to the effect of dropping a match in a gasoline lake.

Anthony’s responding growl resonated in his chest, his fingers digging into the fabric of the chair. He turned his head until his lips met the silky skin of Mariah’s inner thigh, opened his mouth and laved it with his tongue.

Mariah’s bliss multiplied, and she could no longer hold back. Anthony laughed, the sound a blend of arousal, surprise and determination. As her warmth vibrated and convulsed around him, he fought against himself to prolong her experience. They rode the seas of rhapsody until their bodies were in exquisite harmony with one another. Their union was a raw act of possession, and when Mariah reached the pinnacle again, wailing his name in sweet agony, Anthony abandoned himself to the whirl of sensation. He bent forward, capturing her mouth in a voracious kiss as he pumped higher and faster, until they were hurtled past the point of no return.

#

When the storm of passion subsided, Anthony lowered Mariah’s legs and moved toward the nearest nightstand. He pulled out a few tissues from the box on top of it and pressed them into Mariah’s hand. Her eyes skittered away from him as she took them from him and hurried to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and rested against it, her eyes closed. Her mind churned. She’d lost her grip on reality. She just had sex without protection.

What was she going to do if she got pregnant?

#

While Mariah was in the bathroom, Anthony pulled up his boxers and removed his clothes. Similar thoughts were racing through his head. He never went without a condom, but he got caught up in the moment, in his need to make her understand how he felt about her.

Mariah opened the bathroom door and he drew near, stopping in front of her. She tried to look away from him.

“Stop.”

She raised her eyes to find him analyzing her reaction. “What?”

“Looking away. We just had unprotected sex.” He was worried, but not sorry. Anthony took her hand. “I’ve never done that before, but know if you get pregnant…” He pressed a heavy, yet gentle hand across her abdomen.

Mariah acknowledged his words with a nod. “I know you wouldn’t be a deadbeat dad. I just…” She looked away. “I didn’t come here for…that.”

“Really?” For the first time since they met, Anthony’s lips bowed into a full, unhurried, predatory smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and dimpled his cheeks. “I did. I planned on making you pay for running away from me. I’m gonna make your eyes roll back,” he rasped with wicked, erotic conviction, “rest up, then do it over and over again.” Locking eyes with hers, he walked backward to the bed, pulled a box of twelve condoms out of a drawer, and set it down on top.

Heat ignited Mariah’s nervous system, and her mouth fell open with a click.

#

The next morning, Mariah called her mother and Solé late to let them know she was okay.

Then she took Anthony on a tour after breakfast. “We’re about 13 miles away from Midtown Manhattan and you can get to the GWB in fifteen minutes.”

They stopped by her house that morning so she could change clothes and bring some more back to the hotel. It was after eleven and Anna was at work. Twice a month she had appointments on Saturdays. “And depending on where you are, you can see the New York City skyline.”

Hackensack, the capital of Bergen County, was a suburb full of diversity in its people and neighborhoods. Hackensack had several major roads and plenty of bus and train routes that stopped throughout New Jersey into Manhattan. “Solé and I often hopped on the 175 or 178 to Teaneck to shop on Cedar Lane in Teaneck, or if we felt really adventurous, we took the 165 or 168 into Midtown.”

“So what’s the average price of a house?” Anthony asked in a neutral tone.

Mariah gave him a quick glance. “About $350,000, since we’re so close to the city. And the rents are high, too. No rent control for any building erected after 1980. I learned that while I was looking for my first apartment.” As they drove down River Street Mariah pointed to her right, the strap of her gold purse loose on her shoulder. “Foschini Park. Solé and I used to ride our bikes down here and watch baseball games.”

She gestured toward the tennis court in Johnson Park further down on River Street, near the bridge that crossed over the Hackensack River into Teaneck, the town right across the bridge and home of Fairleigh Dickinson University. Since the weather was fair, there were two couples playing mixed doubles.

“Mom and I used to play at least once a month in good weather.”

