Man of Action

by Janie Crouch

  The rest of the night went by more easily. She blocked everything from her mind besides trying to find the coldness of the killer. She thought of it in terms of color. Almost everything in the club was red and she was looking for blue.

  Once she focused, the things that used to bother her so much when she worked at Jaguar’s faded away. The hands that grasped at her leg or waist she ignored. She wasn’t here to make tips; she was here to observe. She didn’t need to flirt or smile in a suggestive manner. She froze them out and concentrated. These men were nothing to her. She could leave at any time.

  She never found what she searched for. She wasn’t able to pinpoint any source of contempt or cold calculation. Everything in here just seemed to be what someone would expect from a strip club: drunkenness, rowdiness and a lot of lust.

  A little before 2:00 a.m. Big Mike yelled out for last call. Andrea made her way to the back room, taking her tips and splitting them among the other waitresses, slipping the money into their lockers. Her job was done for the night.

  She was exhausted.

  The last six hours had taken everything out of her. Getting past her fears, getting past the men, getting past it all and focusing despite her feelings. All for nothing.

  She wanted Brandon. Wanted his arms around her. Wanted to go to their little house and leave this all behind her. At least until tomorrow night.

  The plan was to exit separately so no one would think they were leaving together. Not that she thought anyone was watching her. But it never hurt to be sure.

  Andrea stepped out the back employee door to discover it was storming. There were no windows inside Club Paradise, of course, and either the storm had just come up or Andrea had been so focused on finding who might be the killer that she hadn’t even noticed if people had started coming in with wet hair. Either was possible.

  She stood alone under the small awning covering the door, but it didn’t offer much protection from the rain. Brandon should be here soon to get her. He would drive the car, even off the club parking lot if necessary, to make sure no one was watching him, then swing around to pick her up. She wasn’t sure how long it would take.

  She stood, huddled under the awning, trying to ward off the chill. The doorway was well lit, but the parking-lot lighting here in the back wasn’t great, and beyond the lot seemed to be a vast darkness. She shivered.

  That feeling was back. The feeling of someone watching her with anticipation and violence, but she was finally coming to realize that feeling was based on her physical exhaustion and emotional turmoil. Like her past, she wouldn’t let it control her.

  But she couldn’t shake it.

  She happened to be looking in the right direction—across the parking lot into the group of trees and cacti that surrounded the outer edge of Club Paradise—when the lightning struck.

  She could see the outline of a man in the bright flash. Big, powerful. He wore a black rain jacket with a hood and the water flowed down it. Although the hood hid his features, she knew he was staring right at her.

  This man intended to harm her. She had no doubt about it.

  She immediately turned back to the door but found it locked. Damn it. Big Mike had told her they locked it from the inside after 9:00 p.m. to keep anyone from sneaking in that way. She rammed her fist against the door heavily, hoping the music was off and someone might hear her.

  She turned back to where the man was. He was the killer. He had to be. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

  Was he almost on her? She strained her eyes but couldn’t see anything. Dressed in black as he was, it would be difficult to see him in the lot. Lightning flashed again.

  He was closer. Oh God, he was closer. He must be walking, taking his time. Which somehow panicked her even more. He was playing a game with her. Was that a knife in his hand?

  She pounded again. Nothing. She was afraid to keep her back to him. What if he started to run and pounced?

  Should she leave, try to make her way around to the front door? That would require running through some darkened parts of the parking lot around the edge of the building, but it seemed better than sitting here alone with her one jujitsu move and no one opening the door.

  She turned, almost certain she would find the big man right behind her, but didn’t. Her breath sawing in and out of her chest, Andrea jumped down the side of the small door ledge, keeping her back to the wall so the killer couldn’t sneak up on her. She was about to run when she saw Brandon’s car pulling around the corner.

  It stopped, a beacon of safety standing between her and whoever was out there in the darkness. When Brandon saw she was standing in the rain he got out.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “The k-killer.” She could barely get the words out and pointed toward the lot where she’d seen the man. “I think he’s out there. I saw him when lightning flashed.”

  Brandon immediately pulled out his weapon. “What? Are you sure?”

  Andrea nodded, still trying to get in enough breath to calm her racing heart. “I know he was there.”

  “I’m going to check it out. You stay by the car.”

  “No!” There was no way she was letting him go alone, or staying here alone, for that matter. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Andrea, you’re not an agent—you don’t need to do this.”

  “Yeah, well, I have a pair of eyes. I’m not letting you go out there with your back exposed.”

  Brandon nodded. “Fine. Let’s drive the car that way so we at least have the headlights helping us.”

  They got in the car and he reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a gun. “This is a Glock 9 mm. Are you familiar with weapons at all?”

  “Some, but only at the range.”

  “That’s better than most.” He handed it to her. “Just don’t shoot me on accident.”

