by Leonie Gant
Travis looked slightly embarrassed. “This is not a good place for you to be Trudie,” he said quietly. “If Griffin knew where you were he would have a fit, you know that. I’m guessing it’s probably the reason why you haven’t told him about it.”
It was definitely the reason I hadn’t told him. Having Travis point it out to me though had me feeling even guiltier than I already did.
“Fine, if I can’t convince you to leave, you may as well come with me.”
I had become very familiar with the backstage area of Hammys. Between calming down women who wanted to kill Alistair for his interviewing style, and stopping the cameraman from doing another impromptu shoot in the dressing room, I had pretty much found all the quiet and private areas in the place. My preferred area was one that unfortunately the cameraman, Hugh, had shown me. It was a little alcove, not far from the dressing room. It was kind of hard to find and I really did not want to know how Hugh had found it, or what exactly he had been doing in it, but for now it fulfilled my requirements.
“Where exactly are you taking me?” asked Travis as the area got quieter and more secluded. “I’m not complaining but I really think that I should point out that I am not that kind of guy.”
I choked on the laugh that came out. “Who are you trying to kid? You are exactly like that kind of guy. I would bet a lot of money that you have led many a wayward young lady into a secluded part of a building.”
Travis smiled and I turned back to make my way through the dimly lighted area. Finding a light switch, I flicked it, glanced back at the alcove and froze.
“What?” said Travis, instantly on alert.
I pointed down. There lying on the floor of the alcove was Hammy Pollard with a whip that I remembered from Amber’s dominatrix act wrapped around his neck.
Travis instantly squatted down beside the body and checked Hammy’s pulse. He looked up at me and shook his head. I wasn’t surprised. I really didn’t think that the shade of blue on Hammy’s face was a natural hue. Travis fished his phone out of his pocket.
“I’m going to have to call this one in,” he said regretfully, which confused me.
Of course we had to call it in. Dead man on the floor, you instantly called the police and they called in Homicide. All of a sudden I could see why Travis was looking at me with some pity. Even if Griffin was not working this case, I knew how the police worked. He would be told that his girlfriend, once again, was at a murder scene, at a strip club where I had been working for two weeks without telling him. I was so screwed.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
About The Author