Next on the tour was the high school.

They parked near Beech and First Street so they could walk down, and Anthony grasped her hand in his, their fingers entwined as they approached the school.

Mariah didn’t unlock her fingers, too startled by the gesture to offer any objection. The two made a striking couple, Anthony so virile in his navy blue crew neck tee and cargo pants and sneakers; Mariah, petite in her daffodil draped tunic, blue grotto wash capris and gold metallic wedges.

“Some school,” he commented, impressed with the size of it.

The structure occupied both sides of First Street with three stories on one side and two levels on the other, the buildings joined by an enclosed bridge. “The Bridge”, as the students called it, extended over First Street and connected the east wing of the school to the west wing.

“They had a crossing guard for us,” Mariah explained. “But in bad weather most kids chose The Bridge rather than crossing the street. It got crowded and hectic up there, especially since there are classrooms and lockers on it, too.”

“How many kids enrolled here?”

Mariah closed one eye for a moment in deliberation. “More than a thousand, easily. It’s not just Hackensack residents. Others are from smaller towns like Maywood, Rochelle Park, South Hackensack and Ridgefield Park. Sole’s oldest brother once told us that he knew kids from Paterson who moved in with relatives near here, just so they could enroll in Hackensack High.”

“Why?”

“Because back in the Eighties, their school, East Side High, was one of the toughest inner-city schools in the state,” Mariah enlightened with a significant lifting of her brows. “And then there was Principal Joe Clark. He didn’t play around. He patrolled the school with a bullhorn and a Louisville Slugger baseball bat.”

#

When they returned to the hotel room Anthony ordered room service. While they waited, he treated her to a massage, kneading the muscles between her shoulder and neck with skillful precision. After a few minutes, Mariah nearly melted into the mattress at the contact. “Okay, I hate to say this, but you’d better stop or I’ll fall asleep.”

He removed his hands from her shoulders and Mariah felt his body heat disappear. She rolled onto her back and raised herself on her elbows.

Anthony moved to lie on his side, his head on his hand. His brow crinkled as he watched Mariah, as if he were debating something. “I was engaged once,” he admitted.

Mariah’s eyebrows shot up. “Gran D failed to mention that.”

“Three years ago. I met Lisa in college during our sophomore year. In the middle of her junior year, her mother died. Her father was having a hard time coping and she had a younger brother who needed her. She lived in California, and between the long distance and family problems, we lost touch. Four years ago, I bumped into her at a mall in New York. She’d just started a new job at a major food company. We were single and her family was doing well, so we picked up where we left off. I proposed after a year.”

“So what went wrong?”

“My job. When my partner Glenda got shot several months later, Lisa said she couldn’t handle it, and I didn’t want to quit the force, so she broke off the engagement.”

Mariah rolled toward him, mimicking his posture. “Were you in love?”

“I was, but…there was always something…the pieces didn’t fit.”

Mariah nodded with understanding. She felt the same way about Terry. “What made you quit?” she asked.

A shadow crossed Anthony’s face, like the shuttering of window blinds. “It was time to go.”

#

“I’m sorry, Anthony,” came Anna’s regretful reply over an hour later. “Mariah’s not here.”

Anthony shut his eyes, catching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb as he stood on the porch. He should’ve known she would take off. Something told him to come back from his run sooner, but the icy tension that developed between him and Mariah in a short span of time necessitated a stress reliever.

Anthony lowered his hand and when he lifted his eyes, hurt flickered there. “She’s gone back to Raleigh.” It was more a statement than a question.

Anna wrapped her arms around herself. Anthony noted the gesture as one of self-comfort and fear. “I’m not happy about that.” Her gaze climbed up to his. “Call it mother’s intuition or just my desire to have her home but…I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

“You’ve lost one daughter already, Ms. Hennessey. Who could blame you?”

She approached him, placing a hand on his forearm and sheer, black fright etched on her face. “I can’t lose her, too. Please. Watch over her.”