  They drove over near where Andrea had seen the man during the first flash of lightning. Brandon spun the car slowly in a semicircle to provide light on a wider area, but they didn’t see anything.

  “He seems to be gone now. Where did you see him?”

  Andrea pointed. “At first it was over near those trees. Then I was trying to get back inside and when I turned around again he was in the middle of the parking lot.”

  “That rain is coming down pretty hard out there, but let’s see if we can find anything.”

  She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay inside the safety of the car. She wanted him to stay inside the safety of the car. She reached for his hand and was surprised when he pulled away as if she’d burned him.

  She turned to him, but he didn’t look at her.

  “You can stay here if you want—that’s okay.”

  She shook her head, not understanding exactly what was going on, the emotions that were radiating from him. Maybe, like inside the club, he was just focused. “No, I’ll come, too.”

  They didn’t find anything particularly useful. The rain was washing away everything too fast. Brandon did find two footprints right around where the man would’ve been watching her the first time she saw him. Brandon took a picture with his phone.

  “There was definitely someone standing right here since the rain started. A perfect place to be watching the door when the women exited after work.”

  Andrea felt chilled to her very bones, as if she would never get warm again. The rain had both of them sopping wet, but the cold she felt came from the inside.

  “He was coming for me, Brandon. I’m sure of it. I could feel him getting closer. I was about to make a run for the front door when you drove up.” She managed to get the words out without her teeth chattering.

  Brandon was only two feet away from her but he might as well have been a million miles. He finally turned and looked at her. She felt a slight softening from h
im before his walls rammed back up in place.

  “Let’s get you home.”

  * * *

  ANDREA TOOK ONE look at herself in the bathroom mirror once they got home and understood some of the reason why Brandon was keeping such a distance. She looked like a drowned rat with too much makeup on.

  The dark colors she’d used on her eyes to give herself more of a smoldering appearance at the club were now running down her cheeks. The carefully tousled hair now lay flat against her head in knots.

  If she was Brandon she’d stay far away from her, also.

  He was on the phone with Omega, or maybe the Phoenix police; Andrea wasn’t sure which and really didn’t care.

  She definitely couldn’t deny any longer that something had changed in Brandon since earlier this afternoon, when they’d made love for hours, and now, when he couldn’t even seem to look at her.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. He’d seen her in her “natural” habitat. Had figured out what her life had really been like before. And it hadn’t been pretty.

  Andrea almost staggered under all the weight she could feel pressing down on her.

  This was what she’d known from the beginning. Why she’d always tried to hide her past from everyone at Omega. Because ultimately it was ugly and seedy and lewd.

  Brandon had thought he was okay with her past until he’d come face-to-face with it tonight. Obviously, now he wasn’t. He hadn’t touched her once of his own accord since she left Club Paradise. She couldn’t hide from that fact any longer.

  He now found her distasteful.

  She felt something deep inside her shatter at the thought. Pieces she knew she would never be able to put completely back together.

  She couldn’t bear to look at herself in the mirror any more. She stumbled over to the shower and turned it on. Once inside she found she didn’t even have the strength to stand up. She just sat down and let the water pour all over her. She knew it would wash away the cold, the ruined makeup and the mud.

  But it would never wash away her past.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning Brandon was at a loss for what to do or say. It was new for him and not pleasant.

  None of what he was feeling was pleasant.

  Andrea sat quietly at the table, eating cereal. Was totally engrossed in her cereal as if she’d never eaten it before and it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. Which he was sure had nothing to do with the cereal and everything to do with not having to talk to him.

  Cold professionalism from them both.

  By the time he had finished reporting the man Andrea had seen to the local police, she had been out of the shower and had enclosed herself in the smaller bedroom.

  Not the one they’d slept in together the night before.

  He told himself that was better, that they needed the space apart. That it would’ve been ugly if they’d had a confrontation right then. But part of him wanted to get it out in the open, fight it out.

  Part of him wanted answers to how she could seem to enjoy dressing so scantily and flirting with dozens of unknown men all night.

  The reasonable part of his brain nagged at him: Hadn’t that been the plan? For her to blend in, do the job, get close enough to be able to read the emotions and nonverbal behavior of these men and see if any were acting out of place?

  Just why the hell had she needed to seem to enjoy it so much?

  Intellectually Brandon could see the unfairness of the direction of his thoughts. But the warrior couldn’t. Couldn’t seem to get past the short skirt and heels and hanging all over other men.

  So he’d left her alone last night. Gotten hardly any sleep himself. And now they ate in silence.

  She was dressed in her professional suit once more: pants, a cream-colored blouse and a blazer. Not a single hair was out of place, her makeup tame and tasteful.

  But Brandon knew what lay beneath it.

  Hell, just about any guy who’d been at Club Paradise last night had a pretty good idea of what lay beneath it.

  He was struck again by the unfairness of his thoughts, but damned if he could stop them. He got up for another cup of coffee. He was going to need it to get through this day.