Anthony’s gaze was solemn and steady, and what he said next brought Anna to tears.

#

Raleigh, North Carolina

It was after two in the morning when Mariah arrived at Allegra’s. By then, the 5-Hour Energy was starting to wear off and all she wanted was a good night’s sleep. She peeled off her clothes and fell into bed, not even bothering to brush her teeth.

Despite ten hours of sleep, Mariah felt the pockets of fatigue settle into her eyes when she woke up. Anthony’s refusal to answer her question was tantamount to rejection, and it felt like a rapier across the skin.

She needed to occupy her mind with other things.

Mariah showered and put on a plain white tank top, khaki shorts and flip flops. Then she left messages with her mom and Solé, letting them know that she was okay.

When she stepped outside, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The temperature had to be in the upper nineties because the sun was beaming and a rush of stifling air slapped her, clinging to her face like plastic wrap. A bead of sweat emerged on her temple and she wiped it away before getting into her car. She needed to see Gran D.

A brief rain touched down, and by the time Mariah got to Gran D’s, the air was stickier than before.

“I understand how ya feel, baby,” Gran D replied after Mariah finished telling her tale, “but runnin’ ‘way doesn’t help.” They sat at the table, each with a glass of sweet tea in hand.

An affronted frown dotted Mariah’s brow. “So I should’ve stayed and swallowed the tension? I can’t do that again.” Her hand tightened around the glass.

Gran D slid her eyeglasses to the end of her nose and pinned Mariah with a glare. “Anthony’s not Terry. Ya gotta let that go, baby, or it’s gonna eat ya up.”

Gran D just didn’t understand.

By the time Mariah returned to Allegra’s, she was more troubled than ever.

When she stepped out of the car to check the mailbox, it was empty. Then she remembered that Beth Lareaux offered to pick up the mail while she was gone. Mariah noticed that there we no newspapers piled up by the front door either, so Beth must’ve picked those up, too.

When Mariah knocked on Beth Lareaux’s door, the older woman handed Mariah the mail and newspapers and reported that all was well in her absence. She offered her a cup of tea, but Mariah was so weary in spirit that she couldn’t muster up the courage to accept. Beth must’ve seen the fatigue in her eyes, so she didn’t press, but left the invitation open.

As Mariah headed back to Allegra’s, she leafed through the mail. Electric bill, water bill, junk. She opened the bills first, then tossed the junk mail in the kitchen trash, placed the plastic-encased newspapers on the kitchen table and picked up her duffel bag. This morning she was so tired she had left it by the door. Tucking the bills under her arm, she grabbed the bag, took it upstairs and opened it. After tossing the bills on the bed, she began to unpack. Mariah put her dirty clothes in the hamper across the room and hung up the clothes she hadn’t worn. So intent on what she was doing, she almost missed the blinking light on the phone. Mariah checked the messages. Two were from Thomasina, and one from a mailbox store reminding Allegra that her account was up for renewal.

Mariah’s brow crinkled. She didn’t know Allegra had a private mailbox account. Curious, she grabbed her purse and rushed out the door.

A woman with box braids stood behind a counter and welcomed Mariah when she entered the mailbox store, which was part of a small shopping center and flanked by a pizzeria on the left and a bank on the right. “Hi, may I help you?”

Mariah approached the counter and breathed in a sigh of relief when the air-conditioned breeze washed over her. She pulled her sunglasses off, placing them on top of her head. Her gaze swept the store from left to right, taking in the various mailing products that hung on the walls and stood on the floor, the gold color of the mailboxes, the copy machine in the far corner and the scale on the counter. She was the only customer here. Good. “Hi, someone called about Allegra St. Cloud’s account. I’m here to close it.”

#

Anthony woke up in a foul mood that afternoon. He cracked open his eyes. At least he was in his own bed.

Even though he’d left Hackensack after Mariah, his trip was packed with traffic jams on the Turnpike, then another in Richmond. At times, it felt as if the universe was conspiring against him.

He threw back the covers and scrubbed his face with his hands. A hot shower and a good meal should get him back on track, and then he had to pick up Ming from the kennel.

#

As soon as Mariah left the mailbox store and got in her car, she opened the handwritten, self-addressed envelope the employee gave her. Inside was a renewal lease, also handwritten, using Allegra’s middle name and a false surname. Mariah’s brow slanted in a frown. The street sounded familiar and Mariah searched her mind for known cross streets, but was unsuccessful.

You’re the questioner, the investigator. You need to ask questions now. I know you’ll find the answer.

“What were you up to, Allegra?”

Though the street eluded her memory, the zip code told her it was in Southeast Raleigh, not far from Gran D. She entered the address into her GPS system, turned on the ignition, pulled down her sunglasses and shifted the gear into Reverse.

Mariah left her car on with the air-conditioner pumping as she peered through her windshield fifteen minutes later. The address was closer to Wake Med than Gran D. The small, single-level house stood on a dead-end side street. It had to be at least forty years old and the structure had seen better days. The pale brick was in desperate need of power washing or replacement, and the driveway consisted of grass and rock. Many of the houses on the block were in similar condition, and some even had toys and other debris littering the front yard. Mariah doubted that the neighborhood received any deliveries, and there weren’t many street lamps in the area, either.

Mariah pulled out her cell phone and the letter, and dialed the number on it. A man with a smoker’s voice answered on the third ring, and instructed her to come to his house a few minutes away.

Less than ten minutes later, Mariah pulled her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose, then peered out of her passenger window before pushing them up again.

This home was also ranch-style, but tidy, and not far from Poole Road. A newly washed black Dodge Nitro sat in the middle of the paved driveway on the side of the house. The front yard didn’t have flowers, but the grass was mowed and clear of debris.

The sun beamed down on her head and the humid air hovered over her as Mariah got out of the car and locked it remotely before heading to the front door.

Swatting away a bug of indeterminate species, Mariah knocked on the door and when it opened, the bell attached to it jingled.

A dark brown woman with graying dark hair pulled into a bun and dark eyes stood behind the screen door. She appeared to be in her early to mid-fifties and held a lit Newport cigarette in her right hand.

The woman stood about Mariah’s height, but she was broader through the shoulders and waist. The hard, sharp glint in her eyes let you know that she wasn’t someone to fool with. Mariah wouldn’t be surprised if the woman had a shotgun behind the door. She cleared her throat. “Hello. I just called y—”

The woman pushed the screen door outward, causing Mariah to step back a foot. Mariah surmised that the woman must’ve been born and bred here, because she wore a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, despite the scorching temperature. “Yeah,” she answered in a heavy accent.

Mariah fought to keep the surprise off her face, and was grateful she kept her sunglasses on. The man she’d talked to was a woman. “Hi, I just called.”

“When do ya need the place?”

Mariah blinked and fought to regain her composure. No credit checks or references? “No, I wasn’t calling to rent. I was—”

“Then what the devil ya call me for?” The woman’s eyes became slits.

“This.” She reached in her purse and pulled out the letter, showing it to her.

She snatched the letter out of Mariah’s hand, glanced over it, and thrust it toward Mariah. “That Debra. I told her if they don’t renew, forget ‘em.”

Mariah snatched the letter back. “My sister rented from you—”

“So why’d she sends ya?”

“She didn’t,” Mariah retorted.

The woman paused, inhaling a long drag of the cigarette, but never taking her eyes off Mariah. “So what ya want from me?” Smoke wafted out of her mouth and up into the air.

Mariah fought not to shake her head and cough. She pulled out Allegra’s picture. “Do you remember her?”

“No, but Debra would. Debra,” she called over her shoulder.

A brown-skinned woman wearing jeans, a tank top and flip-flops came outside. She appeared to be in her early twenties with pixie-cut, dark hair, sharp features. “Yes, Ma?” she asked in a mild, interested voice.