  * * *

  THE ICY PROFESSIONALISM and silence from both of them continued through the morning as they looked over the parking lot and surrounding area of Club Paradise. The local police had met them there to help search the wooded area, but besides a couple of footprints, nothing had come of it.

  But standing where the man would’ve stood showed Brandon that he’d had an excellent view of the back door of the club. If it hadn’t been for the lightning, Andrea might never have seen him at all. If he had kept to the shadows, he could’ve been on her before she’d even been aware of his presence.

  It reminded Brandon once again that Andrea wasn’t a trained agent and wouldn’t be able to fight off an attacker. What he’d taught her hadn’t nearly been enough. He needed to show her more, but that seemed highly unlikely given that they weren’t even talking to each other at the moment.

  They were now headed back to Jaguar’s. Keira had called them; she’d found a note she was sure was in Jillian Spires’s handwriting. It had some initials on it and part of a phone number.

  Keira was waiting for them inside the empty club and gave Andrea a hug.

  “How’d it go last night?”

  Andrea rolled her eyes. “It was a Saturday night at a club. Some things haven’t changed.”

  “Get any useful info?”

  “No,” Brandon said.

  Keira stepped closer to Andrea, picking up on the tension between the two of them, touching her arm. “How are you doing? Was going back to it as hard as you thought?”

  Andrea shuddered just the slightest bit. “Worse in some ways. But I had a job to do and that gave me something to focus on.”

  “You never should’ve gone back there.” Keira angled her body so she was standing between Andrea and Brandon.

  Brandon realized the shorter woman was trying to protect Andrea.

  From him.

  The thought was preposterous. Why would Andrea need protection from him?

  Andrea’s smile was soft and gentle as she looked at her friend. “I won’t lie. It brought back a lot of the old memories and old fears. But at least I didn’t have to call you to come bail me out this time.”

  Keira hugged Andrea tightly to her, almost motherly. “Well, you know I would have.”

  Brandon didn’t know what the two women were talking about, but he could feel a weight beginning to sit in his chest. Looking at Andrea now with Keira, he realized the icy professionalism she’d had with him since they’d awakened this morning wasn’t actually her true feeling. There was pain in her eyes, in her voice, in her posture that he’d missed before.

  Missed because it hadn’t been there or missed because he’d been too busy with his righteous anger to see it?

  All he knew was right now Andrea definitely wasn’t the same confidently flirtatious woman who used her body to get what she wanted that he’d seen with the men last night. Nor was she the consummate professional who’d greeted him coldly this morning, then went about her business.

  Right now she just looked young. Haunted. Clutching a friendly hand because she desperately needed someone to hold on to.

  The weight in his chest got a little heavier.

  “But anyway, I got through it,” Andrea told Keira. Neither of them were looking at him. “We didn’t really gather any useful intel, but hopefully now I should be more ready for tonight and especially tomorrow when DJ Shocker is there. That’s what’s important.”

  “You don’t have to do it, you know,” Keira whispered. “I’ll come do it.”

 
Andrea hugged the woman. “Thanks for the offer. But I can’t teach you how to read people the way I can. It’s just something that clicks in my brain.”

  Keira shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “So what did you find of Jillian Spires’s?” Brandon asked.

  Keira turned so her back wasn’t to him and he could be included in the conversation. But he noticed her eyes were neither warm nor friendly when she looked at him, the way they were when she looked at Andrea.

  “A note from last week. Evidently someone had given it to her and she had stuffed it in the drawer by the server’s station.”

  “Why would she do that?” Brandon asked.

  Keira rolled her eyes. “Our outfits—even when waiting tables—don’t tend to have a lot of pockets or places to stuff paper.”

  “What did it say?” Andrea asked.

  Keira walked a few steps to the bar where she’d placed a napkin that had been folded. “Here.”

  She handed it to Andrea, but Andrea looked at it briefly and handed it to Brandon, looking embarrassed. “It will take me too long to decipher that.”

  Because of the handwriting and water stains, the note would be hard for anyone to read, dyslexic or not, but Brandon couldn’t find a way to reassure Andrea of that.

  Trust me, I can give you a lot more thrills than DJ Shocker ever could. Text me when you get off work tonight. J

  It had a phone number, but the last four numbers were unreadable because of liquid that had hit the napkin.

  “That was given to Jillian the night DJ Shocker was here,” Andrea said.

  “Or maybe the night after,” Brandon agreed. “Either way, this person would fit our MO. We know he was here for the DJ Shocker show and we know he wanted her attention.”

  “Will the phone number help?” Andrea asked. “The area code is local for Phoenix.”

  Brandon nodded. “It gives us something. We’ll also get the police department to run this napkin for any forensic evidence, although at this point it’s highly doubtful.”

  “Do you remember her with anyone, Keira?” Andrea asked softly.