When Debra reached Mariah, her mother turned away, but not before she gave her daughter the evil eye.

Debra sighed, but otherwise ignored her mother.

Mariah waited until the older woman disappeared inside the house. She pulled out a picture and handed it to Debra. “Hi. Do you remember her?”

“Yeah. What happened to her?”

“She died a few weeks ago.”

Debra eyebrows jerked up in surprise and sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Mariah nodded. “Thank you.”

“I guess he got her. She was so pretty. Made me wonder why somebody who looked like her would rent a place like that.”

Mariah surveyed the younger woman. “What?”

“She said she was running from her crazy ex.” Debra frowned. “That’s why she paid the full lease in cash, upfront. Ma usually checks out the tenants in person, but she had just got out of the hospital. We needed the money for her medication, since her insurance wouldn’t cover it. Sinclair was the only person interested at the time, so we rented to her, or else I’d have done a credit and background check.”

“May I see the place? She might’ve left some things there.”

“Sure. Let me grab the keys. You can follow me.”

#

Debra unlocked the door, pushing it open. She stepped back, handing Mariah the key.

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Just bring back the key.” Debra got in the Dodge and drove off.

Mariah entered the house, closing the door behind her. Her eyes darted around the room in frustration. “Why this, Allegra?” she asked aloud, not really expecting an answer in return.

The whole place was dreary beige and the dull carpet was ragged in most spots. Closed, dusty blinds shrouded the place. The living room was furnished. A couch of unspecified color and a small table were the only items in it. Mariah looked down at her feet and when she saw a fat, black water bug sauntering toward her, a scream welled up in her throat, but she caught herself in time and danced out of its path.

As soon as she returned to Allegra’s, Mariah told Solé about Allegra’s secret hideaway. Solé nearly dropped the phone.

“First, this engraved bracelet from a secret lover, then the probability that she was seeing a married man, now this. The stuff I found in her room…this would break Mom and Gran D’s hearts.” Mariah sat back on Allegra’s couch, catching her pinky nail between her teeth. She shook her head in dismay and curled her legs underneath. “She had a great job, a huge bank account, great credit and lived in one of the best neighborhoods in Raleigh, but she stripped on the side. Her need for attention was worse than I thought.”

#

Meanwhile, Anthony was chomping at the bit because he hadn’t heard from Mariah. But then, he hadn’t called her, either. He wanted to give her space and time before he just showed up at her door. But it was hard.

And getting harder.

#

You’re the questioner, the investigator.

Allegra’s words kept hammering at Mariah, until an idea took root and she turned on Allegra’s laptop, only to discover that it had password protection. “Of course,” she muttered, slamming a hand down on the desk. After a few moments, Mariah settled back in the chair, her pinky nail between her teeth, her eyes narrow as she tried to think. She typed in two things that might be relevant to Allegra, but was unsuccessful.

Mariah closed her eyes in prayer and typed in “Chocolate Princes” because the computer wouldn’t let her type the last “S.” The password screen disappeared and she breathed a sigh of thanks.

Mariah performed an Internet search of gentlemen’s clubs within several miles of Allegra’s secret hideout, and found two. When she was finished, she called Kevin.

“Hey. Gran D told me you were back. I meant to call but–”

“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I need a favor. Can I have access to your garage tomorrow night? I need to use my father’s car.”

#

The blue sky of the day had slipped and entwined with the red, pink and indigo of night, triggering the parking lot lamps into automatic illumination. Mariah parked a dark green Ford Taurus in a spot that wasn’t too far from a parking lot lamp or too close to the building. She needed some form of anonymity.

When she’d asked Kevin for access to his garage so she could use her father’s car, he didn’t ask for a reason and she didn’t offer one. Mariah remembered Kevin telling her that Allegra had asked him to keep their father’s car after her birthday. Then, like now, he didn’t ask any questions. Mariah found that strange, but she couldn’t focus on that right now.

Anxiety churned through her as she watched two men enter the place. Sometimes, shady or downright dangerous characters frequented this type of establishment, and Mariah would’ve been a fool not to be a little nervous. That’s why she borrowed her father’s car. She didn’t want anyone to see her license plate.

The brick building was one level with two columns, giving it the impression of class. Large, bright gold letters outlined in black hung across the upper portion of the club. At least the owners had the foresight to avoid blinking letters.

She stopped at The Hot Spot first and encountered a burly man with a bald head and razor-sharp eyes at the front door. He wasn’t friendly or hostile, but when she showed him Allegra’s picture, he told her Allegra wasn’t one of his girls.

That left Golden fingers.

Mariah shut off the ignition, looking around. Customers weren’t lined up around the corner, but given a little time, they would be. She had to do this fast. When Mariah stepped out of the car and locked it, the night air was so thick it felt like she was breathing in soup. She arrived early enough so that the place wouldn’t be packed and the women might have time to talk. Her feet ate up the distance between her car and the front door. Head up, shoulders back.

The two men outside were the valet, dressed in black pants and gold shirts, and a security guard, another brawny man, dressed in all black. This one had a buzz cut, probably ex-military.

“Yeah?” His eyes roamed over her figure. “Lookin’ for work?”

There are looks and then there are looks. Mariah girded herself with resolve even as she fought a wave of irritation. “No. I don’t have the body for it. I’m looking for a woman.”

One corner of his mouth twisted upward. “Oh, it’s like that.”

Mariah stifled a nervous laugh.

The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Only women allowed in here are employees…and cops.”

Mariah took a deep breath and fought down a gush of disappointment. Of course. The club couldn’t risk angry wives or girlfriends tearing down the place. “Do you know her?” She pulled out a picture of Allegra.

“No. Ask one of them.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of three women coming toward them.

“Excuse me, do you know her?” She held up Allegra’s picture as she advanced, but two of the women shook their heads without stopping. Mariah approached the third person, a woman with long legs, short black hair and the breasts the size of melons. “Excuse me, do you know her?”

The woman stopped and looked at the picture. Light eyes narrowed. “What’s it worth to you?”

Mariah almost gave in to the urge to sigh. She dug in her purse for a twenty-dollar bill and handed it over. The woman took it, folding the money twice and placing it between her remarkable cleavage. “Looks like Divine. Haven’t seen her around in a while. It’s like she dropped off the planet, ya know what I mean?”

“When did you last see her?”

“What? She’s missing or something?”

“Let’s just say she’s gone underground,” Mariah hedged, flinching at her choice of words.

The woman shrugged. “She only worked every other Friday and Saturday night. I always fixed her a Bacardi and ginger ale in her downtime,” she said, revealing that she was the bartender. “She was one of the bigger attractions. I know she had a few regulars. Wouldn’t be surprised if she had a few stalkers, too.”

“What about her ‘regulars’?”

The bartender was about to answer when a lean man of average height exited the club. They watched him light a cigarette and then walk to his car. Mariah saw him watching them as he rested against the hood. He stared at them, and she figured the bartender’s gigantic breasts held his attention, not her.

The woman paused, looked around. “Only two,” she replied. “Diablo and Milburn Jennings. Milburn made her laugh.”

“Why?”

“Because he looks like his name, boring, skinny with a big, brown patch on his cheek, like a birthmark. He’s a nerd with glasses and shy, not the type of guy that women want to sleep with or pay attention to, ya know what I mean? He’s probably never gotten laid, and if he has, I bet he’s paid for it. Divine called Milburn pathetic.”

#

Milburn Jennings strove for that out-of-reach climax, visions of her behind his eyelids, burning images in his brain. He shivered, hungry from the image of her mouth on his, her body surrounding him.

He growled before he convulsed and collapsed on top of his companion. Sweat poured down his temples and thin chest, which heaved with exertion. When he caught his breath, he rolled onto his back.

“That was great, baby,” his companion whispered between breaths, checking the crown of her head for knots, wincing when she found a tender spot. She should’ve brought a helmet. “You were a beast.” He called her by a different name, not the fake one she used to identify herself. Her shoulders lifted in a dismissive shrug. Whatever. He could call her One-Eyed Sally as long as he paid well for the privilege. The woman got up and got dressed. Her silicon-implanted breasts were shiny with perspiration.

The man’s gaze traveled down, then up the call girl’s body. He scratched his chest. “Will I see you again?”

“You know who to call.” Since he’d already paid her a grand, there was nothing to wait for. She nodded and walked out.

#

Divine called Milburn pathetic.

Mariah let the bartender’s words about Allegra’s attitude toward Milburn sink in. Allegra didn’t have much sympathy for people who weren’t like her. “What about Diablo?”

“Divine acted like it was nothing, but Diablo…that’s one dude I wouldn’t mess with.”

Mariah’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“He’s good-looking in a scary kind of way, ya know what I mean? He’s a big dude with a droopy eyelid, looks like he’s a Spanish mix. He’s been locked up. He caused some trouble one night over Divine.”

“How do you know Diablo was in prison? What happened with Divine?”

“I think Diablo got obsessed with Divine –” she started, but her face clouded with uneasiness and she stopped speaking. Just as the bartender mentioned Diablo and Divine in the same sentence, the man who stared at them while he smoked his cigarette passed by them. Strangely enough, he didn’t spare the women a glance. When he entered the club, the bartender leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Lots of guys I grew up with went to the slammer. They come out with a different walk, a different look in their eyes. Anyway, Diablo got too possessive of Divine one night and couldn’t come back for a few weeks.” The woman’s eyes darted around the parking lot again. Then she looked down at her watch. “Gotta go. My shift starts in a half.”

#

“Yo.”

Diablo, his elbows resting on the table, looked over his shoulder at the man lowering himself into the chair next to him. “Yo,” he answered with a nod.

The man held up a ten-dollar bill and gestured for a beer. The closest female, short redhead with medium-sized boobs, took his money and sashayed away. When she was out of his line of sight, the man said, “When I stepped outside for a smoke, I heard these two chicks talking about you.”

The air around Diablo crackled, even though he didn’t move. “For real?”

“Yeah.” Diablo’s cousin studied him. He knew not to tap Diablo on the shoulder when he was behind him, even in a public place like this, because Diablo had been locked up. Before prison, Diablo had never been the type to want affection, even when they were kids. He considered himself Diablo’s closest and only long-term relationship. Diablo did, too, because he’d always been a bit of a loner, thanks to his aunt, Diablo’s mother. She always had to have a man, and some of them treated Diablo worse than an animal.

No wonder he hated women.

#

As far as Diablo was concerned, females were only good for sex, money and violence. So when his cousin told him that some chicks were talking about him, rage burned a hole in his chest. His mother talked bad about him a lot, too. “What do they look like?”

“It’s the bartender – the one with black hair and a big rack – and some other female with short hair and a big butt. I heard your name and Divine’s, too. I think you’d better watch your back.” The redhead woman brought his beer and he thanked her with a wink and an irresistibly devastating grin.

She smiled back and turned away.

His smile faded a little when he looked at Diablo. He knew his cousin had a thing for Divine. He was here when Diablo got thrown out of the club. “Haven’t seen Divine in a while. I wonder what’s up with that?”

Diablo shrugged and took a swig of the beer that was on the table, but his eyes blazed hazel fire. He rose to his feet, an impressive height of six-three, two-hundred twenty pounds.

As his cousin watched Diablo walk away, an ominous feeling settled in his gut. He downed half his beer in three gulps and slammed the bottle on the table. He wasn’t staying here long. Whatever Diablo had planned; he didn’t want to know.

#

With a tremor in her gut, Mariah watched the bartender disappear inside. She turned to go back to her car, only to collide with a hard, male chest. An apology brushed her lips when her eyes climbed to the man’s face.

Kevin’s face.